Post by Deleted on Dec 7, 2020 21:58:37 GMT -5
Derek Wellings, The Airborne Ranger, finds himself once more with Liberty Roberts and Wendy Sato. The daughter of his associate and friend Leon Roberts and his own child inside an indoor running track. They're going about an Army Physical Fitness Test, something Derek knows very well. It's been over 15 years since he was last tested using this standard, but it's a standard he's always prided himself on being a former Ranger. Therefore, in his mind, it's the perfect standard to hold his trainees to.
With the results of losing his first match via disqualification in the back of his mind, Derek uses his anger to help push him harder and faster. A friend of his counts their push-ups as each takes a turn doing two minutes of push-ups. Each pushes out as many as they possibly can in two minutes, Derek's friend keeping count and writing the results down. Once finished with push-ups, they each take turns doing two minutes of sit-ups. Once more the results are counted and written down. Lastly, they head over to a field & track and start their two-mile runs. Although the young ladies lap him several times, Derek uses their firm buttocks to invigorate him to keep up. He is a lecherous old man deep down inside. The girls finish first, closely enough to each other while Derek takes another four or so minutes to wrap up himself.
Once finished, Derek's friend gives him the results and he places it on a nearby bleacher. Wendy and Liberty remove their sweat-soaked shirts and drop water over their heads to help cool down quicker. The two look at each other, wet, and smile before flicking water and sweat at the other. A heavy door shuts and Derek jogs over and looks at the results.
*** Derek Wellings ***
Oh, this is bullshit, it can't be right.
*** Liberty Roberts ***
Old dude, we're younger than you. We're going to be better at this than you.
*** Derek Wellings ***
… I'm aware of that, Liberty. I'm talking about my results, I couldn't have slowed down this much.
*** Wendy Sato ***
Derek-sama, read it.
*** Derek Wellings ***
Wendy, you had 39 push-ups which are 96 points. Liberty, you had 44 which is 102 points. I had 38 sit-ups at 80 points. Both of you two had 82 sit-ups which are 104 points, I only got in 53 push-ups for 86 points. Wendy ran her two miles in 15:30 for 101 points while Liberty sadly got 16 minutes flat for 95 points and I ran 20:42 minutes for 87 points. Going by the score, you two had 301 and I had a disappointing 253.
*** Liberty Roberts ***
Looks like age is catching up with you, Old Man.
Derek gives her a malicious look and Liberty backs down quickly from the smiling face she once had. He walks away a moment and swears under his breath at his friend. Cupping a hand by her friend's ear, Wendy whispers lowly to Liberty.
*** Wendy Sato ***
You're NOT your dad. He might choke you out in a fit of rage.
*** Liberty Roberts ***
Has he done that to you?!
*** Wendy Sato ***
No, but do you want to be the first to find out if he will?
The Airborne Ranger returns to the girls after calming down. Taking a deep breath, Derek exhales slowly and looks at Wendy. Blinking back in response, the two young ladies stare at him.
*** Derek Wellings ***
I need to go on a walk or jog, you can take my stuff, and get home.
Before Wendy can say anything, Derek runs off and puts in the earbuds of his iPhone 11. Despite the cold and danger of living in Detroit, The Airborne Ranger was almost untouchable. Not that he hung around more dangerous areas such as Forest Park or Poletown East. Areas like that would be interesting to run through, he has too much to look forward to now. Alpha Pro Wrestling, his new workplace has given him plenty of challengers.
Even his long time associate and friend, Leon Roberts, is making his debut to become the number one contender to the APW North American Championship. The very same championship is competing for at the APW Metal Super Show. While Derek didn't leave Vendetta the APW North American Champion, there's little doubt in his mind or any others that he was definitely the winner. The events went over repeated in his head, it brought a smile to the Airborne Ranger's face.
The sweats Derek had on kept him warm despite his heavy sweating. Homeless people around him looking at him, several recognizing him as a local hero. While he should get home, a watering hole he previously visited as a younger man was nearby. They showed wrestling pay-per-views as well as shows and a buddy of his from his Army days did own it and gives him a tab. Instead of returning towards Huntington Woods where he lived with Wendy, he diverges and heads to his friends.
After 30 minutes of running, Derek finds his way to The Handlebar & Grille, a popular bar, and grille in a decent area of Detroit. He slows down and taking a few deep breaths, removing his sweats, goes inside. No sooner does he enter, the bartender calls out to him as "Guitars Cadillacs" by David Yoakam play on a nearby digital jute box. Several bikers look at him as one gets up and lets Derek take his seat.
*** Johnny ***
Hey, hey, everyone! Look what the cat dragged in. Derek "The Airborne" Ranger, haven't seen you in at least three years.
*** Derek Wellings ***
Hey Johnny, get me a Guinness, a shot of Jack, water, and a dozen Cajun wings.
*** Johnny ***
You got it, Derek. I saw you on APW Vendetta the other night. That was one Hell of a match you had.
*** Derek Wellings ***
It ended half the way I expected it to.
*** Johnny ***
What does that mean?
Johnny serves the shot of Jack Daniels with water.
*** Derek Wellings ***
Think about it, I lost but I wasn't pinned or submitted or counted out. I disqualified myself. I didn't remove the padding, America Jackson wanted to take an easy way out and bash me into the exposed turnbuckle. I out-thought him, like I promised I would, and smashed High Speed's face into the turnbuckle. Sucks I didn't leave with the championship, yeah. But I did exactly as I said I would, beat the dog piss out of him.
America Jackson is shaken now. I didn't go down like he expected me to. Yes, I'm old and I still ran to him. I kept up with him and he got downright scared. I'm too damn old to be too damn old.
*** Johnny ***
That doesn't make sense.
He serves the Guinness and awaits the wings by a window.
*** Derek Wellings ***
Shut up! Management didn't like the fact our match ended in a disqualification. I got a second chance at becoming APW North American Champion at the Monday Night Metal Super Show. It's sad to see The Bane or Jason Ryan or whatever his name is making a return in our match. I'm always in favor of someone picking who loses their asses off, pick themselves up by the bootstraps, and carrying on even if they've remade themselves. But worst possible timing getting involved in the war between myself and America Jackson.
For now, I'll focus on Jason Ryan. He's a former APW World Heavyweight Champion, the best of the best. Now look at him, the guy's stock in the company crashed faster than Enron. I have more faith in not getting HIV from a blood transfusion from Magic Johnson than I do him winning this match. I don't know what happened to him. He went from being a serious world champion and contender, he was thin and handsome then he put on a hundred pounds and believe he's a nightmare.
I went back on alphaprowrestling.com and checked out a few of his matches. I can say this without any rancor, you suck Jason. Wrestling isn't for you brother, you need to get your head straight first and decide what you want from it. The only thing that scares me about you is your fridge likely lacks Guinness. You're not going to scare me, you're not going to out wrestling me, and you're not going to leave the Super Show as APW North American Champion, Optimus Prime Rib. Zaigon Carter sends his sympathies for you.
As for my real opponent, the current love of my life so to speak, America Jackson. I pointed out earlier a few of his personal flaws. But let's dive into them, Johnny. In our match, Jackson tried to overpower me multiple times, and each time he failed. I'm not a one pump chump, America Jackson. I'm war forged and Army approved, sure I can't run an eight-minute mile anymore and you likely can run two miles in 13 minutes flat. You can probably pull out 80 push-ups and sit-ups in two minutes. You know as a man in his early 50s, I can't do that. What I can do, I've already done and I'll do it again.
I've shaken you and your in-ring tactics. You're as mentally disturbed as Anakin Skywalker or Ben Solo, assuming you're a Star Wars geek. If not, I'll translate: Your strategic attacks on my knees are smart, I'm a huge guy. I'm tall and heavier and therefore my knees are my weakness, especially being in the business we're in. It didn't work, all your submissions I either escaped from or overpowered you. Left out of options, you tried to disqualify yourself, and once more, being who I am, I beat you to it. Everything you did had weaknesses and faults, each time I saw them and exploited them.
It's a triple threat with you, me, and The Bane. While one of us is a non-factor, he is STILL a threat. Two former APW World Heavyweight Champions and myself. An old war hound who doesn't know how or when to give up. I love those odds. America, you don't love those odds. The one thing I'll give you is that you still hold the Champion's advantage. You can get counted out or disqualified. I pushed you in that corner BY MYSELF. What are you going to do when you have myself and Bane breathing down your neck? I would like to say I believe you'd nut up and turn back the challenge. But seeing what happened last time, I'm not going to count on you having a spine.
By the numbers, I've proven I'm more a commodity to APW as a fighter than you certainly have. Couldn't even figure a way to get a match back from Andrew Barnes and to this day, you still cry about it. Simply put, you're a bitch. By every Urban Dictionary definition, you're a bitch. You're inconsiderate toward the fans, you're Riley's sidekick, you're a coward, and you've got an oh so punchable face. Stop with the insincerity. You have no respect for me. You hate me for the fact I'm older and I tea bagged the fuck out of you with my basketball size nuts at Vendetta.
You escaped last time, cheaply, and you've earned nothing from me while you learned one thing: One man's hate leads to another man's fate.
Derek takes a breath to enjoy his Guinness and Cajun wings.
~FIN
With the results of losing his first match via disqualification in the back of his mind, Derek uses his anger to help push him harder and faster. A friend of his counts their push-ups as each takes a turn doing two minutes of push-ups. Each pushes out as many as they possibly can in two minutes, Derek's friend keeping count and writing the results down. Once finished with push-ups, they each take turns doing two minutes of sit-ups. Once more the results are counted and written down. Lastly, they head over to a field & track and start their two-mile runs. Although the young ladies lap him several times, Derek uses their firm buttocks to invigorate him to keep up. He is a lecherous old man deep down inside. The girls finish first, closely enough to each other while Derek takes another four or so minutes to wrap up himself.
Once finished, Derek's friend gives him the results and he places it on a nearby bleacher. Wendy and Liberty remove their sweat-soaked shirts and drop water over their heads to help cool down quicker. The two look at each other, wet, and smile before flicking water and sweat at the other. A heavy door shuts and Derek jogs over and looks at the results.
*** Derek Wellings ***
Oh, this is bullshit, it can't be right.
*** Liberty Roberts ***
Old dude, we're younger than you. We're going to be better at this than you.
*** Derek Wellings ***
… I'm aware of that, Liberty. I'm talking about my results, I couldn't have slowed down this much.
*** Wendy Sato ***
Derek-sama, read it.
*** Derek Wellings ***
Wendy, you had 39 push-ups which are 96 points. Liberty, you had 44 which is 102 points. I had 38 sit-ups at 80 points. Both of you two had 82 sit-ups which are 104 points, I only got in 53 push-ups for 86 points. Wendy ran her two miles in 15:30 for 101 points while Liberty sadly got 16 minutes flat for 95 points and I ran 20:42 minutes for 87 points. Going by the score, you two had 301 and I had a disappointing 253.
*** Liberty Roberts ***
Looks like age is catching up with you, Old Man.
Derek gives her a malicious look and Liberty backs down quickly from the smiling face she once had. He walks away a moment and swears under his breath at his friend. Cupping a hand by her friend's ear, Wendy whispers lowly to Liberty.
*** Wendy Sato ***
You're NOT your dad. He might choke you out in a fit of rage.
*** Liberty Roberts ***
Has he done that to you?!
*** Wendy Sato ***
No, but do you want to be the first to find out if he will?
The Airborne Ranger returns to the girls after calming down. Taking a deep breath, Derek exhales slowly and looks at Wendy. Blinking back in response, the two young ladies stare at him.
*** Derek Wellings ***
I need to go on a walk or jog, you can take my stuff, and get home.
Before Wendy can say anything, Derek runs off and puts in the earbuds of his iPhone 11. Despite the cold and danger of living in Detroit, The Airborne Ranger was almost untouchable. Not that he hung around more dangerous areas such as Forest Park or Poletown East. Areas like that would be interesting to run through, he has too much to look forward to now. Alpha Pro Wrestling, his new workplace has given him plenty of challengers.
Even his long time associate and friend, Leon Roberts, is making his debut to become the number one contender to the APW North American Championship. The very same championship is competing for at the APW Metal Super Show. While Derek didn't leave Vendetta the APW North American Champion, there's little doubt in his mind or any others that he was definitely the winner. The events went over repeated in his head, it brought a smile to the Airborne Ranger's face.
The sweats Derek had on kept him warm despite his heavy sweating. Homeless people around him looking at him, several recognizing him as a local hero. While he should get home, a watering hole he previously visited as a younger man was nearby. They showed wrestling pay-per-views as well as shows and a buddy of his from his Army days did own it and gives him a tab. Instead of returning towards Huntington Woods where he lived with Wendy, he diverges and heads to his friends.
After 30 minutes of running, Derek finds his way to The Handlebar & Grille, a popular bar, and grille in a decent area of Detroit. He slows down and taking a few deep breaths, removing his sweats, goes inside. No sooner does he enter, the bartender calls out to him as "Guitars Cadillacs" by David Yoakam play on a nearby digital jute box. Several bikers look at him as one gets up and lets Derek take his seat.
*** Johnny ***
Hey, hey, everyone! Look what the cat dragged in. Derek "The Airborne" Ranger, haven't seen you in at least three years.
*** Derek Wellings ***
Hey Johnny, get me a Guinness, a shot of Jack, water, and a dozen Cajun wings.
*** Johnny ***
You got it, Derek. I saw you on APW Vendetta the other night. That was one Hell of a match you had.
*** Derek Wellings ***
It ended half the way I expected it to.
*** Johnny ***
What does that mean?
Johnny serves the shot of Jack Daniels with water.
*** Derek Wellings ***
Think about it, I lost but I wasn't pinned or submitted or counted out. I disqualified myself. I didn't remove the padding, America Jackson wanted to take an easy way out and bash me into the exposed turnbuckle. I out-thought him, like I promised I would, and smashed High Speed's face into the turnbuckle. Sucks I didn't leave with the championship, yeah. But I did exactly as I said I would, beat the dog piss out of him.
America Jackson is shaken now. I didn't go down like he expected me to. Yes, I'm old and I still ran to him. I kept up with him and he got downright scared. I'm too damn old to be too damn old.
*** Johnny ***
That doesn't make sense.
He serves the Guinness and awaits the wings by a window.
*** Derek Wellings ***
Shut up! Management didn't like the fact our match ended in a disqualification. I got a second chance at becoming APW North American Champion at the Monday Night Metal Super Show. It's sad to see The Bane or Jason Ryan or whatever his name is making a return in our match. I'm always in favor of someone picking who loses their asses off, pick themselves up by the bootstraps, and carrying on even if they've remade themselves. But worst possible timing getting involved in the war between myself and America Jackson.
For now, I'll focus on Jason Ryan. He's a former APW World Heavyweight Champion, the best of the best. Now look at him, the guy's stock in the company crashed faster than Enron. I have more faith in not getting HIV from a blood transfusion from Magic Johnson than I do him winning this match. I don't know what happened to him. He went from being a serious world champion and contender, he was thin and handsome then he put on a hundred pounds and believe he's a nightmare.
I went back on alphaprowrestling.com and checked out a few of his matches. I can say this without any rancor, you suck Jason. Wrestling isn't for you brother, you need to get your head straight first and decide what you want from it. The only thing that scares me about you is your fridge likely lacks Guinness. You're not going to scare me, you're not going to out wrestling me, and you're not going to leave the Super Show as APW North American Champion, Optimus Prime Rib. Zaigon Carter sends his sympathies for you.
As for my real opponent, the current love of my life so to speak, America Jackson. I pointed out earlier a few of his personal flaws. But let's dive into them, Johnny. In our match, Jackson tried to overpower me multiple times, and each time he failed. I'm not a one pump chump, America Jackson. I'm war forged and Army approved, sure I can't run an eight-minute mile anymore and you likely can run two miles in 13 minutes flat. You can probably pull out 80 push-ups and sit-ups in two minutes. You know as a man in his early 50s, I can't do that. What I can do, I've already done and I'll do it again.
I've shaken you and your in-ring tactics. You're as mentally disturbed as Anakin Skywalker or Ben Solo, assuming you're a Star Wars geek. If not, I'll translate: Your strategic attacks on my knees are smart, I'm a huge guy. I'm tall and heavier and therefore my knees are my weakness, especially being in the business we're in. It didn't work, all your submissions I either escaped from or overpowered you. Left out of options, you tried to disqualify yourself, and once more, being who I am, I beat you to it. Everything you did had weaknesses and faults, each time I saw them and exploited them.
It's a triple threat with you, me, and The Bane. While one of us is a non-factor, he is STILL a threat. Two former APW World Heavyweight Champions and myself. An old war hound who doesn't know how or when to give up. I love those odds. America, you don't love those odds. The one thing I'll give you is that you still hold the Champion's advantage. You can get counted out or disqualified. I pushed you in that corner BY MYSELF. What are you going to do when you have myself and Bane breathing down your neck? I would like to say I believe you'd nut up and turn back the challenge. But seeing what happened last time, I'm not going to count on you having a spine.
By the numbers, I've proven I'm more a commodity to APW as a fighter than you certainly have. Couldn't even figure a way to get a match back from Andrew Barnes and to this day, you still cry about it. Simply put, you're a bitch. By every Urban Dictionary definition, you're a bitch. You're inconsiderate toward the fans, you're Riley's sidekick, you're a coward, and you've got an oh so punchable face. Stop with the insincerity. You have no respect for me. You hate me for the fact I'm older and I tea bagged the fuck out of you with my basketball size nuts at Vendetta.
You escaped last time, cheaply, and you've earned nothing from me while you learned one thing: One man's hate leads to another man's fate.
Derek takes a breath to enjoy his Guinness and Cajun wings.
~FIN
