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Rank：Diamond Member
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From：Canada
- Register：12/07/2008 01:08 AM
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Date Posted：02/26/2016 00:31 AMCopy HTML
Despite only having met the night before, Cyrus exchanged numbers with Psyche and invited him to the private gym that he trained at in the heart of London, underneath of his godfather’s business. Within the well lit gym, a ring was erected in the center with weight stations along the outer wall, with a punching bag and speedbag station positioned in the far corner where proper hand-eye coordination training could take place without the distraction from the weights and in-ring preparation that visitors had a tendency to focus on. However, this day was reserved specifically for Psyche, so that the two could become acquainted in a way that would allow them to work together properly. This was of the utmost importance for Cyrus, as he had never exactly trained anyone before, yet possessed all of the required knowledge to become an advisor to anyone looking at becoming a competitor.
The pair stood in the center of the ring, sitting down for starters, so that they could gauge a good starting point for the day. Cyrus was admittedly nervous, and rightfully so, as his new friend was still only eighteen, and he felt a sense of responsibility and duty to point her in the right direction and keep it that way. The last thing he needed on his trips to and from England were the thoughts of letting someone else down. There were quite a few topics the two could touch on, but he figured the best possible route would be to work from the ground up and skip any steps necessary since she had already learned so much. She did, after all, beat the holy hell out of another girl just the night before, and with convincing ease and ferocity.
“So, Miss Psyche, I guess we can just take it from the beginning. We talked a bit before, but I have to be honest, I’d like to know more if that’s okay with you.”
Psyche looked up at Cyrus from where she was tying her boots. She smiled slightly.
“What would you like to know?”
“Well, to be honest, I’d like to be let in on your story. What made you choose to do this?”
“Oh right. Well… I’ve always been into wrestling since I was little. My dad has taken me to shows for as long as I could remember. Indy stuff that he found here when I was young and the big shows that went on in America as I grew up. He’ll still take me when he goes on business and there’s a show going on. I’ve just always been fascinated by everything that went on, yeah? And, admittedly, I fought a lot in school. It was a way to let out steam and a way to get people off my back. But I was always smart. Had them hit first on camera and once I found a place out of sight, lay them out. Always worked in my favour. They would get the first shot, but they’d also look worse after. Fighting just gave me thrills, you know? But I wanted to learn to fight proper in a ring. Be like those wrestlers on the telly.”
An impressed look began to show on Cyrus’ face as he listened to her explanation. Once she finished, his eyebrows raised and his head nodded.
“Damn, so you’re quite the intellectual when in a fight scenario. I love that, it’s always fun. So, is that what you thought about last night when you got into the zone you were in? Memories haunt you a bit, causing you to unleash the inner turmoil, so to speak?”
“In a sense, yeah. Back then, I knew when a punch was coming. I knew how to make it look more painful than it was, since I could anticipate it. I would, in a way, lead the person into the first hit. But last night I wasn’t paying attention. She got a cheap shot in and it made me mad. So I lashed out and kicked her arse for it. I mean… Ian taught me a lot of stuff… but I tend to go back to my school fight days and get back into that dirty pub brawl type fighting. But that’s not exactly realistic in a professional wrestling scenario. And that’s the goal. I don’t know any real moves, I guess. Just a few that I can throw in. Basically I know how to win myself a pint at the pub.”
She laughed and shrugged. She was young, but she could usually pass for older in a bar. Cyrus laughed, appreciating that she had her street smarts about her.
“Well, I’ll let you have a pint after this with no winning required, if that’s makes you feel better. Anyway, you said you knew a few that you could throw in, so what are those?”
“Oh… just your basic standard moves, really. Full or half nelsons, clotheslines, irish whips, really basic stuff. Just things to make it a bit more professional and not so much like I’m about to break the face of the person I’m up against.”
He nodded in understanding.
“I see… and how about control? Can you pull your punches like a professional wrestler would? Are you able to discipline yourself not to go in for the kill?”
“No, not really. I’ve never had to…”
She looked down, thinking to herself. Ian really taught her to hit harder. Never how to fight properly in a match. He was teaching her to fight dirty and make someone bleed. To break someone, worse than she already knew how to.
“You know what? That’s not a problem, love. I have a way we can fix that, so you can instinctively know when to hit hard and when to lighten up. But first, I need to know if you trust me enough to look out for your best interest? My method is different, but it will help you greatly.”
She looked back at him, smiling.
“Of course I trust you. Honestly… I’ve known you for a day and I already trust you more than I did Ian.”
Cyrus smiled widely, very happy with her response.
“Brilliant. We’re gonna stand up, and when we do, I am going to stand completely still. I want you to punch me in the face, no holding back.”
Psyche looked at him, confused.
“Like… right in the face? Honestly?”
“Precisely. Don’t be afraid. Truthfully, I’m a bit of a masochist, so pain and blood aren’t exactly a turn off for me. I’ll help you however needed, just do whatever you have to do in order to get into the mindframe you need to hit me. If I need to stop you, I will. The only way we can tone down the punch is for me to feel how you really throw one.”
She nodded, understanding his reasoning. She still felt a bit odd about it, however. She stood up, him in front of her, waiting for her to go. She bit the side of her cheek and got into a ready stance. She brought her hands close to her face, fists up. Her first punch was… weak. Hard, but not enough to do any damage. It was as if a very small woman that had never fought before had punched him. Weak was definitely the right word. This was not a real punch from Psyche, that was for sure. Cyrus smirked at her.
“I know, it’s not easy to do. It’s a new mental challenge in itself. Now, try again, and this time, harder.”
“I’m just… not angry with you. I think I need to be mad at you to do it. How do you get in that mindframe?”
“Just close your eyes for a few minutes. Imagine I’m someone else.”
She nodded, doing as he said. She closed her eyes, trying to think of someone that she actually did want to hit. Luckily for her, the incident last night made her feel that way towards Ian. She smirked to herself for a moment and then opened her eyes. She got into position again, looking at Cyrus, picturing him as Ian. She shot her arm out, hitting him across the right side of his jaw.
Cyrus blinked a few times, holding his jaw. This hit was a real one, and he may have stumbled onto something already that he could use.
“Excellent shot. That was significantly better. How did it feel to throw it?”
“Really good. Like… really good.”
She smiled, loosening up now. Her excitement amused Cyrus, as he decided to shake his head a bit to loosen up after the hit.
“Need a few more?”
“You want me to hit you more? On the face?”
“If it'll help you, you can hit me wherever. All I ask, not the bollocks, yeah?”
Cyrus laughed. She laughed as well, nodding.
“Seems fair.”
She smiled at him and got back into her stance. She closed her eyes and let out a breath. Her eyes popped back open and it was like she was looking at Ian again. She went all out. Right hook, left hook, uppercut, jab to the rib, anything she could think of. After a few of her hardest hits, Cyrus stopped her.
“Hold on, hold on…”
He took a few deep breaths while holding his rib.
“No denying, you're fuckin’ good. Now, the trick is, when wrestling, to take care of the other person in a sense. Invoke fear just by people thinking you'll hit them that hard. Now, think a bit less about who I am, and more about how your hand will connect. I'll react with the same pain, but you'll hit me significantly easier. Doesn't need to be perfect the first time, it's a process. Also, it helps you mentally, allows you to filter through your emotions.”
She scratched her head as she listened to him, trying to understand what he meant by it all.
“So what you’re saying is… we’re selling the punches, yeah? I’ll make it look like I’m going to hit hard, but it comes out softer in a way?”
“Yes, exactly. You throw full force, but either connect lightly or come close, to which I will make it look like you almost unhinged my jaw. When you throw it, make it either fast or forceful. You always want people to question whether or not you're stiff shotting me. It's more psychological that way.”
“Interesting. Alright. Let’s try it out, then.”
She tried to do exactly as he said, but at the start, it didn’t go as well to plan. She was either hitting him hard still, or not hitting hard enough and it was clearly seen. Cyrus remained focused, however, and wanted to ensure she got it down.
“You're finding that balance, so no worries. We won't leave until you get it right, I'll make all the time we need. Now, remember how you did the last two hits, and try to find the common ground.”
“Okay… I think i have it.”
She went for her next punch, which was almost flawless. The elation on Cyrus’ face was apparent, and he reacted accordingly.
“Fuckinell, you got it! Now, do it a few more times, just like that, and I'll show you how I can make it seem as if you really hurt me.”
“Okay!”
She was clearly excited that she had gotten it. She threw a few more punches, hitting them exactly as she was meant to. She was getting it for sure. As she connected with her last, selling the throw perfectly, Cyrus stumbled backward and dropped to a knee, seemingly hurt.
“Fuck…”
He said nothing more, he just knelt there, in pain. She looked a bit concerned, bending down towards him to check on him.
“Shit... did I fuck it up?”
Cyrus looked up immediately, smiling from ear to ear.
“Absolutely not, it was beautiful.”
He laughed slightly, patting her arm to reassure her that he was alright.
“That feeling you just had, where you thought you hurt me, is exactly what you want a crowd to think.”
She smiled as wide as he did, impressed by how well he sold it.
“That was amazing… I honestly thought I hurt you. And I knew I didn’t even hit that hard. Wow.”
“Trust me, I'm not looking forward to anymore of your real punches. You honed in on that quickly. See, wrestling is about selling, from the moves to your personality. You can be an asshole, you can be nice, you can be crazy, it's all up to you. So, important question… what do you want to do more? Fight or actually wrestle?”
She looked at him, thinking about her answer. On one hand, she was better at fighting, she thought. But on the other hand, she knew that she couldn’t wrestle outside of a place like this in her brawler style. It doesn’t really work like that.
“I… I don’t know. Here… I can get away with my regular fighting style, yeah? I don’t need to sell anything. That’s kind of why we’re here. But if I want to go further… be part of a place that does actual professional wrestling… I need to learn. And ultimately… that’s what I want to do. Here I can get away with knocking someone out and never worry about it. But out there… I can’t.”
“Exactly, and I would suggest that we merge the two. If you want to learn actual wrestling, I can facilitate that. If you want to knock someone's head off to blow off steam, we can do that too. There will come a time where the two can become fully integrated, and that's when you find yourself. It's expression at its finest. Truthfully, you have a gift, you're versatile. From here, it's all about building. Just in this short amount of time, you've accomplished learning a new skill while having a cathartic release. Difference is, unless you take up MMA, you won't get paid and have longevity at a fight club.”
She nodded, understanding everything he said. She liked how he thought. She knew he was the best person to show her what she needed to know.
“All of that sounds… awesome. You know, Cyrus, I never thought I’d learn anything like this. You have no idea how much this means to me. I can’t thank you enough, mate.”
Cyrus seemed touched by her words, and he smiled while a reflective looked appeared in his eyes.
“You're more than welcome. I love helping people, and this is my element really. If you're enthusiastic, so am I. Honestly, I'm learning from you as well, so thank you.”
She laughed.
“I don’t see what you could possibly be learning from me… But you’re welcome anyways, love.”
She smiled at him sincerely.
“Well, up until today, I've always been in your position. You're giving me a sense of responsibility and leadership that I've always wanted to try and implement. It's an equal relationship. I can show you things you don't know yet, and you'll do the same for me. Plus, I'm always alone on my trips here, it's good to have some kind of connection that's positive.”
Her cheeks reddened a small amount. She looked down for a moment, then back up at him.
“It’s nice to have someone that actually cares. That wants to help with, what seems to be, no hidden expectation for anything else. It’s nice to… have a friend.”
The sincerity in her words, coupled with the refreshing dynamic, made Cyrus silent for a moment. He looked at her, smiling.
“Yes, definitely a friend, and no hidden expectations. All I want is for you to get where you want to go, and I'll help you as much as I can. With my friendship comes a lifetime of support and assistance when needed. I choose friends wisely, but the vibe dictates it all. You, my dear, are a friend for sure.”
Welcome to the London Dungeon -- Riddle Blog Returns: Sentimental Edition
Reflection is a wondrous process. It can bring about the darkest and happiest of times, make you smile, or make you angry. Sometimes, we look to the past and examine our feelings, trying to solve the problems of the present. Other times, retrace and journey down one particular path. That's what this forthcoming match at Xtra has done to me.
For one of the first times in my career, I am not filled with digest toward an opponent. I have no insults, not even a single jab. Psyche Devyne has been and always will be family to me. Some bonds are stronger than they seem, and when approximately 10 years of history gets revisited, it stirs up old feelings. We remember the bad, we remember the good, the beginnings, and the journey until now.
I'm honored to step into the ring Thursday night with one of the greatest people this world has been blessed with. I know the two of us will put on the show of a lifetime. I'm not entirely happy about our relationship dynamic being exploited so that Boardwalk can make money, but that's the nature of the business. The secret is out, so all we can do is accept it. Honestly, it's a relief. I've always seen Psyche as an equal in the ring, and greater in character. She's a better version of what I'd aspire to be.
So, when we agree that whatever happens in the ring shall stay in the ring, those words will be upheld. When I tell her now that I want the best she can bring, I mean it. Hit me like you did the first day we trained. Show me the vicious side that captivated me from day one. Let's give dad a show as he watches us tear it down, back like we used to. Maybe it's time that we finally see what we can do together, as opposed to individually. Let's get in the ring, make Bally’s our whore, and fuck this city until it trembles.
We've always been on the same side, we've always fought for one another. I know that fighting against one another will bring out the best in both of us, and that's a promise we can make. I don't care if the referee is Bryan, Chimpo, or that talentless hack Buddy Royal. As far as I am concerned, it's you and I, love, and I will give you the match of your career. If Bryan gets out of line, that's his burden. I'm not coming to play loyalty games, because my loyalty will never be in question. My job for Xtra is simple… I take a personal relationship, create professional magic with it, and then shove it down the throats of every mother fucker who is watching for their own amusement, hoping we destruct.
Psyche, I will see you Thursday, and you'll get the best of me. You stated that you understand the mind of Cyrus, and you're correct, but that doesn't bother me. For once, I'm not concerned about my opponent knowing me so well, because this will create a challenge for us. Let's leave it out there, and no matter who has their arm raised, both of us will be able to stand tall.
Much love,
Cy
Cyrus sat in the floor of his once occupied Atlantic City abode. Unbeknownst to all, he had never sold the place out of sheer sentimentality. Tonight, however, he was actually going to give it some use. The objective was for it to be a meeting place, having sent her a text after Xtra was a wrap for the night. Her public breakdown concerned him, and regardless of who questioned his motives, the pair knew his reasons. At least two hours went by without a response, causing him to call to no avail. He didn't care about losing to Marisol, as his body was still plenty banged up from an extreme rules match the night prior. No, all he could do was worry.
At 1:30 AM he heard the faint sound of a car door close, which elicited a hurry to the window to survey the outer grounds. Indeed, Psyche had finally showed up, and he stood with the door open to greet her and ensure her safe arrival. No words were exchanged, just looks. Her defeated demeanor could be sensed throughout the empty living room, where she promptly sat on the floor. He spared no time in joining her, sitting in silence for a few long moments, until he said the only thing that he could think of at the time.
“Psyche, I'm sorry.”
He held his head down, wondering if she would remain silent, or engage in conversation. She sat beside him, her chin shaking as she restrained herself from another breakdown. Tears fell down her face. She basically hadn’t stopped since her match had ended, but if she had, only for a few moments. She still stayed silent, not sure what would happen if she opened her mouth. She was crushed. Completely and utterly crushed. After a bit more silence, she finally spoke.
“My dad’s gone, Cyrus…”
She turned her head towards him, face twisted in sorrow. He brought her in for a hug with his one arm, letting her head rest on his shoulder. Watching her expression made him want to cry, but he knew he had to be strong for her.
“I know, love, and I'm so, so sorry for your loss. I know it's crushing, but he loved you and you two always have that, no matter where you are. He still lives, but within you now. He was a great man.”
Psyche nodded against his shoulder. Her arms wrapped around his body, hugging him tightly. She needed someone to keep hold of her. Someone to ground her at this moment. If he wasn’t there, she would have surely lost herself.
“I know. He really was. I miss him a lot. And my mum... She’s all alone.”
“Only until you get there. It's fresh, and it will be for a while. Things like this take a lot of time. Everyone will find their way to heal, but it's important that you're there for one another and that you not let a day pass where you remind each other how important it is that you're present.”
He held her a bit tighter, letting her cry or do whatever she needed to let the emotions out. Psyche kept her head pressed against his shoulder, closing her eyes. She brought a hand up to wipe her face, putting it right back around him after.
“Do you remember the times he’d come see us wrestle? When he’d cheer for us. He was your number one fan, you know. Always asked about you.”
The recollection brought a slight smile to Cyrus’ face. He could remember like it was yesterday.
“Those were great times, yeah? He always had a gleam in his eye when he watched. To him, what we did was almost on the level of gods and goddesses. He's the reason I am uncomfortable with so much praise. No matter how shit I thought I was, he'd always make me feel like I was the greatest. As I recall, he did that to you frequently. It made us both uneasy, but we felt incredible for it.”
“He was definitely good at what he did. Definitely.”
She paused for a few moments.
“Do you remember the time when he tried to get in the ring and help me out?”
She laughed a bit, trying to think of good things about her father. Cyrus laughed himself, with flashbacks playing in his mind.
“Oh god, that was amazing. He got wrapped up in all of it. He was a true fan of ours, but even when he knew what we were doing, he was very protective of his girl. I distinctly remember all of the shouting he did during my matches as well.”
Cyrus paused, holding back a tear or two himself.
“The first man to ever treat me as if I were a real son. I told him once, but he didn't want to be anything more than modest, but I always wished I had a dad like him growing up. I hope he realized how instrumental he was in making me a better person. Hell, you have that same ability, you know that?”
She pulled back from him, looking at his face. She knew how much Cyrus actually meant to her father. He was like a son. And he would spend as much time as he could with Cyrus when he was visiting. She knew he was a big part of Cyrus’ life in the early years of their friendship. She never thought of herself as the same, though.
“You meant a lot to my dad, Cyrus. You would have been the perfect son for him. The perfect brother for me.”
She nodded slightly.
“But I never thought I had anything to do with how you turned out to be. That was always how I felt about you. You… You have no idea how much you changed my life. And his.”
He looked down, taking a deep breath as he wiped his eyes.
“Thank you, and I promised myself long ago that I would strive for that. That's what has made the bond so strong over the years, because we all balanced one another. In many ways, I was and always will be his son. Also, in many ways, I have been and will always be like a brother to you. You always revealed a better side of life for me. Your family showed me more care than anyone else ever has, and that kind of love never fades with me.”
A slight pause to collect himself again allowed Cyrus to speak once more without getting choked up.
“Not sure if he told you, but we still kept contact when we could. When I was gone, he always made sure to call me and we would discuss your matches so that we knew the other was keeping an eye on our Psyche. It was always fun, and we'd talk for hours sometimes. Honestly, that all flashed through my head when I ran out to you. I could just hear him telling me to get my ass to the ring.”
She put her head down, tears falling once again. She didn’t know. She didn’t know that both of them kept their eyes on her. She didn’t know that they still talked. Her dad just asked about Cyrus. He was always good at keeping secrets.
“Thank you for doing that, Cy. I don’t know how I let that happen. How I let myself do that. You know me… I turn off emotions like that when I’m out there. But I broke. I didn’t have time to process and I broke in the end.”
Cyrus gently placed his hand under chin and lifted her head to look at her.
“I would have been more concerned if you had kept yourself shut off. This is a different situation, and you reacted how you did, there's no fault in that. Sometimes it has to come out whether you want it to or not, love. You are not broken, you're just tested. I knew you needed someone there, and you know it's no problem. I'm sorry I had to break our agreement, though. But honestly, I am done with secret keeping. I'll deal with the consequences when they arise. I promised to always look out for you and be there, and that's the one promise I've never broken.”
She nodded in his hand. She knew their agreement. She knew what they had said all those years ago.
“It’s okay. You were there. And it meant the world to me that you did that for me tonight. Our agreement was for us. If it was broken, so be it.”
She paused for a moment.
“Do you remember why we made that agreement?”
Cyrus ran his hand over his head momentarily.
“It's was a while back, but as I recall, it mainly had to do with me secretly being in England at the time. We kept it alive so that people wouldn't insinuate so much, and it would allow both of us to grow in the business individually. It was better without the exploitation. After all of the Ian problems, we kept things secret.”
She nodded. That was exactly it. His secret of being in England and her problems with Ian. And, of course, they wanted to see what kind of success they could get on their own.
“Ian… I haven’t thought of him in a long time. That fucking twat.”
She clenched her teeth, thinking of the first time Cyrus had met Psyche and Ian. And then thinking of the last time they ran into him. The look of a million thoughts appeared on Cyrus’ face while he shook his head.
“I still say you should have let me do to him what I wanted to. But, I know you were looking out for me. I was never mistaken for calm when it came to him.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“You were going to kill him, Cyrus. That’s more trouble than you really needed. But you scared him. He knew to never come near me again after what you did.”
“That was a long time coming, and you're right, I would have made sure he stopped breathing. But, you grounded me, made me see that I had to understand when enough was enough. You know that voice that tells you what not to do? Yeah, that's you.”
He let out a faint laugh, but managed a smirk to let her know he was not joking. She laughed a bit as well. She knew he was serious.
“At least you listen to that voice. You could have ignored me.”
“Nah, I never could, and never will. There's too much respect inside of me for you to even contemplate not listening.”
She smiled at him for a moment. But her smile soon faded. Reality hit again. She frowned.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Cyrus. I don’t know what I’m going to do without him…”
This time, he pulled her in for a full hug, making sure to keep the comfort steady.
“Don't overthink it all at once, yeah? Maybe it's better if you ask yourself what he would want you to do instead. Let him continue to live through you. You've always made him proud, and I'm sure that's something he'd still want for you.”
She stayed in the hug with him, needing that comfort.
“He’d want me to keep going. He’d want me to fight. But it’s going to be really hard.”
“Of course it will be, because it'll make you stronger and will be worth it. He's still here, just in different form. Difference is, now he's finally in the ring with you where he wanted to be the whole time… and he's still holding me to my promise. The dynamic changes, but the bonds that hold us together never will break.”
Her eyes glazed over. His words hit her hard. He was in the ring with her now. Exactly where he wanted to always be. Those words meant more to her than anything anyone had ever said. She buried her head into his neck, hugging him tighter. After a little while, the two pulled away from each other. Psyche stood up from the floor, looking down at Cyrus.
“I should go… I’m sure Bryan is worried. And I need to make plans to go home.”
“I agree, and if you need anything at all, my phone is always on for you, as usual. If you need me, I'll race if I have to. Be careful going home, please, and text me before you go inside to let me know you made it safe.”
She nodded quickly. She wrapped her arms around him one last time, holding him close.
“I will. And thank you. Everything you’ve done means the world to me. You have no idea. I love you, Cyrus. More than you know.”
She let go of him, looking up at him. The man she saw as her brother. The man who helped mold her. She turned away and walked to the door, leaving him alone. With a lingering focus on the door that had closed upon her exit, Cyrus smiled.
“I love you too, Psyche… always.” |
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