Post by Ryan Keys on Sept 7, 2017 18:51:05 GMT -5
The Golden Coast Casino
August 30th, 2017
[Off Camera]
“19” the casino dealer announces as he flips over a card, revealing a king of club. He adds it to the already showing nine of hearts in front of Ryan.
Ryan mindlessly draws circles with his wrist, swirling the ice cubes around in his tumbler of whiskey. He slightly bites down on his bottom lip and furrows his brow, as He pretends to study the cards on the table for a moment or two.
In all actuality, Ryan doesn’t even need to give the cards a second glance. He knows exactly what’s going to happen. Chalk it up to years of refining his skills in his home state. Game after game. Casino after casino. There simply isn’t a blackjack table from Vegas to Atlantic City that Ryan hasn’t owned at one point or another.
It isn’t card counting. No, that would be too easy to detect. And besides, Ryan doesn’t need to resort to the standard tricks of the trade. Not when he has his own set of skills. Some say there’s inherited, though he won’t believe it. Of course, it’s not 100% percent accurate. Nothing in life, as Ryan has painfully come to learn, is. But through hours and hours of migraine-inducing practice, he can show off some incredible skill.
Ryan lets out an elongated sigh and runs his hands through his slicked back, short, choppy locks, taking the extra precaution not to get his bulky silver rings stuck as he does. He then looks up at the dealer and with an ever so slight hesitation, taps his fingers on top of his cards.
The dealer reads the signal with a mild sense of shock. “You sure?”
Ryan nods and takes a long sip of his whiskey. “As I’ll ever be.”
With those words, the dealer flips over another card, revealing the two of spades. “Blackjack.”
A small, but noticeable smirk crawls across Ryan’s lips as He gives the signal to hold. He doesn’t need to see the dealer’s hand. Ryan already knows He’s won.
The dealer proceeds to flip over his second card, five of hearts. “Five of hearts. Dealer has 17.”
Ryan takes a moment, as the dealer counts out a neat stack of $100 chips, to re-adjust his sleeves of his black leather motorcycle jacket.
He grabs a random chip off of the vast pile before his and begins to dance it between his fingers. Back and forth and back again.
One more hand. Just one more before the shift change.
Ryan closes his eyes for a brief moment and downs the rest of his whiskey with one, hard swig. It burns its way down the back of his throat, dulling the array of emotions bubbling just beneath the surface.
Just one more hand before He’ll come face to face with--
CLAP.
Ryan’s eyes pop back open at the all too familiar sound of the dealer clearing his hands. He’s miscalculated. There isn’t one more hand after all.
A wave of panic washes over Ryan as his hand subconsciously reaches upwards and grabs hold of something buried just beneath the collar of his grey v-neck shirt.
“Sir, it’s been a pleasure and I hope your luck continues with my colleague,” the dealer says with a warm smile.
“Thanks,” Ryan manages to reply as He mentally pushes his internal panic back on down and replaces it once again with his cold, almost emotionless, facade.
“Drinks?”
Ryan whips around in his seat, back momentarily facing the table, just in time to catch the waitress as she passes on by. “Bulleit on the rocks.”
“Sure thing, Honey,” the waitress responses, writing down Ryan’s order.
Ryan drops a $25 chip onto the waitress’ tray and then, “Actually, make it a double.”
“You’ve got it.” The waitress scurries off, back into the sea of gamblers, making sure to pocket the chip as she does.
Ryan knows he shouldn’t be throwing his money around like that. Especially given that he’s on borrowed time. But still, old habits die hard, and he also knows that if he doesn’t tip well, then he’ll most likely end up getting served a crappy ass whiskey instead and he can’t afford to have a hangover. Not with what he needs to do.
“Straight up whiskey on the rocks. Pretty boy,” an all too familiar voice calls out from behind Ryan with a slight tone of hatred that signifies one thing and one thing only… that voice is blissfully aware of who he is.
Ryan takes a deep breath, runs his hands again through his hair in a half-ass attempt to smooth down the loose strands, and then with all the confidence he can muster, turns back around.
And suddenly, time stands still.
There, on the other side of the table is the man he’s hated the most all these years. A man that has haunted his dreams for the worst part of that last eight years. The one that took it all away from Ryan forever, all because of greed.
To say that time has been kind to to the older man, is a vast understatement. No, it’s been beyond kind. Ryan hates that he looks so much like him.
Damien’s shares a striking resemblance to him. Same facial structure,same dark brown hair, same striking blue eyes, that same rugged handsomeness Ryan has. A strong jawline while being well built for his age. But there is a noticeable difference. Ryan only has the eyes of a killer, this man really is one.
A singular and jarring thought flashes across Ryan’s mind as his eyes finally move upwards to meet Damien’s piercing blue eyes. Forty five years of knowing this man still makes him look like a stranger.
The deviant smile instantly drops off of Damien’s face as his face flashes different emotions for an instant. Surprise… Sadness… Anger… and then, settling in on nothing. Just a hard, cold stare, devoid of any emotion whatsoever.
“It’s been awhile.” Ryan quietly whispers, breaking the silence between the two of them.
But Damien doesn’t respond. He goes about setting up the cards and stacks of chips as if Ryan’s just another stranger looking to play a hand or two of blackjack. “Place your bet.”
Ryan places a large stack of $100 chips down in the designated circle without even taking a moment to double check just how much he’s betting. It’s an impulsive move. He’s know it, but yet can’t seem to help himself. It’s not about the bet. Not this time.
“That’s it?” Damien scoffs with a subtle hint of sarcasm to his voice. “Not gonna go all in? You know you owe me.”
Ryan looks up, locks eyes with Damien once again, and then, unceremoniously slides the rest of his chips forward.
“Here you go, Sweetheart,”the waitress announces as she places Ryan’s glass of whiskey down in front of his.
“Thanks.” Ryan picks up the glass and takes a much needed sip, letting the whiskey burn its way down his throat as Damien deals out the cards.
“Imbecíl,” Damien mutters in Spanish under his breath as he flips over his hidden card revealing a five of hearts. “Dealer has 15.”
Damien draws another card and turns it over. Six of clubs. Blackjack. “21. Dealer wins.”
Another moment of silence falls between the two of them as Damian starts taking Ryan’s chips. Then--
“Da...”
Damien looks up from the stacks of chips with a flash of anger in his eyes. “I told you not to come back in here without what you owe me. But I guess you’re still as worthless as ever,huh, Jason.”
Worthless. An icy cold chill runs down Ryan’s spine at the sound of his real name. It feels foreign and yet it’s the truth. He’s almost forgotten it.
“We're done here. Table’s closed.”
But Ryan doesn’t respond. He’s still shaken from the man’s words that he fails to register him leaving the table. Regardless of how much his impulsive side wanted to haul the man back, Ryan just left shaking in anger.
He can’t hold on to his emotions, he needs to beat it out of himself… better yet. Someone else. With bitterness in his eyes, Ryan stands up and proceeds to leave the table and exit the casino. It was a mistake coming back, and now he has to resort to going back to the one place he could blow off some steam.
For years, the wrestling world has witnessed greatness, brilliance and countless hours of physical advancements... .. .. and then we have Ryan.
"Guess who's back? Back again..."
"I'm a fighter"
Sweat box underground arena
Las Vegas, Nevada
[On Camera]
Ryan Keys is a run down, grimy looking locker room. There is an unsettling roar coming from every direction, forcing their way through the crooked walls. It’s a loud crowd cheering for some poor bastards fighting for money that won't even cover their damages. Ryan is at the old Sweatbox fighting arena he came from before wrestling. Once again dwelling in his roots as an illegal fighter. The broken tube lighting above him flickered as he gets himself ready.
“It’s time for me to fight like I mean it, like I actually give a damn. This time I’m not about showing off and looking flashy, no. I’ll leave that for when I have the West Coast title belt around my waist, something that’s really worth showing off.”
He’s wrapping up his hands and wrists with white tape as he gets ready. There’s a rugged look to Ryan. A five o'clock shadow, a menacing look to his cold eyes, and the broadness of his body being highlighted by sweat. He has the look of a dangerous man.
“Violence is something I’m capable of, and I’m pretty damn good at it. It’s how I survived, how I used to live, it’s what earned me enough not to be living at some random alley here in Vegas. Fighting is what I craves at one point, and I’m sensing that need again. No holding back, no fairness, no bullshit gimmicks changing the name of the game. On Hype five it’s all about two people stepping inside the ring going into a fight. One will win, one will lose, and nothing else will matter to many. I’m here to tell you that I will be the one to win, because the other option is not acceptable. I have a score to settle, I have an unlucky streak to break and at the next show is where I can finally get something to go my way. “
He chuckles to himself before having a sly grin on his dirty face. Ryan holds up two fingers while looking dead straight at the camera as his face looks determined, pissed and ready for a fight as the volume of the crowd in the arena gets even louder. Waiting for the shouts to die down, he loosens his neck and hops in place to keep himself pumped.
“A whole month has passed and not much seems to have changed. Julianna is feeling self righteous about herself, that’s not new, Unscripted came around and took people by surprise, and we even had a road show. Wins and loses happened yet my focus has been fully on my recovery. I got my reasons for my endless amount of training and that’s simple to understand. I wanna win. And Julianna is once again in my way. It’s not about if I like her or not, cause at the end of the day if I don’t win I won’t matter enough to even look at twice. And that doesn’t sit right with me. I’m not here in WCG to lose and be called it’s laziest champion.. That is NOT the title I came here to get. There’s only one title on my mind right now, and it’s as good as mine on on Hype.”
He looks like he's fuming along with an impatient feel to Ryan as he paces back and forth, slicking his mid-brown hair back. Ryan’s hands are shaking, yet he doesn’t let that show often before he exhales and places his hands on his hips. Uncontrollably, his fingers scratch at the hem of his black compression shorts hugging his toned thighs Ryan’s been working on.
“Unscripted was… interesting. I’m still continuing my search for answers and that fabled script. Though it was unlucky that Izzy didn’t seem to have it. But like always I manage to make a record for myself and beat her undefeated streak. Still, I walked away with something else as well. Fighting against Izzy made me realize how fun a match could be. Just me, the crowd and my opponent, all coming together to paint a fantastic show. No twitter bs, no fictional wars, just a good old fashioned match between two good wrestlers. That raised my spirits a bit more, and on my road to recovery I started to hype myself up for Hype. Then the roadshow happened, Bily got one over on me. All that just allowed me to realize how far my recovery has come, and now I feel ready. I’m more determined than ever to fight my next battle. I have a rematch, not a match that I asked for, I would have been more than happy to climb my way back up to be a contender, and trust me… I would. But I can’t argue with the boss's decision, so it’s once against Julianna and me. One more time to settle things. And you better believe that I won’t stop until the fighting is done.”
He nods. There’s a smirk on his face as he raises one finger this time. An even more crazed look comes to his face while thinking about this next one. Keeping his short fuse anger in check, Ryan breathes in deep while trying to muster up the words to say with a bitter look to his face.
“And so, here we are again Julianna…. Hello again... look, my arm is all well and right, thanks for asking. You gave me something to work on, and I’ve remembered it every night. And while you were off throwing yourself a victory party, I’ve been recovering. It didn’t take so long, but I’m finally ready to face you. But i am disappointed in something. You pride yourself as a champion,but you’re still relying on your cheap trick to get the win. But it’s the win that matters to you, right? All that talk about being the champion this company deserves was just that, talk. Because at the end of the day all you care about is keeping your claws around that title. Not that it’s gonna metter much. So go ahead, use the ropes as an aid, get yourself a count out, rake at my eyes, hit me in the dick, tug on my trunks, hell take them off for me while you’re at it. I won’t mind. At the end of the day those tricks will stop working for you, and then what? You already lost the respect of half the roster, even before you took down what was “dragging” WCG down. No matter what, I only need three seconds to beat you, that’s not a lot of time to pull something out of your…. Hat. Even if you do manage to beat me I’m still coming back up, I’m not below you as a fighter. You beat me and give me…. Let’s say a few shows and I’ll be right at your level again, EASY.”
Ryan emphasizes that last word before a spike on his temper flared. With a deep grunt, his hand changes to a fist that slams against the side of a locket. It’s metallic sound echoes loudly in the beaten down locker room as it’s closed doors opens. He hitches a breath before calming down.
“Even if it takes me MONTHS to get back up I do it. You wanna know why? Because I’m determined to be here. I didn’t just wanted my way to the ring, I worked hard to prove that I can fight. To prove that I’m not WORTHLESS!”
Ryan is a bit heartfelt and taken back by his last words before shaking them off. He removes his fist from the locks and wipes his face for a moment. It’s a side he’s never shown before and it’s all coming out now that he’s in a place that makes him remember about his past.
“I have a worth to prove, and there is not a thing that’s gonna stop me. Call me WCG’s laziest champion if you want, but I know what people will eventually call me. And that a champion. Specifically the first ever two time West Coast champion pass this next show. I know your weakness, Julianna. You hurt me, and now it’s time I repay the favor There’s blood in the water and I can sure as hell can smell it. I just need three seconds, that’s all it takes. I’ll prove that I can beat you, just you watch.”
He relaxes as the announcer's voice on the overhead speaker blares off in the distance announcing the next match. It’s finally time for Ryan to blow off some steam.
“My battles are won in the ring, People. All this is just talk for some hype. But Julianna knows that I push her to her limits, that I’m not just all bark and no bite. After all, barking is the least that I do. Because when I’m in the ring my fighting side gets triggered, and there's only one way to get it all out. You may think that I was unfit to represent the company, that I’m just lazy, and that’s fine.”
Ryan shrugs once more while rolling his shoulders a bit. From his bag, he pulls out a cross before going silent for a moment.
“Call me whatever you want… truth is.”
His name gets called on the speaker, having him close his eyes for a brief moment before they open, gazing straight at the camera.
“I’m just a fighter.”