Post by jessestyles on Jun 11, 2020 21:54:05 GMT
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Frank sat in his hotel room the best that this town could provide which to be honest wasn’t much but as the owners of aGw were paying for he didn’t really care. The remote control was in his left hand, flipping through the channels on his television. He could not sleep, and he hadn’t been able to eat much since his match in the aGw. He’d been beaten by that man-chick Lexxi and it had left a bad taste in his mouth.
The Network had sent him a memo about his use of swearing on Anything Goes Wrestling shows be it in matches or lead up to ones. Frank was tempted just to take a pic of his ass on a photocopier and send that to them but they’d probably got a load of them from the aGw launch show party, especially when Jesse Styles was involved. Fuck them! Fuck them all!
Times were flying past quite quickly. It had been nearly a month since he had come back to the wrestling scene and had signed on with Anything Goes Wrestling and he was still the only undefeated champion within its ranks with his GCW World Heavyweight Championship.
So he sat on the couch and tried to focus on the television, but that did not work. Nothing on at this hour but old, bad movies, self-improvement infomercials, and re-runs of day time talk shows. He had just got back from a night out with his associates Natalia Santiago and Finn Corbyn.
A movie sounded good, in theory – something to draw him in and make him forget about the problems of facing against some loser on the next show. But there were only four on the air, and all four featured either Danny Dyer or Ewan Bremner, and that was just so wrong on so many levels, it made his head hurt.
He was here now, Anything Goes Wrestling; A wrestling superstar in his own rights and not just living in the shadow of the other members of the Bastards, Rob Riot and Billy Fowler. Look at what he had managed to do to Lexxi Starr last show, all on his own even though the ending didn’t go as planned. He didn’t need his old friends to save him all the time. Frank with his associates will put Anything Goes Wrestling out of business with their dastardly antics and dramatic actions.
He had unplugged his mobile phone because he did not want to talk to anyone for a while, but finally gave into it by turning it back on.
Finally, he clicked the television off in frustration. This is getting me nowhere. He went into the bed room, found his suitcase in the closet, and started unpacking his clothes. His GCW Heavyweight Championship belt was sat on the bedside table, he looked at it. A smile crossed his face. He was so going to enjoy pushing that belt until he decided he wanted to go for one of the belts of this company as he was fucking proud that he had got this belt.
Lexi Starr? What was this guy’s major malfunction other than if rumours were correct that he jerks off to Kaitlyn Jenner pictures? He had so much goddamn potential as a superstar in aGw people had said but always seems to come up short with the fans. This guy had managed to scrape himself an aGw Television Championship match at this show only because he had managed to fucking getting one over on the Last Bastard in the end. But aGw was at an all-time low because of him being one of its figureheads? How low can it get? Not much lower it seems. What a fucking bell end!
Frank was one of those types of people that could be a thorn in the side of wrestling industry but had always hidden behind his brothers in the Bastards. That was probably why Riot had fucking stabbed him in the back over the GCW thing. He was the Great One, he was the King of fucking Yorkshire, hell he was Frank Windsor……..Hey he’s unique. Yorkshire Lives Matter!
Anything Goes Wrestling was the place for him at the moment. He remembered watching its first show when it was a fledgling wrestling promotion in Las Vegas, when it was an Independent promotion; before it had the sweet, big-time television deal it does today, but was shown on regional television late at night. When it used to be stuck in that one place but now it travelled the country, literally.
Frank had been trained to wrestle in sunny Bradford. He remembered being a fourteen year old young boy watching some wrestler smacking the living shit out of some punk with a barbwire covered chair once.
Hard-core? Garbage-Style wrestling? That was a recipe for disaster. Why would he want to follow that path? He was Frank fucking Windsor; he could do anything he wanted. But he had grown to adapt his style. He could wrestle most ways and could as easily make them tap than bleed.
He was probably stressed about the task in hand; taking out this punk will be quite easy, what was his name? Oh yeah, Ares. But with the stuff with Natalia Santiago on his mind that probably was fucking with his head too.
Well, he needed a good night’s sleep.
His mobile phone beeped. He picked it up and saw it was a message from Natalia. It said that she wanted to meet him now. This meant that Frank had to go out in the rain. And he hated rain. That was the thing that he hated the most in this fucking country, it was pure evil weather as some parts of the country would be really sun and other cities snowing. But the text had said it was important.
Frank dialled a number on his phone and lifted it to his ear and awaited the answer. After a few second there was an answer.
“Frank?” came the voice from the other end. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Finn, it’s on,” he smiled a sinister smile. “Bring the fucking camera; I think I’ve got to get some mother fucking home truths off of my goddamn chest.”
“Really?” Finn asked. “Have you seen the time?”
“You’ve said that already tonight,” he said. “Now you’re fucking wasting time. Natalia wants to meet up so I think we can get some fucking stuff done at the same time.”
“At 3 in the morning?” Finn asked.
He looked around at the clock, “I said so didn’t I bro? Natalia will meet us down the road, so bring the fucking camera.”
“And you guys will take it from there right?” Finn said. “And I don’t want to be filming some shit for Pornhub? Some of the shit on there is so freaky; so a friend says.”
“Yes. I need to fucking get ready for my match at the Pay per View but this week needs to take priority,” Frank realised he had said the wrong thing as it came out of his mouth.
“Priority?” Finn asked. “What have you got planned?”
“Nothing Finn I’m just fucking talking out aloud,” he said. “I need to sort stuff out for my pay per view match but this thing with Ares needs to work out first. Plus some bitch in the hotel room next door is keeping me awake, singing Britney Spear’s songs. And to be honest I’ve never heard such a fucking awful something that bad.”
Finn laughed on the other end of the phone. “Isn’t that the hotel room with saw Dane go into the other night?”
“Enough, Finn,” he said. “Meet me there in about half an hour.”
He hung up the phone on Finn. Frank pulled on a coat and exited the hotel room for his meeting with Natalia.
His journey to their rendezvous place was uneventful.
The 24 hour Laundromat was situated near by to a busy intersection. It’s a small building, fronted by a synthetic white spray rock façade. The sign identifying it was plastic and backlit, with a number of wire spikes running along the top as a deterrent for roosting pigeons.
Inside, under flickering fluorescent lights, two banks of chipped, outdated, oversized laundry machines rumble and grind, saturating the place with perpetual white noise. The hum and click of the lights seem to bounce off every wall and machine, boring into the very soul. The floor was covered in cracked, patterned vinyl meant to look like tiling, and the walls were painted a cheap, relatively inoffensive green. A single clock on the wall marks time and advertises a popular soap brand. A machine at the back dispensed detergent and fabric softener, and two hard wooden benches provided seating for customers.
There was a small box of lost and discarded items next to one of the machine banks, filled with random cloth items; mismatched socks, a pair of shorts, a child’s t-shirt. Signs warned customers not to abuse or misuse the machines were posted along the walls.
Two figures sat upon these benches. The first was none other than Natalia Santiago; she was playing with her phone whilst the machines were humming. The other was none other than Frank Windsor, he was reading a magazine.
Natalia slowly turned towards Frank looking at him for a few seconds.
“So?” asked Frank.
Natalia smirked, “What?”
“I know you want to ask me something,” Frank said. ”Otherwise we wouldn’t be here at 3 in the morning.”
Natalia shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, you trying to read my mind?”
“Who’s that?” Frank said.
“What? Oh on the phone. It was a message from Finn,” she said. ”he’s on his way but is running at bit late, something about trying to get room service at this time of night.”
Frank laughed, “Him and his fucking coffee.”
Natalia ground her teeth together and clenched one of her fists. “So are you ready for you match with Ares? I watched the punk a few weeks ago. He’s not too shabby but is quite erratic. He won’t stand up to someone of your calibre.”
Frank nodded as he put down the magazine and moved closer to Natalia, “I know, but something in my waters thinks that he’s up to something. I don’t trust the little bastard. Part of me thinks that he is up to something, don’t you fucking think so? That is one of the reasons I needed you with me.”
“I know Frank and I appreciate it and I know you’ve got plans. It’s all in hand I know. This week the roster of aGw will feel the full wrath of Frank Windsor, even without the Bastards to back you up you are the man. You took it to RSW and GCW before and by choosing the weakest link in the roster and taking it out. And then working your way through each and every one of them it’ll put you back on the radar. aGw won’t know what’s hit it.”
Frank laughed and the sound was harsh and sharp, like black, broken glass floating on the night wind.
Natalia looked directly into Frank’s eyes, “Oh? Eventually I will get a contract and wrestle in the ring but until then……….” A corner of her mouth lifted in a contemptuous smile. “………But that can’t protect them all the time.”
Frank laughed and goes for the yawn and hug combination but Natalia spotted what he was doing and moved.
“Don’t even think of that. I’m not falling for that move,” she proclaimed. “Nothing is going to happen until after the pay per view as I don’t want to mix business and pleasure. But come to think of it Frank, you’d probably be turned on by the beating I’d give you in a match right? Don’t lie to me?”
Frank shrugged and a smile crossed his lips, “Maybe a little fucking bit but I can’t promise that you wouldn’t be either. And we could start making out during a match?”
“Bet you say that to ev…………..” she said.
Frank cut her off mid-sentence, “No, not that Mexican slapper Valora or that EMO bitch Rivers.”
“Didn’t say Jesse though?” she teased. “Is there a little man crush there?”
Frank laughed out loud, “Oh Nat. Come on honey, Do I look like the sort of guy that has a man crush? I don’t fucking think so. And if I did it wouldn’t be some two-bit loser freak like fucking Jesse Styles. Have you seen me? I have a big Gay following. Look at these buttocks? These are great fucking buttocks.”
“You’re safe for now honey,” Natalia said.
“Safe? This is wrestling not football. I ain’t Gazza. I have to keep an eye in my corner too as Finn learnt everything from me and like the Sith, the only way to surpass the master is for the student to take out the master,” laughed Frank. “Yes I fucking referenced Star Wars.”
Natalia’s phone beeped once again. She looked at it. “Seems as the first part of my plan is coming into fruition.”
“Oh? What you got planned?” Frank asked.
Natalia tilted her head as she considered the question, then raised her hands to eye level and studied them.
“Nothing that needs to concern you Frank,” she said. “But it will all play out soon.”
“Really?” Frank asked. “Need I be fucking worried?”
Natalia held up her hand, then put a finger to one cheek and tilted her head coquettishly. “Oh it’s all in hand.”
As she said this a tired looking Finn Corbyn entered the building.
“Finn?” Frank said. “What the fuck kept you?”
Finn brought up the camera. “Let’s get this done; you woke me up from a dream with me and the members of the Spice Girls. Well, the good looking ones. Not the moose one with the ginger hair. Nobody likes a ginger. They have no souls!”
Frank smirked and looked into the camera.
“So we are back the aGw arena for this weeks show; back in not so sunny fucking Las Vegas at the moment,” Frank said. “I remember coming to this place with my mates on our jolly’s during the summer months just for the beer and wenches. Well the beer mostly. Have you seen them? Most fucking look like Tom Selleck with breasts. With the utter destruction that the virus is doing here at the moment I was utterly surprised that we’d actually have a show again in that cesspit. Then I realised with Tension in Texas around the corner Jesse needs to be near his own neck of the wood and sod everyone else with their travel plans. Las Vegas has actually been called the fucking Blackpool of the fucking United States. Have they not been to Blackpool before? Did you not see the turds floating in the sea? Or why is Blackpool actually so orange? Probably because of all those Scouse Hen Parties roaming the town looking for their next victim to slip a roofie too. We should all just go out in Las Vegas instead and slap some people for shits and giggles; Too soon?”
Finn yawned and the camera shuddered slightly.
“So we’ve got a fucking guy living in a time warp,” Frank started. “The cunt thinks he’s one of the Ancient fucking Greek Gods? This delusional prick actually thinks that he’s Ares, Greek fucking God of War? What the fuck has he been snorting? He thinks he’s the actual Ares so I would have fucking thought he’d have come to the fucking ring dressed in Greek Spartan armour but alas fucking no, this knob comes dressed as a fucking Native American? What the hell is going through this pricks head? He thinks he’s going to be Clashing with the fucking Titans or running around butt naked with two hundred and ninety nine other delusional wanker trying to stop the Persians? And yes, I took history when I was at fucking school bitches!”
He laughed at his own joke.
“He may be fucking talented in the squared circle but outside that circle jerk he’s a complete an utter fucking tosser,” he said. “The sad reality is that the fucking human race is devolving. It will be up to fucking science to right this sinking ship and correct the human race somehow and Ares is near the fucking head of the pack in the devolution fucking stakes. You know what, I’ve not got a single fuck to give about the tiny fingered shit gibbon Ignorant fuck puppet but I’ve got to talk about the wanker ain’t I? Oh should I go there?”
He reached into his pocket and found his designer sun glasses; even though it was pitch black outside he slipped them onto his face.
“Things are supposed to happen in threes as my gran used to fucking tell me,” he said. “When she was sitting on her porch back in Yorkshire, when I was watching all the local kids breaking into cars on her estate and she was pulling bits of chicken out of her false teeth she used to tell me her words of wisdom.”
Natalia smirked as Frank continued.
“Two of the three things have happened since I came back to professional wrestling so what was going to be the third thing I ask myself,” he said. “It could be anything. Maybe that fucking dream would come true, you know the fucking one we’ve all had; the one where we have that dream of going into work stark bollock naked. You know what I mean, walking down the fucking ramp way, the fucking junk flapping in the wind. Hopefully it’s not that. People couldn’t fucking handle the truth of that situation.”
He turned and looked at Natalia who was sat up straight behind him.
“Being the only undefeated goddamn LEGIT fucking champion in this promotion I should automatically be put in a fucking match that would showcase Anything Goes Wrestling as some kind of franchise match but what do I have to settle on, playing second fiddle to a title match for some two-bit fucking backyard wrestling promotion that should have fucking gone out of fucking business more times than there have been shitty boxing movies with Sylvester Stallone droning through,” Frank spat with bitterness. “Why is Jesse letting the legacy of this shit pit getting fucking tarnished with a shit match like the fucking cancer that it is? Who the fuck knows what goes through his fucking mind? Probably snorted way to much cocaine off of his brother’s fucking ass crack. Close family if you know what I’m fucking saying.”
Frank caressed the side of her face.
“How is it that Jackson Monroe’s fucking cowardice to defend the belt that he is ever so proud of fucking winning defending it at the pay per view against the fucking prick that I will be beating this week?” Frank asked. “What a fucking travesty of them. Does that bell end Jesse care about the fans or is he just taking the cock up the ass without lube just because he fucking can? Having a World Heavyweight Championship match as the main event with two pricks that don’t even fucking sell any fucking merchandise is just fucking awful. Is the title belt even around anymore or did Monroe fucking pawn it in to get some rent money or some coke for that habit of his. It is so obvious that he is when you see him tweaking out in the fucking ring.”
He turned back to the camera and smirked.
“I can see how that moron Ares is motivated to get that fucking strap. He probably got Enyo sat in some fucking backpack on his back while he motivates his charge to levitate some broken down jalopy with his brain farts,” he started in some Yoda-esque voice. “Try not Ares, Do Ares.”
Natalia shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly.
“What should be the fucking final match is Jerry Watts defending that strap that is ever so precious to him against someone from the promotion that deserves a shot at it; namely Frank fucking Windsor,” he said. “What? You think I wouldn’t fucking throw my name out as one of those that should automatically get that shot as I am the greatest fucking wrestling so far here in Anything Goes Wrestling but he’d probably fucking turn it down as being beat by the Frank fucking Windsor wouldn’t be a good way to showcase his championship reign with that belt of his. No, I’d hand the fucking punk his freaking ass as he ain’t Frank Windsor. He’s just a fucking cunt! Plain and fucking simple bitch.”
He turned and looked at his reflection from the glass of the drier’s door.
“Did you see what I fucking did last show?” Frank stated. “Did you see what happened between me and that bitch Lexxi? Did you see the utter goddamn devastation that we caused? We so stole that fucking show, not some two-bit backyard wrestler or his little sidekicks. When people were leaving the show in Las Vegas they were on a high talking about Frank fucking Windsor and then talking about the travesty of the Era of Lexxi winning the match.”
Frank picked up a box of washing powder up and turned it over in his hand with a look of disdain on his face.
“The only fucking person least popular in MY world at the moment than you Lexxi is that racist bigot that is the fucking President of the United States of fucking morons, Donald Trump,” Frank smirked. “What a slack jawed idiot who’s the bane to a tele-prompter after he flaps his gums about anything and everything that comes into his pea-brain, much like half of the roster in the locker room.”
He lifted his patented sunglasses up and put them on the top of his head.
“Anyway, enough talk about politics and how the fucking owner of this company has fucking rolled over for his belly to be scratched,” he said. “This fucking show will be all about someone namely Frank fucking Windsor, defeating some rat ass moron who thinks he’s a fucking Greek God in the shit pit called Las fucking Vegas. There is that old mantra about what happens in Vegas stays in fucking Vegas, fuck that as if you fucking fuck some fucking tart and your dick fucking falls off it doesn’t fucking suddenly reappear once you leave the fucking city. That’s just a lie plain and fucking simple.”
Frank walked to the door of the building and looked out at Las Vegas; the illumination of all the lights on the Strip were still turned on even though it was very late.
“How did the fucking kid Ares get a shot at the gold strap at Tension in Texas is fucking beyond me? Am I goddamn fucking tripping again?” he asked. “Not since the Bastards went on one of their little trips to Amsterdam have I felt like this. How can Ares get a real fucking legit shot at that title belt? Maybe it’s just the left over fucking Christmas spirit that has got to whoever booked this pay per view or maybe the whole fucking crate of Christmas spirit more fucking like. Maybe Santa’s Sack is all full and he wants to spread his presents all over us? I will have to punish the journeyman for crossing my path. Oh wait; it’s the start of fucking June so it cannot be that then.”
Frank turned abruptly and looked directly down the camera lens.
“When I was fucking researching you I noticed that you seemed to flit from promotion to fucking promotion like some kind of flea always on the cusp of greatness but never full fucking living up to the potential that the promotions owners saw in you but then running face first into a fucking brick wall or more likely the glass fucking ceiling when trying to make yourself as a household name,” Frank muttered. “You needed to make a fucking impact; to have some fucking balls but you need to believe in yourself first. Look at what I did when I arrived here in Anything Goes Wrestling, I made an impact when I came through those fucking curtains at the top of the fucking ramp way and have made the fucking company what it is today.”
He smirked as he sat back down next to Natalia.
“I do feel fucking sorry for you Ares, well no I don’t but I’ve been told that I should show a bit of fucking humility when it comes to the people in the lower echelon of the promotion that are stretching out of their comfort zone,” smirked Frank. “Yes Ares, namely you. It’s pathetic really how you’ve been thrown at me like some kind of fucking sacrificial lamb ready for the slaughter but do I really give a fuck how you feel.”
Frank looked into Natalia’s eyes before he slowly turned back to the camera.
“Did you see what I, Frank Windsor and my cohorts did in Las Vegas?” Frank asked. “Did you think that Lexxi’s pussy outshone Frank Windsor? Finn, Natalia and I destroy people’s fucking dreams. Witness! This is going to be a cluster fuck to top all cluster fucks. Look at what happened to Lexxi last show and I didn’t even want to win as it was more fun to embarrass that fucking bitch after he got in my path.”
He laughed really loud suddenly which made Natalia jump.
“I proved all those fuck-tards in front office wrong when I not only fucking stayed in this fucking company BUT I fucking thrived,” he said. “Anyway Ares, you may bring your best to the squared circle but it won’t fucking work kid for the Last Bastard is what this industry was made for.“
Frank seemed to be collecting his thoughts before he spat them out at the camera.
“Vengeance can never fucking balance out loss can it?” he said. “Nor can it bring the dead back to life. Is that not true for us all people? We blindly follow history, repeating the fucking mistakes of the past and recreate the same goddamn problems we try to avoid this time round; for nothing can be solved if we use the same fucking behaviours that caused the damn problem in the first place. Right? Try writing that shit on one of your sweat shop t-shirts Jesse, better than the Shakespeare shit you have on them already right?”
The camera inadvertedly moved down Frank’s body highlighting his new t-shirt. “Yorkshire Lives Fucking Matter” was prominent on the front of it.
“As it has been recently speculated I do go by many a moniker but as you can see by this t-shirt that I am modelling today,” he smirked as he straightened his t-shirt. “I may have been called the Special One, the Great One, even the Last Bastard but I have always earned those monikers because I am Frank Windsor and that’s the real fucking deal. I am what people want to fucking see, not some old crocks that haven’t read the memo.”
He turned and shrugged at Natalia who shrugged back at him.
“Are’s this is not just about you,” he laughed. “It’s not always about you. There are people that claw onto their place in the wrestling industry because they want to hold onto some kind of fucking life as their scared as they know nothing else. Most of the guys I grew up watching in sunny Bradford on the wrestling channel on Sky have moved onto better things. Nocturnal, XXX, Ryan Pugh, Roger Wright, Mike Park, Dave McDave, Deathstroke, Inkt……..all of these guys fucking realised when it was time for them to move over and let the next fucking generation have their time in the spotlight.”
Natalia nodded at these words about some classic wrestlers from Frank. They were some of the greatest in this sport of theirs but times move on.
“But I’m more of a man that Ares will ever fucking be,” he smirked. “Do I need someone to have my back? I am no longer part of the Bastards but those were different times as if probably sub-consciously needed Riot or that ass clown Fowler to back me up but I have evolved. I have fucking moved up; For I am Frank fucking Windsor.”
His eyes drilled into the camera lens.
“So Ares, does my use of fucking profanities shock your little ears?” Frank said. “Does my constant swearing insult you? Well I don’t give a flying fuck about your feelings you fucking wanker. That is who Frank Windsor is. I ain’t that circle jerker Lexxi or even Dane as I am Frank fucking Windsor. And if you can’t live with that I suggest you pull you bottom lip up over your head and swallow your fucking head. You don’t fucking mean anything to me, or any of the rest of Anything Goes Wrestling. You are like another cum stain on Jesse’s crusty boxers.”
Frank smirked and put his sunglasses back on even though it was still pitch black outside.
“Ares, I know you’ve been around this fucking wrestling industry for a while but you won’t get relevance by being in a fucking match in the squared circle with the Last Bastard. There is no fucking way I will let that happen,” he paused. “There is no way WE will let that happen. Never, ever!”
He looked at Natalia.
“Finn, I think that’s it for now,” Frank nodded. “I think I’ve got it out of system for now. That retard Ares will curse the owners for getting him involved in our business right?”
Finn yawned as he put down the camera. He looked outside and saw that the sun was coming up, “Ok now what? We’ve got a few hours to spare before we go and get some training in at the gym.”
“Oh it’s going to be fun,” Frank laughed. “So much fun.”
[
Frank sat in his hotel room the best that this town could provide which to be honest wasn’t much but as the owners of aGw were paying for he didn’t really care. The remote control was in his left hand, flipping through the channels on his television. He could not sleep, and he hadn’t been able to eat much since his match in the aGw. He’d been beaten by that man-chick Lexxi and it had left a bad taste in his mouth.
The Network had sent him a memo about his use of swearing on Anything Goes Wrestling shows be it in matches or lead up to ones. Frank was tempted just to take a pic of his ass on a photocopier and send that to them but they’d probably got a load of them from the aGw launch show party, especially when Jesse Styles was involved. Fuck them! Fuck them all!
Times were flying past quite quickly. It had been nearly a month since he had come back to the wrestling scene and had signed on with Anything Goes Wrestling and he was still the only undefeated champion within its ranks with his GCW World Heavyweight Championship.
So he sat on the couch and tried to focus on the television, but that did not work. Nothing on at this hour but old, bad movies, self-improvement infomercials, and re-runs of day time talk shows. He had just got back from a night out with his associates Natalia Santiago and Finn Corbyn.
A movie sounded good, in theory – something to draw him in and make him forget about the problems of facing against some loser on the next show. But there were only four on the air, and all four featured either Danny Dyer or Ewan Bremner, and that was just so wrong on so many levels, it made his head hurt.
He was here now, Anything Goes Wrestling; A wrestling superstar in his own rights and not just living in the shadow of the other members of the Bastards, Rob Riot and Billy Fowler. Look at what he had managed to do to Lexxi Starr last show, all on his own even though the ending didn’t go as planned. He didn’t need his old friends to save him all the time. Frank with his associates will put Anything Goes Wrestling out of business with their dastardly antics and dramatic actions.
He had unplugged his mobile phone because he did not want to talk to anyone for a while, but finally gave into it by turning it back on.
Finally, he clicked the television off in frustration. This is getting me nowhere. He went into the bed room, found his suitcase in the closet, and started unpacking his clothes. His GCW Heavyweight Championship belt was sat on the bedside table, he looked at it. A smile crossed his face. He was so going to enjoy pushing that belt until he decided he wanted to go for one of the belts of this company as he was fucking proud that he had got this belt.
Lexi Starr? What was this guy’s major malfunction other than if rumours were correct that he jerks off to Kaitlyn Jenner pictures? He had so much goddamn potential as a superstar in aGw people had said but always seems to come up short with the fans. This guy had managed to scrape himself an aGw Television Championship match at this show only because he had managed to fucking getting one over on the Last Bastard in the end. But aGw was at an all-time low because of him being one of its figureheads? How low can it get? Not much lower it seems. What a fucking bell end!
Frank was one of those types of people that could be a thorn in the side of wrestling industry but had always hidden behind his brothers in the Bastards. That was probably why Riot had fucking stabbed him in the back over the GCW thing. He was the Great One, he was the King of fucking Yorkshire, hell he was Frank Windsor……..Hey he’s unique. Yorkshire Lives Matter!
Anything Goes Wrestling was the place for him at the moment. He remembered watching its first show when it was a fledgling wrestling promotion in Las Vegas, when it was an Independent promotion; before it had the sweet, big-time television deal it does today, but was shown on regional television late at night. When it used to be stuck in that one place but now it travelled the country, literally.
Frank had been trained to wrestle in sunny Bradford. He remembered being a fourteen year old young boy watching some wrestler smacking the living shit out of some punk with a barbwire covered chair once.
Hard-core? Garbage-Style wrestling? That was a recipe for disaster. Why would he want to follow that path? He was Frank fucking Windsor; he could do anything he wanted. But he had grown to adapt his style. He could wrestle most ways and could as easily make them tap than bleed.
He was probably stressed about the task in hand; taking out this punk will be quite easy, what was his name? Oh yeah, Ares. But with the stuff with Natalia Santiago on his mind that probably was fucking with his head too.
Well, he needed a good night’s sleep.
His mobile phone beeped. He picked it up and saw it was a message from Natalia. It said that she wanted to meet him now. This meant that Frank had to go out in the rain. And he hated rain. That was the thing that he hated the most in this fucking country, it was pure evil weather as some parts of the country would be really sun and other cities snowing. But the text had said it was important.
Frank dialled a number on his phone and lifted it to his ear and awaited the answer. After a few second there was an answer.
“Frank?” came the voice from the other end. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Finn, it’s on,” he smiled a sinister smile. “Bring the fucking camera; I think I’ve got to get some mother fucking home truths off of my goddamn chest.”
“Really?” Finn asked. “Have you seen the time?”
“You’ve said that already tonight,” he said. “Now you’re fucking wasting time. Natalia wants to meet up so I think we can get some fucking stuff done at the same time.”
“At 3 in the morning?” Finn asked.
He looked around at the clock, “I said so didn’t I bro? Natalia will meet us down the road, so bring the fucking camera.”
“And you guys will take it from there right?” Finn said. “And I don’t want to be filming some shit for Pornhub? Some of the shit on there is so freaky; so a friend says.”
“Yes. I need to fucking get ready for my match at the Pay per View but this week needs to take priority,” Frank realised he had said the wrong thing as it came out of his mouth.
“Priority?” Finn asked. “What have you got planned?”
“Nothing Finn I’m just fucking talking out aloud,” he said. “I need to sort stuff out for my pay per view match but this thing with Ares needs to work out first. Plus some bitch in the hotel room next door is keeping me awake, singing Britney Spear’s songs. And to be honest I’ve never heard such a fucking awful something that bad.”
Finn laughed on the other end of the phone. “Isn’t that the hotel room with saw Dane go into the other night?”
“Enough, Finn,” he said. “Meet me there in about half an hour.”
He hung up the phone on Finn. Frank pulled on a coat and exited the hotel room for his meeting with Natalia.
His journey to their rendezvous place was uneventful.
The 24 hour Laundromat was situated near by to a busy intersection. It’s a small building, fronted by a synthetic white spray rock façade. The sign identifying it was plastic and backlit, with a number of wire spikes running along the top as a deterrent for roosting pigeons.
Inside, under flickering fluorescent lights, two banks of chipped, outdated, oversized laundry machines rumble and grind, saturating the place with perpetual white noise. The hum and click of the lights seem to bounce off every wall and machine, boring into the very soul. The floor was covered in cracked, patterned vinyl meant to look like tiling, and the walls were painted a cheap, relatively inoffensive green. A single clock on the wall marks time and advertises a popular soap brand. A machine at the back dispensed detergent and fabric softener, and two hard wooden benches provided seating for customers.
There was a small box of lost and discarded items next to one of the machine banks, filled with random cloth items; mismatched socks, a pair of shorts, a child’s t-shirt. Signs warned customers not to abuse or misuse the machines were posted along the walls.
Two figures sat upon these benches. The first was none other than Natalia Santiago; she was playing with her phone whilst the machines were humming. The other was none other than Frank Windsor, he was reading a magazine.
Natalia slowly turned towards Frank looking at him for a few seconds.
“So?” asked Frank.
Natalia smirked, “What?”
“I know you want to ask me something,” Frank said. ”Otherwise we wouldn’t be here at 3 in the morning.”
Natalia shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, you trying to read my mind?”
“Who’s that?” Frank said.
“What? Oh on the phone. It was a message from Finn,” she said. ”he’s on his way but is running at bit late, something about trying to get room service at this time of night.”
Frank laughed, “Him and his fucking coffee.”
Natalia ground her teeth together and clenched one of her fists. “So are you ready for you match with Ares? I watched the punk a few weeks ago. He’s not too shabby but is quite erratic. He won’t stand up to someone of your calibre.”
Frank nodded as he put down the magazine and moved closer to Natalia, “I know, but something in my waters thinks that he’s up to something. I don’t trust the little bastard. Part of me thinks that he is up to something, don’t you fucking think so? That is one of the reasons I needed you with me.”
“I know Frank and I appreciate it and I know you’ve got plans. It’s all in hand I know. This week the roster of aGw will feel the full wrath of Frank Windsor, even without the Bastards to back you up you are the man. You took it to RSW and GCW before and by choosing the weakest link in the roster and taking it out. And then working your way through each and every one of them it’ll put you back on the radar. aGw won’t know what’s hit it.”
Frank laughed and the sound was harsh and sharp, like black, broken glass floating on the night wind.
Natalia looked directly into Frank’s eyes, “Oh? Eventually I will get a contract and wrestle in the ring but until then……….” A corner of her mouth lifted in a contemptuous smile. “………But that can’t protect them all the time.”
Frank laughed and goes for the yawn and hug combination but Natalia spotted what he was doing and moved.
“Don’t even think of that. I’m not falling for that move,” she proclaimed. “Nothing is going to happen until after the pay per view as I don’t want to mix business and pleasure. But come to think of it Frank, you’d probably be turned on by the beating I’d give you in a match right? Don’t lie to me?”
Frank shrugged and a smile crossed his lips, “Maybe a little fucking bit but I can’t promise that you wouldn’t be either. And we could start making out during a match?”
“Bet you say that to ev…………..” she said.
Frank cut her off mid-sentence, “No, not that Mexican slapper Valora or that EMO bitch Rivers.”
“Didn’t say Jesse though?” she teased. “Is there a little man crush there?”
Frank laughed out loud, “Oh Nat. Come on honey, Do I look like the sort of guy that has a man crush? I don’t fucking think so. And if I did it wouldn’t be some two-bit loser freak like fucking Jesse Styles. Have you seen me? I have a big Gay following. Look at these buttocks? These are great fucking buttocks.”
“You’re safe for now honey,” Natalia said.
“Safe? This is wrestling not football. I ain’t Gazza. I have to keep an eye in my corner too as Finn learnt everything from me and like the Sith, the only way to surpass the master is for the student to take out the master,” laughed Frank. “Yes I fucking referenced Star Wars.”
Natalia’s phone beeped once again. She looked at it. “Seems as the first part of my plan is coming into fruition.”
“Oh? What you got planned?” Frank asked.
Natalia tilted her head as she considered the question, then raised her hands to eye level and studied them.
“Nothing that needs to concern you Frank,” she said. “But it will all play out soon.”
“Really?” Frank asked. “Need I be fucking worried?”
Natalia held up her hand, then put a finger to one cheek and tilted her head coquettishly. “Oh it’s all in hand.”
As she said this a tired looking Finn Corbyn entered the building.
“Finn?” Frank said. “What the fuck kept you?”
Finn brought up the camera. “Let’s get this done; you woke me up from a dream with me and the members of the Spice Girls. Well, the good looking ones. Not the moose one with the ginger hair. Nobody likes a ginger. They have no souls!”
Frank smirked and looked into the camera.
“So we are back the aGw arena for this weeks show; back in not so sunny fucking Las Vegas at the moment,” Frank said. “I remember coming to this place with my mates on our jolly’s during the summer months just for the beer and wenches. Well the beer mostly. Have you seen them? Most fucking look like Tom Selleck with breasts. With the utter destruction that the virus is doing here at the moment I was utterly surprised that we’d actually have a show again in that cesspit. Then I realised with Tension in Texas around the corner Jesse needs to be near his own neck of the wood and sod everyone else with their travel plans. Las Vegas has actually been called the fucking Blackpool of the fucking United States. Have they not been to Blackpool before? Did you not see the turds floating in the sea? Or why is Blackpool actually so orange? Probably because of all those Scouse Hen Parties roaming the town looking for their next victim to slip a roofie too. We should all just go out in Las Vegas instead and slap some people for shits and giggles; Too soon?”
Finn yawned and the camera shuddered slightly.
“So we’ve got a fucking guy living in a time warp,” Frank started. “The cunt thinks he’s one of the Ancient fucking Greek Gods? This delusional prick actually thinks that he’s Ares, Greek fucking God of War? What the fuck has he been snorting? He thinks he’s the actual Ares so I would have fucking thought he’d have come to the fucking ring dressed in Greek Spartan armour but alas fucking no, this knob comes dressed as a fucking Native American? What the hell is going through this pricks head? He thinks he’s going to be Clashing with the fucking Titans or running around butt naked with two hundred and ninety nine other delusional wanker trying to stop the Persians? And yes, I took history when I was at fucking school bitches!”
He laughed at his own joke.
“He may be fucking talented in the squared circle but outside that circle jerk he’s a complete an utter fucking tosser,” he said. “The sad reality is that the fucking human race is devolving. It will be up to fucking science to right this sinking ship and correct the human race somehow and Ares is near the fucking head of the pack in the devolution fucking stakes. You know what, I’ve not got a single fuck to give about the tiny fingered shit gibbon Ignorant fuck puppet but I’ve got to talk about the wanker ain’t I? Oh should I go there?”
He reached into his pocket and found his designer sun glasses; even though it was pitch black outside he slipped them onto his face.
“Things are supposed to happen in threes as my gran used to fucking tell me,” he said. “When she was sitting on her porch back in Yorkshire, when I was watching all the local kids breaking into cars on her estate and she was pulling bits of chicken out of her false teeth she used to tell me her words of wisdom.”
Natalia smirked as Frank continued.
“Two of the three things have happened since I came back to professional wrestling so what was going to be the third thing I ask myself,” he said. “It could be anything. Maybe that fucking dream would come true, you know the fucking one we’ve all had; the one where we have that dream of going into work stark bollock naked. You know what I mean, walking down the fucking ramp way, the fucking junk flapping in the wind. Hopefully it’s not that. People couldn’t fucking handle the truth of that situation.”
He turned and looked at Natalia who was sat up straight behind him.
“Being the only undefeated goddamn LEGIT fucking champion in this promotion I should automatically be put in a fucking match that would showcase Anything Goes Wrestling as some kind of franchise match but what do I have to settle on, playing second fiddle to a title match for some two-bit fucking backyard wrestling promotion that should have fucking gone out of fucking business more times than there have been shitty boxing movies with Sylvester Stallone droning through,” Frank spat with bitterness. “Why is Jesse letting the legacy of this shit pit getting fucking tarnished with a shit match like the fucking cancer that it is? Who the fuck knows what goes through his fucking mind? Probably snorted way to much cocaine off of his brother’s fucking ass crack. Close family if you know what I’m fucking saying.”
Frank caressed the side of her face.
“How is it that Jackson Monroe’s fucking cowardice to defend the belt that he is ever so proud of fucking winning defending it at the pay per view against the fucking prick that I will be beating this week?” Frank asked. “What a fucking travesty of them. Does that bell end Jesse care about the fans or is he just taking the cock up the ass without lube just because he fucking can? Having a World Heavyweight Championship match as the main event with two pricks that don’t even fucking sell any fucking merchandise is just fucking awful. Is the title belt even around anymore or did Monroe fucking pawn it in to get some rent money or some coke for that habit of his. It is so obvious that he is when you see him tweaking out in the fucking ring.”
He turned back to the camera and smirked.
“I can see how that moron Ares is motivated to get that fucking strap. He probably got Enyo sat in some fucking backpack on his back while he motivates his charge to levitate some broken down jalopy with his brain farts,” he started in some Yoda-esque voice. “Try not Ares, Do Ares.”
Natalia shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly.
“What should be the fucking final match is Jerry Watts defending that strap that is ever so precious to him against someone from the promotion that deserves a shot at it; namely Frank fucking Windsor,” he said. “What? You think I wouldn’t fucking throw my name out as one of those that should automatically get that shot as I am the greatest fucking wrestling so far here in Anything Goes Wrestling but he’d probably fucking turn it down as being beat by the Frank fucking Windsor wouldn’t be a good way to showcase his championship reign with that belt of his. No, I’d hand the fucking punk his freaking ass as he ain’t Frank Windsor. He’s just a fucking cunt! Plain and fucking simple bitch.”
He turned and looked at his reflection from the glass of the drier’s door.
“Did you see what I fucking did last show?” Frank stated. “Did you see what happened between me and that bitch Lexxi? Did you see the utter goddamn devastation that we caused? We so stole that fucking show, not some two-bit backyard wrestler or his little sidekicks. When people were leaving the show in Las Vegas they were on a high talking about Frank fucking Windsor and then talking about the travesty of the Era of Lexxi winning the match.”
Frank picked up a box of washing powder up and turned it over in his hand with a look of disdain on his face.
“The only fucking person least popular in MY world at the moment than you Lexxi is that racist bigot that is the fucking President of the United States of fucking morons, Donald Trump,” Frank smirked. “What a slack jawed idiot who’s the bane to a tele-prompter after he flaps his gums about anything and everything that comes into his pea-brain, much like half of the roster in the locker room.”
He lifted his patented sunglasses up and put them on the top of his head.
“Anyway, enough talk about politics and how the fucking owner of this company has fucking rolled over for his belly to be scratched,” he said. “This fucking show will be all about someone namely Frank fucking Windsor, defeating some rat ass moron who thinks he’s a fucking Greek God in the shit pit called Las fucking Vegas. There is that old mantra about what happens in Vegas stays in fucking Vegas, fuck that as if you fucking fuck some fucking tart and your dick fucking falls off it doesn’t fucking suddenly reappear once you leave the fucking city. That’s just a lie plain and fucking simple.”
Frank walked to the door of the building and looked out at Las Vegas; the illumination of all the lights on the Strip were still turned on even though it was very late.
“How did the fucking kid Ares get a shot at the gold strap at Tension in Texas is fucking beyond me? Am I goddamn fucking tripping again?” he asked. “Not since the Bastards went on one of their little trips to Amsterdam have I felt like this. How can Ares get a real fucking legit shot at that title belt? Maybe it’s just the left over fucking Christmas spirit that has got to whoever booked this pay per view or maybe the whole fucking crate of Christmas spirit more fucking like. Maybe Santa’s Sack is all full and he wants to spread his presents all over us? I will have to punish the journeyman for crossing my path. Oh wait; it’s the start of fucking June so it cannot be that then.”
Frank turned abruptly and looked directly down the camera lens.
“When I was fucking researching you I noticed that you seemed to flit from promotion to fucking promotion like some kind of flea always on the cusp of greatness but never full fucking living up to the potential that the promotions owners saw in you but then running face first into a fucking brick wall or more likely the glass fucking ceiling when trying to make yourself as a household name,” Frank muttered. “You needed to make a fucking impact; to have some fucking balls but you need to believe in yourself first. Look at what I did when I arrived here in Anything Goes Wrestling, I made an impact when I came through those fucking curtains at the top of the fucking ramp way and have made the fucking company what it is today.”
He smirked as he sat back down next to Natalia.
“I do feel fucking sorry for you Ares, well no I don’t but I’ve been told that I should show a bit of fucking humility when it comes to the people in the lower echelon of the promotion that are stretching out of their comfort zone,” smirked Frank. “Yes Ares, namely you. It’s pathetic really how you’ve been thrown at me like some kind of fucking sacrificial lamb ready for the slaughter but do I really give a fuck how you feel.”
Frank looked into Natalia’s eyes before he slowly turned back to the camera.
“Did you see what I, Frank Windsor and my cohorts did in Las Vegas?” Frank asked. “Did you think that Lexxi’s pussy outshone Frank Windsor? Finn, Natalia and I destroy people’s fucking dreams. Witness! This is going to be a cluster fuck to top all cluster fucks. Look at what happened to Lexxi last show and I didn’t even want to win as it was more fun to embarrass that fucking bitch after he got in my path.”
He laughed really loud suddenly which made Natalia jump.
“I proved all those fuck-tards in front office wrong when I not only fucking stayed in this fucking company BUT I fucking thrived,” he said. “Anyway Ares, you may bring your best to the squared circle but it won’t fucking work kid for the Last Bastard is what this industry was made for.“
Frank seemed to be collecting his thoughts before he spat them out at the camera.
“Vengeance can never fucking balance out loss can it?” he said. “Nor can it bring the dead back to life. Is that not true for us all people? We blindly follow history, repeating the fucking mistakes of the past and recreate the same goddamn problems we try to avoid this time round; for nothing can be solved if we use the same fucking behaviours that caused the damn problem in the first place. Right? Try writing that shit on one of your sweat shop t-shirts Jesse, better than the Shakespeare shit you have on them already right?”
The camera inadvertedly moved down Frank’s body highlighting his new t-shirt. “Yorkshire Lives Fucking Matter” was prominent on the front of it.
“As it has been recently speculated I do go by many a moniker but as you can see by this t-shirt that I am modelling today,” he smirked as he straightened his t-shirt. “I may have been called the Special One, the Great One, even the Last Bastard but I have always earned those monikers because I am Frank Windsor and that’s the real fucking deal. I am what people want to fucking see, not some old crocks that haven’t read the memo.”
He turned and shrugged at Natalia who shrugged back at him.
“Are’s this is not just about you,” he laughed. “It’s not always about you. There are people that claw onto their place in the wrestling industry because they want to hold onto some kind of fucking life as their scared as they know nothing else. Most of the guys I grew up watching in sunny Bradford on the wrestling channel on Sky have moved onto better things. Nocturnal, XXX, Ryan Pugh, Roger Wright, Mike Park, Dave McDave, Deathstroke, Inkt……..all of these guys fucking realised when it was time for them to move over and let the next fucking generation have their time in the spotlight.”
Natalia nodded at these words about some classic wrestlers from Frank. They were some of the greatest in this sport of theirs but times move on.
“But I’m more of a man that Ares will ever fucking be,” he smirked. “Do I need someone to have my back? I am no longer part of the Bastards but those were different times as if probably sub-consciously needed Riot or that ass clown Fowler to back me up but I have evolved. I have fucking moved up; For I am Frank fucking Windsor.”
His eyes drilled into the camera lens.
“So Ares, does my use of fucking profanities shock your little ears?” Frank said. “Does my constant swearing insult you? Well I don’t give a flying fuck about your feelings you fucking wanker. That is who Frank Windsor is. I ain’t that circle jerker Lexxi or even Dane as I am Frank fucking Windsor. And if you can’t live with that I suggest you pull you bottom lip up over your head and swallow your fucking head. You don’t fucking mean anything to me, or any of the rest of Anything Goes Wrestling. You are like another cum stain on Jesse’s crusty boxers.”
Frank smirked and put his sunglasses back on even though it was still pitch black outside.
“Ares, I know you’ve been around this fucking wrestling industry for a while but you won’t get relevance by being in a fucking match in the squared circle with the Last Bastard. There is no fucking way I will let that happen,” he paused. “There is no way WE will let that happen. Never, ever!”
He looked at Natalia.
“Finn, I think that’s it for now,” Frank nodded. “I think I’ve got it out of system for now. That retard Ares will curse the owners for getting him involved in our business right?”
Finn yawned as he put down the camera. He looked outside and saw that the sun was coming up, “Ok now what? We’ve got a few hours to spare before we go and get some training in at the gym.”
“Oh it’s going to be fun,” Frank laughed. “So much fun.”