Bryan Payne

Trojan Horse

(Moments after Wildcard goes off air)

“Give us room!” Bellowed John as the group elbowed their way though the swarm of techs, fans, and production assistants in the back. AC and John where both half supporting Bryan who stumbled along and kept trying to fall to his knees, one arm clutched across his torso where a two hundred thirty pound man had just fallen on top of him from over twenty feet in the air. Georgie followed the three behind, the Global Title held in one of her hands as she frowned a bit as the two other men sat Bryan down on an exam table in the locker room.

“Bryan buddy, can you hear me?” AC spoke this time, a hand on either side of Bryan’s head as he tilted it up. Bryan’s eyes were looking anywhere but directly at AC, and his breathing was shallow leading to a clammy pale color that had nothing at all to do with having just fought a brutal cage match. “Bryan!” AC yelled at him trying to get a response and then after a moment he did blink his eyes focusing on AC who then turned to John, “Hey, John, I think he’s coming around.”

John elbowed passed AC, relief plain on his features as he could see Bryan trying to smile a bit one of his hands pointing towards the title Georgie held and giving a thumbs up, all three laughed a bit. “Don’t worry, kid the doc’s going to be here in a minute to check you out.” John grinned squeezing Bryan’s shoulder as he looked towards the other two. “I got this guys, we’ll call you after the doc’s seen him, get some rest, we’ve got a Pay Per View to get ready for..”

“John, what’s wrong with him!?” Georgie said suddenly putting the belt down on the edge of the table as Bryan had apparently stopped breathing at all. His face went even a shade paler as the three clustered around him unable to get him to respond as he sat there gasping like a landed fish. Then it happened, with a violent cough that caused Bryan to slip right off the exam table and onto his knees blood erupted from his lips splattering all over the front of John Henry’s white suit, sending both Georgie and AC leaping backwards in shock.

“FUCKING HELL!” AC yelled turning in an instant as he slammed his way out of the door calling for the doc.

“Jesus!” John exclaimed kneeling down covered in blood and all, looking frantically as he screamed at Bryan who appeared was slumping over out cold. “You’ve got to breathe kid! Breathe!”

Bryan didn’t hear, the world had gone black.

(****)
(4 hours earlier, backstage at the Luxor)

Bryan grinned as he high-fived a passing tech, “Jacob how they hanging big guy!”

“Hey Bryan, you up for taking on the Ruckster tonight,” the kid asked, adjusting the headphones on his head while he temporarily set down the box of t-shirts he was in the process of delivering to the front of the hotel.

“Hey Jacob,” Bryan paused giving him a little bit of a hurt look with his bottom lip sticking out a little bit, “this is me.. I’m always ready! In every since of the word. Tell your Mom I said hi, your kid like that t-shirt I signed?”

“Yeah, thanks a lot for that, and I will.”

“No worries my friend no worries,” Bryan paused to shake his hand and then whistled quietly to himself as he made his way back to the locker room. Sometimes life was good, he was young… devilishly handsome, if he did say so himself, and about to become Global Champion of SCW after three months. Of course there was a little matter of a cage match against Ryan Ruckus to contend with but… he was confident, it wasn’t like he’d never been in the ring with the guy before and he was as prepared for a match as he could ever remember being. One thing about fighting a guy as experienced as Ryan, there was a film of him against every kind of opponent doing every kind of counter and move imaginable. Right now Bryan felt like he could put on a Ryan suit and fool Foxy into thinking he was the guy. Not that he’d want to mind you… if she’s with Ryan there’s GOT to be something wrong with her… maybe like the fact that she enjoyed snuggling up with a chain smoking Methuselah for starters!

Verbal salvoes had been launched all week, promos had been shot, weights lifted, now… now there was nothing to do but sit back for the next couple of hours and decompress, get into the right head space for this. He knew Ruck was going to throw something at him he’d never seen before knew it to the bottom of his toes and he had to be ready for it. Speaking of which he needed to get back to the locker room, double check on word from the PETA lawyer on the settlement and on the acupuncture needles in Georgie’s back. How she’d ever agreed to let him jab almost a hundred needles into her back he’d never know, but she had… twice! That was either a great deal of trust or she really was punch drunk. Thank god for the lessons of childhood, he smirked a little bit as he approached the door of his locker room.

“How you feeling Georgie,” Bryan heard John say through the door and paused to cock an ear and listen to the exchange, the bare crack that was left by the ill fitted door providing all the acoustics he could want.

“Peachy. If you want to know how fine, John lay down let me stick these in your back next!”

“Yeouch!” laughed John and Bryan could hear the movement as he sat down on the table next to her. “You going to be alright for your match is what I was getting at kid?”

Georgie snorted shifting a bit on the table and flexing her toes a few times.

“Yeah, I’m fine John. I’m not the one you should be worrying about…”
John made a non-committal noise and a brief silence followed, “You think he knows what he’s about to get into?” He asked fiddling with something as he checked on the needles in her back.

“Not a chance…”

“He’s going to get his ass kicked is what I think… he’s never been in the ring with something like this before.”

Bryan blinked turning slightly as he rested his back against the cool cinderblock wall of the arena. Was that really what his friends thought? That he wasn’t ready? That he wasn’t prepared for this match? He’d been getting ready for this match his whole fucking life! Bryan’s head thudded off the brick for a moment and he turned almost ready to bust into the locker room and confront the pair of them right now. Now DARE they not believe in him, after everything he and John had been through…

No, he wouldn’t go in there. He pushed off the wall and started stalking down through the hallways a much different person. Gone were the jokes and the casual conversation with the techs and other people he passed in the hallways, the jovial mood, the funny jokes, the devil may care attitude. Yeah, he’d prove it tonight, show them how ready he was better fucking believe it! He ground his teeth together a bit and paused to look at his reflection in the mirror, the cold black eyes staring back at him where those of a long left behind acquaintance. But he had to admit, he had missed them, and perhaps that was exactly what was needed tonight.

(*****)
(Spring Valley Hospital Medical Center, 3 hours post Wildcard)

The doctor that walked out into the waiting area was in his late fifties to early sixties, slim, with an egg shaped head with a scalp that reflected slightly the harsh overhead lighting of the hallway, and tightly held onto a few thing wispy strands of white hair. He was jotting a few notes on a clipboard until the moment he stopped walking, and then a pale thumb flicked the ballpoint shut and squinted slightly behind his thick rimmed glasses.

“Ummmm,” he hummed slightly as he took in the three, John still half covered in blood stains and Georgie and AC lounging talking in slightly hushed tones, all three looked up expectantly at his approach. “The… Payne party, correct?”

“Yeah doc,” John was on his feet as soon as the doctor spoke, the fear and panic plain on his features, “how is he?”

The doctor gave a bit of a smile and nodded slightly, “Well he’s in a lot better shape than you probably thought when you brought him in here, there is no internal bleeding.”

“But all that blood, Jesus,” AC muttered shaking his head a bit.

The doc nodded a bit, and then tucked his pen back into the breast pocket of his jacket.

“And well there should have been, he bit clean through his tongue, probably from that fall you described when you brought him in, about a dozen stitches, and he swallowed more blood than his system could handle… well he threw it up.” He doc nodded at the shocked look on all three faces, “It’s more common that you might think, the human stomach can only hold a pint or two of straight blood, and the tongue is almost totally blood filled muscle and tissue. His ribs are bruised and he has some quite remarkable cartilage pulls… but he’s young and in good physical condition he should heal pretty fast with rest.” The doctor referred down to his clipboard again and then nodded, “I’ve written a prescription for some anti-inflammatory, an antibiotic mouthwash to prevent infection, and the swelling should go down within seven to ten days, after that the stitches will pop out on their own, but, I would suggest getting him a pen and paper in case he needs to communicate with you..”

“Wait,” said AC, actually busting out laughing. He clutched the middle of his stomach and was totally oblivious to the dirty looks both Georgie and John were giving him.

“This isn’t funny!” Georgie kicked AC squarely in the shin, but he kept laughing any way waving his arms to stall them while he tried to catch his breath.

“Oh damn, this is good.. “ he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, “Doc, are you telling us that BRYAN PAYNE can’t talk for a week!?”

“Well,” said the doctor, “I wouldn’t say can’t, but you’re not going to understand it, his tongue is three times its normal size.”

All three traded looks, AC’s shoulders still shaking as he fought to contain the laughter still bubbling around the edges. Georgie was next to break, slapping a hand over her mouth and turning her back to the group, but even she failed to keep it in when John barked out a laugh a rumbling roar of equal parts amusement and relief. The three DR members clutched each other’s shoulders laughing and making incoherent noises to each other pretending to have swollen up tongues while the doctor looked on with quiet disapproval.

“If you’re finished he is awake.”

That seemed to sober then quite a bit, John nodded and started walking towards the room the doctor indicated. AC paused a moment before calling out, “Hey John, give me the keys and the ‘scripts, I’ll run down to the pharmacy and get them filled.”

“What,” said Georgie, giving him one of THOSE looks, “you’re not going in with us to see him?”

“No offense, but I think Bryan will understand, being accused of being your male nurse is one thing Georgie… Being accused of being Bryan’s is something else again!”

When the two entered the room Bryan was sitting up on a hospital bed, looking none the worse for wear. His torso was rapped in bandages and tape, and a gauze packing stuck out of the corners of his mouth that was packed around the sutures to soak up the blood over the next couple of days and to prevent rubbing. He was picking at a t-shirt very gingerly working it over his arms so he could get out of here. While he didn’t have Georgie’s neurotic fear of them, that didn’t mean he wanted to spend any longer in one that he absolutely had to. He looked up as they walked in and gave them a quick thumbs up to reassure them he really was ok.

“Thank god kid!” Said John laughing going up to Bryan and having to physically restrain himself from giving him a hug that likely really WOULD break a rib, instead he settled for helping Bryan get his t-shirt on. Bryan looked up trading glances between them for a moment before smiling as much as he was able with his mouth stuffed full like that and gestured around his waist.

“Yeah you won, I guess this means you’re going to be even more full of yourself huh?” Georgie sniffed punching his shoulder slightly less hard than she normally would and was slightly surprised at how vehement the nod in return was.

“I guess you were right Georgie, Ryan really wasn’t ready for this kid.” John smiled like a proud parent as he supported some of Bryan’s weight as he stood up on slightly shaky legs. Bryan looked a little confused and then with a shake of his head nodded and gave John and Georgie a quick gentle hug that neither of them quite understood… but then again when your last conscious memory was vomiting a stomach full of your own blood out onto the lap of your best friend… you were bound to act a little funny.

“Come on, let’s get this guy home before he decides he wants to start hugging the nursing staff,” Georgie snickered a bit as she said that and gathered up a few odds and ends like the wrestling leggings they had cut off Bryan when the first wheeled him in, his watch and some personal items that they’d brought with them to the hospital. A week with a Bryan who couldn’t speak?! What would that be like….

(****)
(48hrs later, SCW.com: Statement Written by Bryan Payne)

Hey SCW nation, your NEW Global Champion Bryan Payne here coming to you on SCW.com. First off, I would like to thank all of you for your outpouring of support following my big win, and well wishes in the hospital; fortunately my injuries were not nearly as bad as originally believed. I am sore, bruised, and have a dozen stitches in my tongue, but I am going to be ready to go for No Limit and you can take that to the bank! I also want to apologizes to my small legion of loyal State of Sin followers, that there will not be a show this week because, I can’t talk. No worries we will be up and running again soon and I promise you a great show to make up for the lay off.

Now to give you all some details on what’s been going on with me the official doctor’s report states that as I hit the ground I managed to bite completely through my tongue…. Funny how that happens when a two hundred a thirty pound man falls on top of you from a story and a half in the air isn’t it? I didn’t sever any tissue completely free, but the resulting bleeding caused me to swallow an unsafe amount of blood in a short period of time, which made me throw it all up at once all over my Manager John Henry as some of you may have witnessed. This was not caused, as some speculated, by internal injuries. My ribs are fine, little banged up and sore like the rest of me, and enough so to force me to take a break in my training schedule for the first time in a couple of years, but nothing that won’t heal on its own. The doc tells me that the swelling should start going down in seven to ten days, which puts it right about the time of the pay per view, so after the break following the War Games match I should be back to giving verbal tongue lashings to those who desperately need it here in the World of Sin.

I want to give a massive shout out to the backstage crew at the Luxor, the SCW techs and support staff who were great taking care of me and getting me to the hospital, my friends Georgie Nickles, AC Thunder, and John Henry who were the first people there at the hospital to share the good news from the doc, and all of you. I am truly and deeply touched by the explosion in my email box that resulted from those events, both in congratulations for the win and prayers concerning the apparent injury. I can only strive to be a champion and a man worthy of such praise and devotion and will do my best each and every day to be a Global Champion you can be proud of and help take SCW to ever greater heights. The first battle in Defiance Reborn’s war has been fought and won, but it is only the first fight needed to change the way the game is played here and across the Experts.

But what have we won really? Well I won’t this Global Championship, but if DR is prepared to declare Wednesday Night a victory… what was the goal? Last week Stu Who asked the question of us here in DR what made us so special, what made us so different from Anti-hero’s Anonymous to make us think we could come into this world of SCW and make a difference when so many other’s have come and gone and failed before us… I admit I asked myself the very same question upon hearing Stu’s words and to be honest in the last days and hours leading up to my match with Ryan I knew a moment of doubt. I found myself lost, I questioned my self, my teammates and even the cause we had thrown up. A few simple words from Stu had made me question the entire path my life was on… in the same manner the guy on the street corner who shouts “the end is near” does!

Give me a break Stu, you answered you own question. You have been here for years, and still not accomplished cleaning up the act backstage, since your return you’ve been a doormat for Sin’s Elite, Valerie “don’t call me Lamb” Belmont, and almost anyone else that crosses your path. You lurk around backstage with the Phantom of the Opera trailing along in your wake muttering to yourself realizing the truth even before we point it out. Your great career your mission AA, its all resulted in the same necessary conclusion… you’re a failure Stewart. You said it yourself you have failed to live up to your talent, you have failed to help turn AA into a real team, hell Ex would rather tear your head off than Doug’s and Ryan is too busy playing ‘my dick’ with Hillman to help either of you out, you failed to put a stop to the backstage mongering and corruption, you failed to get control of your own demons, you failed to get the tag titles, you failed to get the United Title… you failed you failed you failed. And Stu, THAT is WHO you are.

Now I will give you massive props for your win over AC last week, hell he’s one hell of a competitor and you got a clean victory over a guy who should have beaten you. Great job. But let’s be honest here for a moment just between ourselves and the thousands reading this blog… even Big Slick won a match not long ago. The cold hard truth of the matter Stu is that if we re-fought that match last Wednesday a hundred times you’d lose ninety-nine of them. I even think somewhere in the deep dark recesses of your brain you know that, but of course you can’t come out and say it. Someone has to try to keep the sinking ship afloat a little while longer and that job fell to the least stable person in the group. R2 has is own problems Ex is looking for a place to stick the knife in and there’s Stu yelling at the top of his lungs, wailing that they are still relevant. Well last week the excuse you used for that relevance was Ryan Ruckus’ Global title reign, which is now… at an end.

Stu’s win, though impressive, is Pyrrhic at best. I defeated Ryan, Georgie defeated Cash, Doug didn’t go near a ring, Wolf got his ass handed to him in the six man tag match, and Ex ends up in title limbo coming up just short yet again! Out of all that mess you think a single victory set against that tidal wave of failure in any way puts doubt on the outcome at No Limit? Oh you’ll fight hard, and I’m looking forward to it, you’re going to give us everything you’ve got and it’s going to be three very tired friends in DR sharing a victory arm raise, but make no mistake that that’s exactly what’s going to happen. Because when the chips are put all out on the table and the match is on the line you do what comes natural, and what comes natural for you since you returned from your “near death experience,” is losing.

Speaking of losers, whatever I expected from Extream it wasn’t to see him turn into a crybaby! He and I had our run in back in the Legacy Tournament and went to war with each other in and out of the ring, he was the first opponent I came across in this company who earned my respect inside the ring. He is a rare combination of speed and power that just isn’t found easily, you’re born with it and you cultivate it with a lifetime of hard work. I found that out in the ring, and he found out that my will to win is second to none. I like to think we walked out of that match with a little bit of shared respect for each other, at least their in ring abilities, I like to think that we showed each other a little bit of what we’re each made of. This is one of the reasons his rant last week disappointed me so much.

Here you have Extream one of the most talented, accomplished men on this roster, having a bitch fit because he isn’t getting more title shots? My friend you’d have gotten your title shot if you had delivered in the ring against me! You’d have a title around your waist right now if you weren’t dedicated to the principal of jobbing for Doug E Fresh. But that’s right, you’re blaming that on your nutbag of a partner Stu right? You’re blaming all of Ex’s little worries on him… poor Extream someone tried to pin him in a triple threat match. Poor Extream isn’t being rewarded for his losses with title shots. Poor Extream, being passed up by younger more talented wrestlers. That’s what the issue really is here… Extream sees people like myself and Val, people who he can’t hope to complete with on a regular basis moving right on past him, accomplishing things he hasn’t yet and seeing his window of opportunity to return to relevance in this company grow smaller and smaller. Until finally with me winning the Global Title and having to beat Valerie one on one to get the United Title, he finds it closing… completely. So he starts flirting with Doug, hoping to give himself a new shot by sucking up to the Boss. So tell me Ex have you asked Bobbie Joe to take one for the team yet?...Or are you going to take the dicktation personally?

The last time we fought Extream you spent the whole week talking about how green I was, how your experience gave you some kind of edge over me, and where did that get you exactly? Now I’ve managed to do in a few short months what you never have… win the Global Championship… how does that taste? Get used to it my friend because it’s going to be a taste you’re going to have to learn to enjoy if you want to stick around in SCW: The House that Payne rebuilt. So squeeze yourself into that ring gear of yours and get ready for No Limit, and while you’re at it settle on exactly which team you’re on. It doesn’t matter win or loss wise because either way you’re going down, but A-A is a sinking ship my friend, you’re lashed to a Looney Tune and a fallen icon in a contract dispute with his Manager. You would rather be in a no DQ match with Stu but here you are, so make your choice, get in the ring and be ready for War Ex, because whichever one of us… myself, AC Thunder, or Georgie Nickles gets in the ring with you, you’re the first guy that gets put away.

That brings us to the last member of this coalition of the barely willing and almost capable, my opponent last week, Ryan Ruckus. Well congrats Ruck you managed to do what no one else in this company has done, quite literally shut me up, at least for a week. To your credit you did it by showing the heart of a fucking warrior in that cage, and you showed me if only for a short time, the heart that made you a multi-time Global Champion to begin with. You are, without a doubt, one of the most complete opponents I’ve ever stepped into the ring with. But at the end of the day my friend, I’m holding the strap now. You on the other hand have a team breaking apart around you, two partners who would, as I said previously, rather be in a match against each other than watching your back, and are about to be staring across the ring against your most hated opponent… Doug E Fresh. Oh and let’s not forget also being in the ring with another team that includes TWO Global Champions and a True Expert title holder. Getting nervous yet R2? You should be.

Because even worse than what happens if Stu and Ex go at it, what happens to you if Ex crosses lines… if he and Wolf start double teaming and hopping from ring to ring taking people out. I know what happens to me, I’ve got two people I can count on backing me up. You have question marks that go far beyond Ex jumping ship. You have to worry if your own Manger is going to screw this up for you out of spite, if Stu is going to have a mental break down, and if Doug will throw this match just to hurt you. After all he is in a bit of a mood since dropping those tag belts. Ultimately Ryan you haven’t been there for Stu and Ex while they’ve been getting cheated out of title shots, and while this discord between them has driven a wedge right into the heart of A-A. You haven’t been there for your “friends” so should any of us be surprised when it’s now a question mark if they’ll be there for you at No Limit? Now you can come out here and give us the same dog and pony show about A-A being a long running group yadda yadda yadda, veterans yadda yadda yadda, but we all know the lie rolls easily off the tongue at this point. You’re three jumped up egos trying to co-exist for survival and the wheels have started popping off… first Stu and Ex, and now you’ve lost the one thing that held the team together… your Global Title reign.

Now I’ve been hearing all the rumors about that little smile after the cage match. Ryan has never been one to shirk someone in the respect department and that’s some well due credit I give him. It was a good match, I’ve heard that one; he was glad the title changed hands cleaning rather than in another screw job as has become almost cliché around here. Then of course there’s a group that says he *let* me win to try to get out of his contract with Hillman. First I think we should all remember that we are talking about Ryan here and hyperbole aside… not Doug. But while we’re on the subject of conspiracy theories let’s go all out shall we I’ll go next: Ryan was smiling because he fell on me on purpose trying to take me out permanently and more specifically out for the No Limits pay per view. Now see how silly the rumor mongering is? But we’ve wandered a little far from the course, we were talking about Ryan and A-A…

The three of you had better come together in a damn quick hurry, because DR really doesn’t draw a distinction between those who take part in the corruption and those who are merely complicit in its continuation. You’ve all talked a great game about saying you stand for the same things that we do, but AC and I showed just how vulnerable Sin’s Elite really is. Hell Doug was the guest ref and they couldn’t beat us. Doug called out both his henchmen and they still couldn’t pin me to the mat. So either the whole lot of you are laying down on purpose for Doug… or as a group you’re some of the most over hyped over rated competitors I’ve ever seen. Either way, it’s time to face facts your time is near the end, and the only thing A-A is good for right now is filling up space on the card and singing a few autographs in front of the building to adults with small children who will spend the whole time talking about how much they loved you… when they were kids. But at No Limit you have one shot, one chance to recapture the glory you’ve lost and tainted through not delivering on your words… one shot in a war games match against Defiance Reborn and Sin’s Elite… perhaps your last shot as a team. No Limit will forever be known as the pay per view, that Anti-heros Anonymous bet it all, and crapped out.

And now Sin’s Elite. Doug brought this collection of mercenaries together by a rather simple method, the same method he’s using to try to get Extream into the mix, by promising title success. To be fair he’s largely come though on that, J.T. Cash, a guy with about as much ability as Brandon Gateman, is the TV Champion now… and Doug and Wolf’s run as Tag champs, though marred by a thousand dirty deals, was impressively long. But it’s over now. It wasn’t that long ago that Wolf and Doug E Fresh couldn’t stand each other… could it really be that hard for those feelings to bubble back up to the surface without the gold strap around Wolf’s waist to remind him to be a good doggie? Speaking of Wolf, I was just in a grueling cage match, and Wolf played a star beat down role in a losing effort to gain the United States title. I mean did you see him hit those steel steps? I wonder how he’s feeling this week, or if he’ll even manage to show up for the match.

That’s not really fair, I know he’ll show up because underneath the bullshit and the bravado a competitor really is hidden underneath there… somewhere I’m sure. The guy who first got into this business with the idea of making a dream come true is there, but he’s been largely forgotten in his quest to remain a champion and to suck on the teat of hand outs that Doug is willing to dole out. Here’s the thing though, nothing you do in this match will get that belt back my friend. Or put you in contention for any other belt in this business, you’re in that match for the sole and only reason of trying to salve Doug’s ego after the loss. He’s come up short against me and my friends in DR, and he’s smells blood in the water against A-A, so here you are.

In fact Wolf, I’d like you to take a good good look at your stable mate J.T. Cash. An opponent that my friend Georgie Nickles made look like a chump last week, and who you tried to jump. See we’re not like A-A we don’t just let our friends get beaten up and screwed over night after night… we’re ready for it, we plan for it, and pay back is a bitch. Think on that for a while, maybe it’ll salve the ego of losing the belts and then failing to win the United Title. Now I know you’re sitting there thinking ‘but what about Joey Crash attacking AC Thunder?’ I’m not saying Defiance Reborn is infallible, but Joey Crash will get his in due time. Trust me on that one, DR is a group that repays it’s debts in kind and the little brownnose will find out the hard way that we’re not above getting our hands dirty in the gutter to keep the trash off the streets.

But we were talking about JT Cash weren’t we, my apologies. Cash is the type of guy who has been around forever, so long he’s become part of the fabric of SCW like a statue… and with about as much personality. So long that people start claiming that experience and longevity as talent, the two things don’t always amount to the same thing my friends. Now I’m sure there are going to be a lot of long time SCW fans who are going to cry foul at me running the guy down this way, and hey that’s they’re right, you know my email address we’ll take you up on it on the next State of Sin, but the fact remains he’s the weak link in a plastic chain. After Doug and Wolf lost the backup of Andre Walker they had to find a replacement to stop the three on two beat downs they were in danger of from an A-A they had been screwing over for months at a time. Now I can understand the impulse to grab the guy they knew of the best, the one most easily influenced by the possibility of success he wouldn’t have to earn (because he wasn’t capable of earning it), but I have to find fault with the results.

So you take this guy in you pump him up, you arrange for him to win a title and you generally go about trying to sell him as something special by touting the fact he was voted into the Hall of Fame as the guy who got the most people over by playing chalk outline laying down on the mat. I’m not saying the guy couldn’t have won a title legitimately… I think the women’s title is well within his ability to capture, just don’t make him wear a dress… there are children watching! Seriously, I don’t think this guy could punch his way out of a wet paper bag with his ass on fire, his only hope at not being one of the first three eliminated is if he ends up paired with Extream who finally sells out completely. Outside of that divine intervention his relevance in this match is going to be relegated to a recap footnote of how it all went wrong for Sins Elite. In a War Games match you can have no weak links like this. No question marks or doubts about your partners, and even if Doug and Wolf don’t doubt this guy all of the fans know he’s playing out of his depth in this match. So instead of enjoying his brief TV title run he’s instead doomed, doomed I say, to get embarrassed in the Main Event at No Limit and expose exactly how vulnerable of a champion he is. You can thank Doug E Fresh for that JT.

Doug E Fresh. Hell what else can I say about this guy? There is a definition of insanity that suggests it ultimately boils down to repeating the same actions expecting different outcomes. Doug, you can’t even manage to beat me when the cards are deliberately stacked in your favor, what chance to you have when the only people who don’t like you more than I do… are also in the ring with you at the same time? Let’s be clear, this is a three on three on three match, but it really boils down to two on one three times until it’s just a fight out between A-A and DR, at least on paper. No one trusts you enough to let you stay in this match much past the first bell, any of the three of you. I know if it ends up being myself Ryan and Doug in the same ring.. I’m confident in knowing that Ryan would rather us both put you away Douglas and then settle a few things from the cage match one on one in the ring. I think the fans would like to see a little preview of the rematch right then right there too don’t you think?

This War Games match is going to be one of the biggest and most exciting things SCW is going to have seen in a long long time, but any hype questioning the eventual outcome is just that. Defiance Reborn has come together for very clear reasons, and that is to clean house; which starts with these two groups of ex champions desperate to cling to one last shot at stardom. Their stars are fading, their skills declining, before too long Doug’s greatest opponent is going to be a spare tire from sitting at his desk doing paperwork, and Stu will find out that Bella is really a figment of his imagination! I know we’re not supposed to say that out loud it’s never a good idea to unload on a guy that his alternative personality is a chick, but come on… he’ll get over it.

Defiance Reborn is here to stay, and a new age is coming to SCW and the Experts. There is nothing these two or anyone else can do about it, it will happen, and the sooner everyone realizes that and gets with the program, the better off we’ll all be. We’re not here to take over, fuck that, we don’t want the paperwork, we are here to insure that people aren’t screwed over by a megalomaniacal pencil pusher trying to dredge up his glory days by surrounding himself with a couple flunkies and using them to artificially secure what his talent no longer can. Now I don’t really care if you’re the biggest shit bag in this company, if you want to make sure no one interferes with your match so a score can be settled once and for all… that is part of what Defiance Reborn is all about. Just because I might not like you, doesn’t mean you’re not entitled to the same benefits we’re fighting to secure for the whole roster. I mean look where Doug’s mouth has gotten us as a company, Doug is about to go up against someone from a bankrupt company and if he fails to back up his mouth as he has consistently here… some random Canadian yahoo (sorry AC,) is going to get a title shot. Now don’t take this to mean I’m complaining, not really. I will proudly take this SCW title kick SG Martin’s ass all the way back to TFWF where he can prove not only can’t he win a title in his own fed, he can’t win one… anywhere. The guy is making a career out of not closing the deal. And he can turn right around at the arena door and return to that begging gypsy show of a promotion of his and disappear into the appropriate oblivion from which he came.

This is really the boat that all six of these men are in. You see they are very quick to drop the veteran card, when trying to get a point across, but let’s look at what that really means for a moment. See a few years ago SCW was a very small pond and those were the biggest fish in it, but things have changed, new talent expanding markets, larger crowds and an ever growing role within the Experts group… have turned SCW from a small time operation into a growing powerhouse in this industry. But that’s caught up with these six guys, they can’t compete anymore with the talent coming though those doors night after night because now they find themselves out of the stock pond and thrust into the vast ocean. But they don’t adapt or change to this new reality they still swim around screaming their heads off ‘here I am I still matter!’ The problem with this gentlemen, is that out here in the Ocean, there be sharks… and you’re all drawing giant bulls-eyes on yourselves. Georgie Nickles and myself, we are the vanguard of that change, that tidal wave of new talent rising up though the SCW ranks, and together with AC Thunder we are creating a bridge between the past of this company and the future. That is what Defiance Reborn is and together we are going to shatter the ‘good old boys’ club that has prevailed here for far far too long.

So to A-A and Sin’s Elite, I want you to climb up into your little club houses and talk about how you’re going to somehow pull it out of your asses at No Limit. How you’re going to enter the ring with the Global Champion, AC Thunder, and True Expert Georgie Nickles, and pull one out of your asses. I want you to talk about how AC is tearing apart all his opponents in the J Cup, how Georgie is leaving a path of destruction in her wake all over the Experts world, I want you to talk about how Bryan Payne has beaten each and every one of you. Then I want you to sit down, and look at each other, and look into the mirror and face the harsh cold reality that to me… you’re each just another three count. Bring the Payne at No Limit people, feel it. Feel it and weep.

(The Gym)

It was only the second day Bryan had been allowed to train since Wildcard. He grunted, unable to breathe though his mouth because of the gauze and the swelling he narrowed his eyes forcing the breath back through his nose to fill his lungs as he dead lifted the ball weights one, then the other. The eight bound cast iron balls with their hoop grips lifted into the air to either side of his body held wide with his arms fully extended as the dim lighting in the private gym played off the lines of rounds of his muscles. His shoulders and deltoids stood out lividly, and while he had never been an overly muscular man, his level of physical fitness did create a tight, compact, well defined physique. He was working out alone for the moment, John Henry was out running errands or some such… Georgie and AC were likewise attending to their own training or whatever it was they did on their rare days and hours off.

What did Bryan do? This.

The gym was his whole world, the ring his only real reason to get out of bed in the morning. People talked a lot about his attitude and why he talked so much, the plain truth of the matter is that he did look down on anyone who’s commitment was less than his own. He did see himself as better than a lot of the people who walked though the door… and he hadn’t been proven wrong. There had been moments of self doubt now and then, particularly back in Japan when learning the moves didn’t go well, the first injury, the first loss, the first time he ever came up against an opponent who beat him over and over again. He carried that around with him, and it fueled him in moments like this, his eyes staring into themselves in the mirror across the room quietly urging him on. Stronger, faster, tougher, better, never still never the same always better… got to be something greater than just human. You have to be larger than life.

A thud rang out though the small enclosed space as both bells clanged against the thin rubber matting that covered the plywood on the floor and he walked over to the wall, taking a few moments to stretch and fall within himself, his hands sliding against his sides trying to ignore the pulling soreness of his still aching ribs. Fuck they hurt sometimes, it wasn’t the wrenching pain that told him to stop, but rather the nagging ache that made it that much harder to maintain focus to clear his mind of everything but the rhythm of his own breathing. To still thought itself so that nothing remained but himself. Working out, preparing for a match, that was where Bryan Payne found his Zen, his peace and purpose.

Bryan gripped the handles tightly, the metal’s textured surface biting into the palms of his hands with a familiar roughness that was reassuring in a way. He positioned his elbows into the padded stirrups on either of the arms coming out of the wall, bolted to hold a man five times Bryan’s size, and grunted again. His lower body lifted off the ground as he brought his knees up almost to his chest and then pushed them outwards away from his body, his upper body now tensing up almost every muscle working as one smooth finely honed instrument to keep himself steady against the pull of gravity. That was what wrestling was really: defying laws of nature each and every day. Pushing the human body beyond the bounds of physical endurance by mere will and passion, and then getting ready to do it all over again. He brought his legs back into the centerline of his body and then twisted up to the left and to the right working all of his abdominal muscles feeling the twitching burn and then lowered his legs, his feet touching the ground lightly. Then with his feet held together he began to lift himself up off the ground finding a smooth steady movement that maintained his level of burn while the sweat poured off his body.

The easy part was done now. He’d won the Global Title, and that was the easy part. The harder part, the real challenge was keeping it now that he was the guy with the bulls-eye on his back, the one everyone was gunning for. This week, No Limits, things were a little different, the War Games match. It wasn’t going to be one somebody he was in the ring with, but two. It wasn’t about titles or proving who could talk the best line of smack… because obviously it was Bryan (right?), it was about surviving long enough to make an impact. Perfect faith, perfect trust in one’s teammates to also win their matches as well. He smiled a bit, at the memory of Stu’s words not long ago. People often misunderstood why he said the things he did, why he spouted off at the mouth so vehemently, but the part that amazed him was that they still couldn’t help themselves but to be sucked right in. They couldn’t help but try to respond, try to one up him, as though it mattered what he said or they said, what it mattered was what Bryan was doing right now, this moment. Adding even more layers of muscle and focus, molding his body into a living weapon… to be pointed and unleashed at the poor fucker who got in his way.

Though stress, bones became harder as layers of cassium were added on to endure the constant shocks; muscles thickened, hardened, becoming shock absorbers that would allow the human body to endure punishment that would end lesser men. This was the only real secret of Bryan Payne; the source of his arrogance was that no one worked harder, or was more driven. Bryan lifted his legs feeling the steadily increasing burn in his lower gut, yes that was it. He supposed it was mildly flattering the way people had tried to step up their game, their reactions to the verbal bombs he lashed out at them, it was like kicking an ant hill and watching everything go batshit. He just wished people like Stu wouldn’t condemn themselves at the same time they were trying to fire back. Have a debate with Bryan Payne… are you crazy? Stu had said himself that he had lost the fire… that A-A had… lost he spark of idealism that might once have burned inside them. To them now it was better to get along out of fear of what might change if you didn’t. To them ‘getting along’ was success. That was why they would fail at War Games, and why they weren’t going to be able to go the distance with either Sin’s Elite or Defiance Reborn. Why was Bryan painting in such large brushes tarring both groups equally? Because all it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do… nothing. A-A was no longer part of the solution, if they ever were, they were now part of the problem.

Working his abs was important now, they had to be hard as a rock right now. It would help, because someone would look at the film from Wildcard, someone would try to end his career in this match. He could smell it on the wind, a roiling boil of resentment and outrage as he lashed them verbally again and again; a violent outcry at their impotence against him inside the ring. He had to be ready, he had to be prepared. This was the moment that they all learned that the new order of things did not flow from Doug, or Stu, or Ryan. All roads now led to the Mountain, and its King was now Bryan. It was something he’d have to prove repeatedly in the coming months to contenders and wanna bees who would parade themselves out like they had a pair to call their own. He might even have to meet one of his Defiance Reborn teammates in the ring for his Global Title; truth be told facing either of them was the singular place where he had a hint of a doubt about his ability to come through. The thing all these people focusing on Bryan seemed to forget sometimes was that he was the least accomplished of the super-group.

Bryan had plenty of in ring experience, and anyone who spoke with him would have zero doubt about his confidence level! But as far as in an inter-fed this large? Ten world class organizations tied together under the Experts banner… he was still a babe in the woods. He had talent to spare, and he wasn’t shy about saying it, and he was getting better he could feel it each and every week things he’d been working on since he was still a kid becoming more and more automatic; and he still wasn’t even twenty-two years old yet. He knew the score, how injuries would bit by bit chip away at his speed, sap the highflying antics that had dominated the first four years of his career, it was why he was so devoted to this training regimen the better shape he kept the faster he bounced back from those injuries. It was why John was turning him bit by bit into a technical mat wrestler so that he had an alternative to suiciding off the top rope to finish off his opponents, and they were lessons he was learning very well indeed.

He knew he wasn’t the best in the world… yet. But he also knew if he continued developing the way he was, he could potentially be. The verbal jabs that led to his opponents resorting in frustration to clutching copies of his promos and trying to say ‘no I’m not?!’ Well that… that was just part of the edge he used to put himself over the top. Let them hate him, let them come after him, hell he wanted it. Because the cold truth of the matter was it was the only way he was ever going to find out how good he really was, and where the ceiling was. Stu was right about that, he was playing kick the bull, and he would go right on doing it until someone showed him that they had the set that would match his. So far the only two people he’d found like that, were his partners… funny how that works out isn’t it?

Respect in this world is a funny thing, it’s not given because of something you did in the past. It’s not measured by win loss records, or by record book title runs, or even by the titles themselves; no respect is earned man to man(woman) in the ring, face to face on the mat. It is earned with every drop of sweat every thin trickle of blood that explodes into a gush, and every spasm of pain that wracks your body as you do this thing that you do like no one else in the world can. Did, Wolf, and Stu, and Doug and Ruckus earned a measure of respect by their past accomplishments? Only in so far as he could borrow respect from the past, because the sad truth was this business chewed you up and spat you out a broken shell of your former self, you were only as good as you last showing. Extream and Ruckus had both earned some measure of respect in his eyes, so had Doug in a kind of sick twisted way, perhaps even more. Because love him or hate him, SCW was on the rise; now you could debate if that was because or despite him all you wanted but you couldn’t shut him out of the conversation. But Wolf? Stu?... Wolf was a bitter scared has been, tortured by the self loathing that comes from betraying your own principals. He’d made his deal with the devil when he partnered with Doug and in the dark corner of his heart hated himself for it. And was there to respect about Stu’s inane ramblings… the fact that low and behold he can put a whole sentence together without having to have Bella bang his head off something to calm him down?

Bryan lowered himself to the floor for the last time, his lower and side abdominals screaming in relief that the grueling work out was over, at least for the moment. He lowered himself onto the thin rubber matting stretching out his limbs again, preventing the adrenaline from becoming trapped in his muscles and stiffening them up. He had to stay loose, focused, centered. That was where the pain of any kind couldn’t touch him, where he could BE Payne.

Bryan shifted back over onto his stomach, crawling over to the wall where a small pile of folded towels lay. He braced his hands apart at shoulder width and then planted the top of his head into the towels and kicked both his feet upwards, his entire body weight coming to rest on those hands that extended his body upwards. He crossed his feet together to center his bodyweight, and they occasionally scraped the wall as he pushed up and down his shoulders and chest now getting the brunt of the work out once again. It was funny to think about but in many ways this is not where he expected to be when he left Japan. He had told John that he would give it a year in the States, if it didn’t work out he would return home to the promotions that knew him, his work, and had been dying for him to sign when he up and jumped for the States.. with little or no warning. But once again John had been proven right, one of these days he would earn to stop questioning him; trust the hand that had plucked him out of dozens of kids who wanted to be wrestlers because he saw something… some… spark.

He’d never been all that clear on what it had been. Maybe it was because Bryan needed wrestling for just for a paycheck. Not for the glory or the crowds… though god knows he wasn’t shy about enjoying them. No he needed it for the simple pure joy of competition. He needed to stare across the ring into his opponent’s eyes and re-fight some kind of inner battle with himself, a reaffirming of the change from his old life to his new. How easy it had been, when all of his problems would be solved with a gun. Now there were no easy solutions, no quick fixes, and truth be told he preferred it that way. It was cleaner somehow, more right, and he could look at himself in the mirror again and now he was becoming someone that he could be proud of; that one day perhaps the fans would be proud of having cheered on along the way. This life wasn’t forever, that was the bargain each and every wrestler made, to dance with the devil and father time until they lost. Crash and burn, game over. Did Bryan tempt fate? Most assuredly, because it was what made him feel the most alive.

When your soul is at peace, the mind and body are one, and can do anything. A simple idea really, but it was one he knew, one that these work outs drilled into his mind like a never ending mantra, like the staccato drip of a leaking faucet. Until it was all you could hear even with all the background noise of life all around you, there was only the center, only the calm certainty of purpose. Outside he would continue to rant, but inside? Inside his mind was moving three steps ahead of the game, inside he was planning his third move before you made your first, because each time you opened your mouth, each time you reacted to what Bryan Payne had said… you were doing exactly what he wanted. Letting Payne dictate the terms of the engagement, forcing you to react to what he wanted you to react to, and ignore everything else that was going on in the background. In this case Stu had been the first to fall for it. But only the first. Confront Bryan, ignore the True Expert and a multiple Global Champion? Why, because Bryan has a big mouth and knows just how to use it to get a reaction? Bryan’s lips curved upwards into a smile, he could feel his heart’s hungry pulse pumping the fiery vitriol of yet more adrenaline into his veins.

“Hey kid,” the intruder to Bryan’s solitude spoke, a pair of brown tan loafers coming into his field of vision. Upside down of course about all he could see was the speakers ankles, but he knew that voice better than that of his own father… John Henry. Bryan didn’t stop, or pause, the needs of the more immediate world around him were secondary to feeding his inner calm at the moment, and John knew this, respected it and didn’t intrude. Instead the big man shifted the gym bag on his shoulder, inside it bore much of the equipment that the two would use though much of the afternoon. Slow and steady right to the limit of what his sore, battered body could endure, preparing it for yet another encounter; another gamble with everything thrown in. It felt good on the mountain top sometimes. “Talked to Jack, the PETA case is now officially over, the suit was dropped. Apparently the results of those paint chips really did come back positive for lead,” the base rumble of John’s voice pierced the calm of the gym, and after a few more push ups this way, Bryan drew his legs once again towards his chest and then out and back rolling over onto his knees and crouching there for a few moments while the blood rushed from his head, and a little smile came to his face, nodding in response to John’s statement. It was a good thing.

“Alright,” continued Henry unzipping the duffel and unpacking a few stacks of towels bottles of water, jump rope, gloves for yet more weight training… Christ Bryan already felt like he was going to turn into a cast iron plate himself, but he gamely lifted himself up off the floor and ambled his way over to where John was standing. “Now, about this War Games match…” John would pause looking at his young charge critically for a moment and then giving an almost imperceptible mental nod.

“You’ve been in triple threats before, you know how that works. Ideally you’ll be in the ring with Doug and Ruckus at the same time.” Bryan looked a little confused and the big man waved the expression off as he went on to explain. “Kid these two guys hate each other more than they could ever even dream about disliking you right now,” he snickered slightly, “Best thing that could happen is to do just enough to provoke them into bashing each other senseless, then swoop in and clean house. Once the other two teams don’t have that anchor they provide… the rest will just be mopping up kid.” John shifted then moving the stakes he’d carefully arrayed out off of the work bench and thrust a bottle of water into Bryan’s hands.

“Here, drink kid, doc says you’ve got to keep the inside of your mouth wet to help it heal. If you think I’m going to read off the shit YOU say on a weekly basis you’re out of you friggen mind!”
A chuckle came out of Bryan’s chest a she took the water bottle, feeding the straw back though the gauze packing until with a squeeze he could slowly pump water into his throat where he could swallow it down. As much as he hated to admit it not being able to talk like this did annoy him, there wasn’t a way around admitting that much. Honestly how could it now? That was by his own admission one of his things, getting into the heads of his opponents, and he enjoyed it greatly every time an opponent wasted their time by dissecting his promo forgetting they weren’t going to do a thing with words inside that ring. All they were proving is that they were giving momentum to Payne.

Bryan handed the water bottle back to John, and walked a slow circuit around the small confined area of the gym. It was an unusual place for him to work out, Bryan typically enjoyed the glitz and spotlight of larger public places, he liked the energy, and to be fair he did like showing off just a touch. He couldn’t help it, he was young after all. This was different though, how quickly people forgot that Defiance Reborn hadn’t just claimed to set about ending Sin’s Elite, they had declared War on the Experts itself; or rather certain elements within it. SCW was going to be the heart of the wave that would rise up disgusted by the smell of backstage deals and power mongering of self-important good ole’ boy networks. It would never end, there would always be someone who tried to get ahead that way, you couldn’t stop it; but what you could do was make sure it never worked. You could make sure that in the end all of their scheming and their plans met with failure because you were as a group too prepared too talented and just to ready for anything they might come up with; because you’d seen it all before.

And between the three of them they had. Wolf was spot on, AC had learned from the best, and what did that say about the three of Sin’s Elite? They didn’t have a guy who could take on MDK at the height of his ability and walk away with a win; Defiance Reborn had two members who proven they could do that. AC had learned his bag of dirty tricks, and so had Georgie against the likes of Kirsta Lewis, Sandy Makel, Lester Only, Hannibal Cage, the list went on and on and on, did Wolf or Stu really think they were impressed by the circle jerk that they’d been having during that time? Both men had some skills, but while Georgie, AC, and himself had been out in the world broadening their experience facing new opponents pushing themselves, those two had stayed in their little safe box. Fighting the same fights against the same people for three years. Oh there were cameo’s and guest roles and occasionally Stu or Ex or someone else would decide they just couldn’t take it anymore and leave, or… well fake their death to get a break. And eventually they’d come limping back acting like they were still due that level of respect when they’d demonstrated they couldn’t handle the week in week out year after year grind this business required.

“Ok kid, enough rest, on the rack.” John smirked a bit slapping the bar of the bench press and drawing a rueful smile from Bryan as he was once again jerked out of his reverie. Working in tandem the two loaded up each side of the bar with the appropriate work out weight and Bryan slide underneath, carefully positioning his hands on the marks provided on that part to insure the maximum effect from each rep. “Give me fifteen, rapid fire, let’s see what you’ve got in the tank after this morning.” John grunted as he lifted the bar from the rack while Bryan adjusted to the sudden weight and then in a flash Bryan was again trying to suck in breath though his nose like a madman as he shoved up and down against the weight pressing down on him. There was a kind of explosive rush that came with each time shoving the weight away from yourself, a small success like lifting the weight of the world off your shoulders.

That was what each and every match was to Bryan in a way. A stepping stone, a new proving ground where he had to prove to himself that he was still on track to meeting his goal. He would be the best in the world one day, but for now he was marked as the best in the here and now. Would and could that change one day? Sure, but he wasn’t about to let it without making damn sure everyone remembered his name. For all their talk about his still being green and new, and unappreciative of this companies past he laid it out on the line each and every week for this companies future, and all of his opponents had one thing in common. They’d all failed to stop him on the way up. Doug had managed to put a hitch in the road with his first Global shot against Ruckus at Legacy, but derailed him?.. He’d spent the next couple weeks making them look like chumps one after the other, even Stu had had his crack at Bryan Payne in that gauntlet match and had left like the other five, with a big fat loss. So if they wanted to talk about respect, maybe they should start with a proper respect for the reality of the situation. Success against lesser competition was no assurance of the future. Change was coming and you could hear it on the lips of every crowd and see it every time he stepped into the ring.

“Aaaand fifteen, ok that’s good.” John said, blinking a bit as he failed to cut though the focus, Bryan continued to shove up the bar lost in the rhythm of his thoughts. He had to push himself even further find the absolute limit! “Kid, you need to stop now, you don’t need to overdo it… Bryan… kid!” John sighed and watched Bryan for a few moments turning around to strap on the gloves he’d use to grab the bar away from Bryan in mid-air; while he was strapping the gloves on was when it happened.

Bryan made a strangled sound, a blazing pain lancing though his side doubling him over and making his arms collapse underneath the weight bringing the bar and all it’s accompanying weight smashing down on top of him. He managed to prevent being totally squished but he screamed just the same, feeling things give and a cold agony spreading though his middle. Oh good Christ it hurt. Fucking hell. John, startled for the second time by Bryan this hurt, reached over grasping the bar and heaving it deadweight from off of Bryan and wracking it, watching in helplessness as Bryan rolled off the bench clutching his sides and ribs while pressing his forehead to the ground. A dark stain seemed to appear on his side as if by Magic. That, was not good.

“Jesus…” John flipped open his cell phone hiding the speed dial. “Yeah Doc,” He said kneeling down next to Bryan his hand clutching the kid’s hair as he tried to hold it together in the face of his concern. “It’s John Henry, there’s been an aggravation of the injury… I think he snapped a few of the bruised ribs… fuck,” he paused a moment to wipe at the corners of his eyes, this couldn’t happen, not to Bryan the way it happened to him. Not another kid’s career ending this way, right on the cusp of what he could become. “Yeah… massive bruising yes… ambulance.. “ John rattled of the address like a zombie and then clutched Bryan as he continued to cry out in what sounded like mortal agony, as if trying to hold the kid together with his arms. “Easy kid, easy.. helps’ on the way…”

(********)

(18 hours later, back at the hospital)
(48hours until No Limit)

“Mr Payne I must protest!” the doctor tried to put his hands on Bryan but was interrupted by John Henry who looked at the doctor gravely and then at Bryan reprovingly before sliding his arm around the much smaller doctor’s shoulders.

“Look Doc, let me talk to him, he trusts me, if you go at him like that you’re only going to get his back up and neither of us wants him to really hurt himself ok?”

“Alright,” the Doctor looked near mutinous to tell the truth, his eyes darting over to Bryan periodically behind the thick lenses of his glasses, “Be sure that you do Mr. Henry, the aggravation of the rib injury has broken several of his ribs, there was no real internal bleeding thank god, but that was pure luck. He even managed to crack his sternum with that bar fall. He needs rest and the LAST thing he needs is to get into a damn wrestling ring and get himself killed!”

“I know Doc, I’m on your side remember?” John sighed a bit one of his hands lifting up to his forehead and rubbing it trying to take away the headache that came from sitting up here at the hospital all day and night without a wink of sleep the night before. That was the trouble with caring about someone like a son though, you worried like he was eventually too. With that John closed the room door behind the doctor and turned back to Bryan, his face hardening as he took in what he saw.

Bryan sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes downward trying to figure out exactly how to reach his shoes. His ribs and chest where a maze of tape and bandages all designed to limit the movement of his torso as much as humanly possible; how he could sit up under his own power was a mystery. The source of the tight pinched look around his eyes, the clenching of his jaw, and the almost imperceptible tremor in his hand as he lay his shirt over his right shoulder illustrated the pain it was costing him. What was he going to do with this kid..

“Listen Bryan…” he began walking over to where the kid sat, and sitting down next to him, “this isn’t a good idea.”

There was a few moment’s pause before Bryan looked up, his eyes looking resolute and with a slight shake of his head showed what he thought of that particular idea. Grimacing, and coming within a hair’s breath of collapsing completely he managed to leverage himself up, standing on his own two feet. His left arm, the side where the injuries where stayed clutched to his side and chest unmoving while he shuffled his foot kicking out occasionally as he literally kicked his shoes ahead of him as he didn’t want to risk picking them up right now. Fucking hell, this kid was insane.
“Bryan, this is insane, it’s one match, you can’t risk your whole career.. hell fuck your career this is you damn life we’re talking about. If you take too much trauma to that left side you could puncture a lung, you could quite literally die in the ring before anyone could help you. Is that what you want?”

He paused at this comment and smiled fondly at John, there was a lot to say, and not a fucking pen in sight. Of course he didn’t want to die, what kind of question was that? But this was who he was, what he did, and for the first time in a very long time there were people counting on him to be their to back them up, and he was damned if he was going to return the favor by not being there for them. He walked over to where John sat, and instead of saying anything he lay a hand on the big man’s shoulder and squeezed, his head game forward and it rested against John’s for a moment before the half embrace was broken and he started moving back towards the door.

“What that’s it!? What I think doesn’t matter anymore because you won that belt! Let’s get something straight here kid it’s not that easy, I’m still your Manager and I say you’re not going near that ring medical waiver or no!”

This time Bryan had made it all the way to the door, and he paused, his shoulders visibly lifting and falling with the sigh that he greatly regretted down to the very last rib he busted.

“I’ll call Georgie and AC and they’ll make you stay out of the match!”

Bryan paused and looked back over at John, a little sadly this time, and instead of addressing the mater forward, gave a slight shake of his head and resumed his slow steady march down the hallway moving more like someone who’d just turned seventy rather than a man who was still short by a month of his twenty-second birthday.

“Dumb kid,” Though John, looking down at his hands, trying to steady their trembling, the very real fear he felt. There was a warm glow or pride too, the fierce competitive nature that had led him to pick him out of all the others who’d wanted to be trained by John “The Hammer” Henry. But it was the size of the kid’s heart that had made them more than just student and teacher, Bryan was the son he never had, and now that son was growing up. Fighting his own battles, battles that John couldn’t help him with anymore however much he might want to. John sighed, lying back on the bed and for the first time in nearly thirty years, he prayed.

(Segment aired during No Limit)

“I’m sorry Mr. Payne, but there’s no way you can be allowed to compete tonight.” The doctor sat behind a desk in the backstage area with a determined expression on his face. After speaking he paused to adjust his glasses, his slightly pinched stressed features a legacy of trying to restrain people apparently bent on destroying their bodies, and considering he, the one that tried to put them back together, as an enemy.

Bryan and John Henry stood in the exam room, the former with one of his hands braced on the doctor’s desk, his middle wrapped with athletic tape, bandages from just under his pecs down all the way to his navel with one section sliding up over his left shoulder. That left arm was clutched to his chest and middle as it had been since the middle of the week when he’d aggravated it in a training accident, now he had a new foe to fight before he could even get out to take on A-A and Sin’s Elite… the doctor!

“Mr. Payne, I sympathize I really do,” the doctor paused removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose before continuing, “but I’ve seen the x-rays and there is simply no way I can possibly give you medical clearance to go out there tonight. For one you are too valuable to the company to end your career for one match… your increasing merchandise sales alone…” he shook his head a bit, “I can’t in good conscious allow you to compete with the knowledge that you are literally putting your life in jeopardy.”

Bryan’s face grew harder, even ignoring the worn out look around his eyes from fighting though the agony just moving caused. He shared a look with John, a pleading expression that despite how much in pained him to do so, he couldn’t ignore. “Look Doc,” he began, the big man moving forward, “Isn’t there some kind of waiver we can sign, that we except responsibility and don’t hold the company liable?”

“Yes,” the doctor said frowning a little and then followed it with a shake of his head, “But I have to sign off on it as well and I won’t. I’m sorry Mr. Payne but if you want to commit suicide you’ll have to do it on your own time… not in my wrestling ring.”

Bryan’s right arm snapped out catching the doctor behind the head and before John could blink there was a violent banging sound as the doc’s head hit the top of the desk making the man shriek in pain. Bryan almost doubled over from the pain but his grip held firm as he bent low over the man, his lips curving back forcing the words out though the gauze and the swelling. “ ‘ign id ‘uckeh! ‘ign id!” He let the man raise his head just a bit and slammed it back down onto the wooden service.

“Fuck!” Said John stepping forward to restrain Bryan and then thought better of it as he caught the wild look in the kid’s eyes; he’d had that look right before he’d broken that baseball bat over that kid’s back in THW.

“Help me!” The doctor said his arms flailing about as the rolling office chair flew out from underneath him in a spray of paperwork that left him trying to find his footing. “He’s crazy!”

“Don’t look at me doc.”
“ ‘ign id!” Bryan hissed banging the doc’s head against the desk for the third time a slight breaking noise heard as his forehead came down on the discarded glasses snapping the nose piece of them.

“What the hell is he saying!?”

“He’s saying, ‘Sign it, fucker.’ I suggest you listen to him.” John smirked just slightly as the doc’s free arms swung around until he found the right sheet of paper accepting the pen that John slipped into his hand and scrawling his name on the dotted line.

“There! There! You crazy son of a bitch go kill yourself!” Bryan released the doctor with a little shove that send him tumbling back onto his butt and clutching his forehead the growing redness that would undoubtedly turn into massive bruising soon.

“Well there you are kid..” John shook his head as he watched Bryan too sign his name on the release form with an emphatic bold hand. Bryan straightened again, a grimace coming to his features and then he gave John a grim determined nod.

From the floor the doc glared daggers at the two men’s backs and then screamed in impotent rage, “What the fuck does he think he’s going to do out there besides get killed huh? He can barely stand up!”

The two men paused and Bryan patted John on the chest telling him to translate. He then took his right hand and lay it a couple of times onto the center of his chest as John said, “I..” Bryan nodded and then held out his left hand, with difficulty, and then with the first two fingers of his right hand made a walking motion across the flat plain he formed with the left until the fingers walked clear of his outstretched fingers. John frowned a moment and then nodded with understanding, “I am going to…”

Bryan nodded with a smile and then repeated the two gestures, this time when he reached the end of his hand his forefinger shot up with a violent kicking motion. “kick?... yeah.. I am going to kick..” Bryan pointed to the promotional No Limit Poster hanging in the office baring all three teams. “I am going to kick their..” Bryan held up his fingers into an O.K. sign. John frowned a bit confused shaking his head as he looked at Bryan. “I am going to kick their ok?...”

Frustrated Bryan repeated the gesture with still no luck and then turned slightly his right hand grabbing the edge of his wrestling tights and pulling them down exposing his ass which he slapped tellingly sending John into a fight of laughter that left the big man slumping against the door frame. “Yeah, He’s going to kick their asses doc,” John shook his head as Bryan glared daggers at both he and the doctor in kind as he rearranged his clothing and took off very slowly down the hallway towards the entrance ramp.

The doctor, still on the floor swallowed a bit and reached into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket where he pulled out a small silver flask. Twisting off the top and taking a long swig of the liquid fire inside he watched the two men walk off and then lifted it up in their direction. “Here’s to you, you son of a bitch… couldn’t happen to a nicer ASSHOLE!”

(Defiance went on to win it's first group effort as Bryan revealed his rib injury had been a tick all along much to the fans delight and his opponents shock)