"I really don't know what to do, dad. They fired me." Tyson and his father sat in the dirt next to a long, narrow stream. Sykes' short hair tumbles slightly in the breeze as he wipes the bait dirt onto his cargo shorts. Next to him his father sits, stringing up his bobber, not answering nor making eye contact with his son, just nodding in thought. There's a pause as he finishes up rigging his line before expertly casting it. The whirling of the reel followed by the plop of the bait hitting the water was enough to break the silence as the older man takes a deep breath.
"So you got fired. You said it yourself Tyson, that job wasn't your passion. It's what you always felt like you needed to do, not what you wanted to do." Tyson didn't let him finish and interrupted quickly.
"I know dad, it's just I always got these urges and -" This time his dad interrupted just as quick.
"Ayup, you get violent urges. You know what that's called? Gettin' angry. I get angry, but you don't see me joining a police force to legally beat people up. You don't need your work to revolve around your feeling Tyson - you need to find an outlet, and an outlet that you enjoy. Do you think I'm fuckin' counting the seconds until I can hop in my van to deliver more letters? Nope. But it pays well, and the driving gives me time to think. Plus that's why I fish, and why I golf. You can't be miserable 24/7 and expect beating people up at work to make it better. You have to put in the effort, and you have to be realistic. So you got fired from a job - guess what. It's just a job, and you might get fired from another one, and another one, and another one - but eventually, even if you don't find the perfect job, you'll find something that you enjoy. Then, you'll find things outside of work that make you happy. Only when that happens will things start making sence in that fucked up head of yours." The two share a chuckle, and Tyson doesn't answer, just nods knowing his father was correct, and the two go back to fishing.
Later, on his way home, just as it's about to get dark - a dog ran aimlessly into the street, and Tyson was able to stop just in time but not without the dog running head first into the car tire. Sykes panicked and threw the dog into his car, an older looking bulldog with no tags or collar, that looked to have been outside fighting the elements for a while. Sykes rushed the dog to an emergency vet to make sure it was okay, and after an hour or so a short blonde woman came walking the dog out to the waiting room. Sykes went to to speak, but she spoke first.
"It's a good thing you got the guy in when you did - the bump with the tired didn't do anything but he's clearly been without food or water for a few days, possibly a week. We got him back up and hydrated, but it'll probably take him a few days to get back on his feet. I know you said he's a stray, are you taking him to the shelter?" Sykes shook his head.
"Fuck no -... Sorry... No, I'm thinking I'll keep an eye on him at least until I know he's alright. He is going to be alright, isn't he?" The two locked eyes as the woman revealed a soft, kind smile.
"Yes. Get him fed, warm, and make sure he drinks plenty of water and he'll be more than okay." Sykes let their gaze linger before it was interrupted by the dog gently licking his hand. Sykes gave him a firm pet, the small animal being the first creature other than Tyson's dad to show him love in as long as he could remember, and Sykes flashed back to what his dad said. Put in the effort. Find things that make you happy. And things will start making sense. Tyson bent down and gave the dog a kiss on its wrinkled head before looking up at the woman once more.
"Thank you so much again, I really appreciate you all taking a look at him."
"Of course, it was -, it was my pleasure." She says with a nod before looking to turn away. Tyson stood up quickly, and awkwardly.
"I'm Tyson by the way. I'm, I'm sure I'll need to bring him back by to check in with you all again. You know.... make sure he's healing up okay." The woman turned and flashed the smile again, shaking Sykes hand.
"Yes, absolutely. Give it a week and check back in, I work 6 days a week so feel free to ask for me, since I'll have his file. And it was nice to meet you Tyson, I'm Kayla. I'll see you around." She let go of Tyson's hand and ran hers across the head of the chubby bulldog before disappearing into a back office. Sykes stared for a moment at the door she vanished behind, the words of his father once more echoing in his head before something happened that didn't usually happen to Tyson - he cracked a genuine smile. Looking down he gave the bulldog one more kiss on the head.
"C'mon boy. Let's get you some dinner." As they walked out, Tyson looked down at his new best friend. "So, you like fishin' big guy?"
Darkness. Silence fills the empty scene, only the ambient buzzing of an old recorder can be heard in the background, and the occasional static crackling of wind hitting the recording source. Then, a deep inhale by an unseen source, followed by a small chuckle. "I guess I got your attention now, huh PWS?"
The camera is turned on, but the darkness isn't completely gone. We see Tyson Sykes sitting outside, but the sun has all but gone down. In the background we can see leaves being whipped around by the cool night breeze, but not much more. Sykes looks off pensively into the distance before cracking a smirk. "Ya know, as cliché as it may be, it didn't have to he this way. I've been very vocal, and I've been crystal fucking clear about what it is I want - NO. What it is I NEED as a competitor here in PWS Apex. You see, I know there's plenty of men and women sitting in the back content on wrestling one show every other month and then a big time PPV match - sitting back and collecting a pay check off minimal effort... or the folks who have become so comfortable fighting the same four people over and over and over again that they fear branching out to anyone else who comes into this company... but I'm not one of those guys. I strive off the fight, I live for the chase, and without the competition that I so desperately hunger for?
Well. You all see what happens. Daddy don't wait to be fed a meal, daddy goes out and makes one himself.
Now let's get right to brass tacks because I've been waiting for this a long... long time. Nick Madison... I've been waiting for the days that I appeased the PWS Apex Gods to get a match with someone like you. You see I came into this company with the gullible hubris that if I tried hard enough, if I scratched and I clawed valiantly enough that eventually they'd have to give me some of the marquee matches. Boy, was I a fucking nimrod for expecting hard work to be the way... because let's be honest I didn't get this main event match up off of my impressive win/loss record, or my clear-as-day superiority to the other members of this roster. Nah, it took kidnapping the daughter to get ol' Liam Neeson's attention. I shoulda known from the start to stick with what brought me to the dance - because if there's one thing I'm good at? It's pissing people off. And finally... I've pissed off the right people.
So Nick, let's have a little chat, shall we? Because I said a lotttttt to your little step daughter last Riot, and that's just the tip of the iceberg to what I have to say you my friend." Sykes shifts his body, crossing his legs on the cold soil below him as another gust of wind blows through the scene, furrowing the sleeveless white 'ANTITHESIS' shirt Sykes wears.
"Nick, in going to give you the benefit of the doubt, because of all the 'legends' hanging around the PWS locker room, I'll be honest when I say that I respect you the most. While the rest kiss ass, people please and look for the right person to sleep with - you've always fought for the name you've made for yourself. Now sure, to those just tuning in that's probably an interesting statement considering you're married to the suit of the company, but it wasn't always that way. Back before the Apex, in the days of the Revolution, the X-treme and the International, Nick Madison was a fucking badass. Nick Madison was a killer. When guys like Rev, Alpha Dog, Steven Xavier walked around preaching how dangerous they were - Nick Madison just stepped into the fucking ring and showed how dangerous he was. You're talking about a man who's walked through every imaginable hell in and outside of the ring time after time again and still not only has lived to tell about it - but is holding his own against the next generation of wrestlers. I don't hate you Nick for the same reason I hated a guy like Chaz Holiday who was a medium fish in a dwindling pond...
My issue with you is the fact that after all these years - after standing up for yourself and fighting against guys like yourself being held down and over shadowed by whoever the manager of the minute was in PWS... you now sit idly by and watch as it happens to everyone else. You sit on your golden throne untouchable, and you come and you go as you please, taking that spotlight that you knew belonged to the future of the company, and you keep it in between your greedy fingers for one simple reason... because you have nowhere else to go. You're kind a spirit who can't move on, you just linger around the PWS repeating days gone by over and over and over again... and you're content because you know you're not like a Shane Fuller who could go to acting. You're not like a Thunderbird who spends their time training the next generation while exploring other facets of entertainment. Hell, you're not even like Chaz Holiday who can live off being a social media presence. You stick around the PWS not because YOU want to, but because nobody else WANTS YOU. You spent so long making your way to the top of this company that after you did? You didn't know what life was without that spotlight. Without that admiration. Hell, your entire family is tied up in it - nearly every Madison in existence is on this roster or has been. So you fear letting a guy like Jonathan Sanders, or Alexander Lyons, or Dionysus, or of course your truly - you fear one of us getting too hot because the second we do?" Sykes snaps his fingers. "There goes what little time in the spot light you have left."
Tyson keeps his prolonged eye contact with the camera for an uncomfortable amount of time before throwing his hand up dismissively. "Look you wanna call this your last match on Riot? Cute. I give it six months tops before you waltz your ass back in here claiming x y and z forced your hand back into the game. But I'll make this exceptionally easy to understand Nick - if you're mad at what happened to lil ol' Bella last week? Which, clearly you are considering the comments around requesting this match up. But if that's got you heated - then guess what? Mission accomplished. I said it before and I'll say it again, Bella I'd a helluva wrestler, and she's a formidable opponent against most. But to me? She's not in my league - hell we're not even playing the same God damn sport Nick. Last week wasn't about beating Bella Madison, it was about - - how should I put this. Y'all know I'm a big fishing guy, so let's equate it to fishing. You cast out first lookin' to catch a minnow. Nobody wants a minnow, nobody is spending their afternoon dreaming about catching something so inconsequential - it's a means to an end. You're catching that minnow so you can drive your hook through it and cast out again to catch the real fish. The trophy fish. That's what you're spending your time on - that's the goal. Bella Madison? She was just the bait fish - and boy, it didn't take long to catch the trophy my friend.
And you want to talk about fighting dirty? Showing me some respect, or whatever other 'legend I a wrestling business facing an up and comer' bullshit you were spewing? 5 years ago I'd have been foaming at the mouth knowing you meant it. I'd have needed a new set of underwear because I'd have been so excited I'd have torn a whole in the front of mine. But now? While I'm excited to finally have the big game to hunt? You're not as fast as you once were. You're not as strong as you once were. You're not as agile as you once were. You don't have that fight in you that it takes to go one on one with me Nick - and that means you're an easy hunt. An easy kill.
Long story short? What I did to Bella wasn't personal nor was it overly impressive - it was a means to an end. What I do to you on Riot? Well, let's put it this way. I'm aiming at taking the choice out of your hands - because if I get my way?
This will absolutely be your final Riot... just not on your terms.
On mine." Sykes stares at the ground for a moment, shaking his head before chuckling once more.
"Ya know Nick... I don't know how much about me you really know, or care to know, but some people say I have a little bit of an obsession with serial killers, and the sick that plague this country. Hence The Ripper, if you haven't caught up. We're going to be in Atlanta, GA for Riot but I took a little time and took a trip north a little while to the sight of one of the worst tragedies of our lifetimes. You see in 2002 a duo collectively known as The DC Sniper ran rampant through the DMV area of Maryland, Virginia and of course DC. It's an incredibly sad story... but a few interesting notes come of it. The police knew of how dangerous this man was, but their negligence and unwillingness to cooperate allowed this team to run rampant for over three weeks, stacking up a heartbreaking body count in the mean time. They were warned, and they had everything they needed to stop this tragedy from happening.
Nick - I've warned you, and I've warned the PWS about the consequences of ignoring me for too long. They knew what I wanted, and they allowed you to get in the ring with me. Now?
The bloods on their hands for not listening." Sykes tosses something to the ground before standing up and exiting the scene. The camera slowly pans down to reveal the following note, with a small tarot card lying on top of it.
End.