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The World That Never Was: Eric Tyler Does DaVE!

Monkeypox

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Monkeypox

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[CENTER][FONT="Arial Black"][SIZE="5"]"Ontology"[/SIZE][/FONT][/CENTER] [I]OoC Post: Okay, confession time. I didn't take the changes to the C-Verse in TEW2008 all that well. After all, Adam Ryland had done nothing short of putting a bullet in the one Fed I'd ever really cared about and scattering the leftovers to every continent and circumstance. In terms of in-game continuity, it made sense. Well, **** continuity. I've spent the last year writing about Mark Cuban's (mis)management of DaVE, and I just don't have it in me to abandon guys like [b]The Wrath of God[/b] and [b]Eddie Peak[/b] to take up some new banner. If I did, it'd have to be TCW and I just don't have the energy to take what is probably an overblown writing style to a roster that size. So here's what's gonna happen: DaVE continues. The downturn happens, the hemorrhaging of wrestlers happens, but DaVE survives, albeit in much different form. My old dynasty, [b][u]Mark Cuban Does DaVE![/b][/u] (available here for the curious: [URL="http://67.19.230.90/~arles/forum/showthread.php?t=19932&highlight=monkeypox"]Mark Cuban Does DaVE![/URL]) flashes forward in time to match up with the C-Verse, which will be unmodified except for the continuation of DaVE... PSW will exist, as will FCW. These changes will be integrated into the storyline. Especially at the beginning, this dynasty will face backward as much as it does forward, using a series of "Lost" style flashbacks to explain the events of the interim, which will be revealed a little bit at a time. But why explain it instead of just doing it? Welcome back to the next chapter in what was formerly known as [b]Mark Cuban Does DaVE![/b][/I] [CENTER][FONT="Century Gothic"][SIZE="4"][B]DaVE: COUNTER CULTURE[/B][/SIZE][/FONT] [COLOR="Navy"][FONT="Book Antiqua"]Live, Monday, Week 2, February 2008 from Pennsylvania Park for a Sold Out Crowd of 2000![/FONT][/COLOR] [U][FONT="Impact"][SIZE="3"]THE MAIN EVENT[/SIZE][/FONT][/U] [CENTER][IMG]http://i125.photobucket.com/albums/p44/monkeypocks/EricTyler.jpg[/IMG] -vs- [IMG]http://i125.photobucket.com/albums/p44/monkeypocks/EddiePeak.jpg[/IMG][/CENTER] [FONT="Century Gothic"]"The Man Who Won't Stay Down" Eric Tyler vs "The Great White Shark" Eddie Peak[/FONT] [FONT="Book Antiqua"]Hell in a Cell Match for the Unified Title[/FONT][/CENTER] Eric Tyler rubbed his eyes. The mat, just inches from his face, was blurred so badly that the smears of blood seemed like a watercolor, something artistic. He laughed, perverted through the clots in his throat - Art was for pansies. He tried to focus. Nausea swept over him and he shook his head like a dog, down on all fours, trying to shake off the blood loss, still smiling at the mixture of sweat and blood flying off of him as he whipped his head back and forth. He'd seen his golden retriever do the same thing after a swim. He realized the crowdnoise was quieter on his left than his right and wondered if maybe he'd done something to his ear. [i]Focus.[/i] Peak was up and moving. He slid his hand to his knee, trying to muster up the energy to rise. He felt the subtle vibrations of the ring as Peak bounded towards him and instinctively relaxed his back muscles in the split second before the elbow stabbed into his spine with all of the weight of the Great White Shark behind it. Eric flattened, let the air shoot from his lungs and relaxed his solar plexus but still found himself gasping, suddenly numb and boneless. This was it, he knew, even as Peak hefted him back to his feet and he found himself suddenly running into the ropes, his feet and legs working robotically and without feeling, his body sagging into the ropes and rebounding through experience alone. This was the end of his last title run. His feet left the ground and he felt Peak's hand open on his chest... "Spine buster" was all he had time to think, splaying his legs out in mid-air and contracting the muscles of his abdomen, and then a new explosion of shock and compression sent a fresh series of sparks dancing across his vision. He didn't even feel Peak pull him up, didn't feel or see Peak's arms come around him into [b]The Widow's Peak[/b], a feared finisher consisting of little more than a series of point-blank headbutts to the bridge of the nose until unconsciousness is achieved. [i]It should hurt more[/i], he thought himself thinking as Peak's forehead crashed into his own and new rivulets of warmth spread across the muddy smear of blood he'd already lost over the course of this 28 minute match. His head snapped back on his neck, his legs went slack. He could hear Peak roaring and was vaguely aware of being covered for the pin - he couldn't have kicked out if he'd wanted to, but there was no kicking out required of him. This was the moment all champions dread - when they end up flat on their back, the gold belt and glory already receding away from their corner and indeed, as the ref slapped his hand against the mat for the third time, he was awake enough to distinguish the shape of Peak already taking the belt back around his waist, 9 months after Tyler had taken it from him. Tyler heard him roar again and watched the white blur of his back stalk away from the ring and out of the limit of his peripheral vision. Laying there, taking a silent index of the innumerable spots of pain and increasing stiffness criss-crossing his body, Tyler was aware of how long it would be until he wrestled again - each recovery took longer than the one before. Eventually and soon, he knew, there would be no recovery and he would join Nemesis on the sidelines and spend the rest of his life gradually buckling under the weight of every crime he'd committed against his body, waking up stiffer and stiffer, more and more limited, lost in the shadows with nothing but the aches and the crappy VHS tapes of his best matches, already long behind him. But it wouldn't matter, and it wouldn't be the same for him as it was for those other guys, it wouldn't be a question of stepping out of the limelight. For while Eric Tyler had indeed lost the Unified Title, he'd gained something else: DaVE. [b]Result: Eddie Peak d. Eric Tyler in 27 minutes to win the DaVE Unified Title. Eric Tyler had made 7 successful defenses.[/b] [FONT="Impact"][COLOR="Sienna"]Rating: C+[/COLOR][/FONT] Show Rating: C-
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Monkeypox Newbie

Monkeypox

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[CENTER][B][FONT="Book Antiqua"][SIZE="5"]"The Fall of Mark Cuban"[/SIZE][/FONT][/B][/CENTER] It was clear to all of us, even before the Caulfield incident gave the network the excuse they'd been waiting for and [b][COLOR="DarkRed"][FONT="Arial Black"]DANGERZONE[/FONT][/COLOR][/b] was cancelled without so much as a goodbye show. The ratings were crap, I guess, but what did Cuban expect? He'd mortgaged our future on the promises he made to get us a TV show, spent most of our money upfront on advertising and put us up against a much more popular romantic comedy at that timeslot and while I'd always felt we'd produced a consistently high quality product, we never managed to fulfill the "Next SWF" hype that Cuban had created for us. By September, the networks were complaining and Cuban was resorting more and more often to "one-time infusions" of his personal cash just to keep everyone paid. When the Caulfield incident killed the show in November, Cuban didn't make much of an effort to find a new sponsor. When the PPV contract went silently unrenewed a month later, the writing was on the wall. By then, some guys had started looking for new jobs and the PSW exodus had already claimed a substantial chunk of the backstage leadership. Just in time for Christmas, Cuban told us what we already knew: DaVE was bankrupt. He was cutting his losses and shutting down the company. All contracts would become void on January 1st, 2008, and everyone should set about finding a new place to work. He was sorry, he said. He gave a lot of platitudes about the nature of the business, but never came close to saying the one thing that might've made the guys feel better, if only for a second: It was all his fault. He'd alienated DaVE's core constituency, stripped it of the very cult-quality that had made DaVE such an underground success, tried to take us into the mainstream and in so doing, had sold and ultimately crushed the soul of the company. Tyler watched silently and didn't say anything. He was the Unified Champion, but his last televised match was nothing - a midcard squash against Teddy Powell, part of a storyline that really didn't have anything to do with him. Over the years, he and Nemesis had become the undisputed backstage leaders of DaVE and the guys were counting on him to say something, ANYTHING, but he didn't. He just smirked. He barely looked to be paying attention. By the time I found out what happened next, it was already a done deal and we were already heading back to work (though admittedly without knowing why). Nemesis told me about it after the papers had already been signed and that, he said, was by design. Workers first, everyone else second. The day after Cuban announced the closure of the company, Tyler went into action. I don't know how long he'd been planning this, how many nights he'd spent with financial documents, how many beers he'd needed to grease Nemesis and Caulfield into going along with him. The pitch was simple: Don't close DaVE, sell it. At a loss. A huge, borderline catastrophic loss. To Eric Tyler. For Cuban, the decision was arbitrary. He'd already lost 80% of his investment in DaVE, but DaVE was only ever a sideproject from his real job. It represented something like 2% of his personal liquidity. He'd lost more on the stock market in the same year than he did on DaVE. Maybe he said yes because it allowed him to look like a nice guy. Maybe he felt bad for what he'd done to everyone. In any event, it wasn't a big decision for him. I doubt he thought about it again. For the consortium of workers led by Tyler, on the other hand, it was huge. All three men emptied their bank accounts, retirement accounts, everything. Caulfield took out a mortgage on his house. Nemesis agreed to do commercials for a beef jerky seller. All of the control was transferred to them, but so was the risk. No TV show, no PPV, nothing short of putting their entire lives on the line for one hope - that DaVE didn't fail because it had an ageing roster or ultimately stale ideas, or because SWF and TCW eclipsed them, or because America had just grown tired of hardcore wrestling, it failed because it lost its way and maybe, just maybe, that way could be found again. They made the announcement the next day. The exodus began immediately.
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Clarity Newbie

Clarity

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[QUOTE=mad5226;443390]I can see Nemisis now "Snap into a slim Jim!!!" Then he runs his head through a wall. Welcome back[/QUOTE]I think i speak for all of us when i say that your diary has been much missed [I]*wipes the brown mark off his nose*[/I]
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Actarus Newbie

Actarus

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Well, look who's made his triumphant return! Welcome back, Monkeypox. As usual, well-written posts, and a great way to start your dynasty. I'll admit to missing Cuban, well, the comedic aspects of having Cuban around at any rate. But still, it'll be interesting to see where this goes.
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Tigerkinney Newbie

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Indeed, the set up was a rather ingenius way of keeping DaVE alive, but also highlighting the fact that in 2008 they are pretty much down on their knees. Be interesting to see in your slight adjustment of the 08 Data, who has stuck it out in DaVE, and who has made the exodus to PSW and FCW.
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Pampero Firpo Newbie

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I've been hoping you would restart your dynasty. Great way to kick things off -- can't wait to read more. By the way, I never thought I'd see the day when a wrestling diary started off with the word "ontology". Post frequently -- Peak wants to see his name in writing regularly and if he doesn't.... <>
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Dragonmack Newbie

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It will probably be a while longer before I start posting up my new diary, but I thought I would put up a little teaser to show that my 'Interconnected Cornellverse' idea is still going strong. :D [I]"This was an opportunity I couldn't pass up as a wrestler, as I might never get another opportunity to wrestle Tyler again. A guy I know who booked for DAVE back before it collapsed, due to some screwball billionare coming in and f'ing everything up. Well anyway this guy Jack, although everyone called him 'Monkeypox' for some strange assed reason, had mentioned bringing me in for some angle he had going with the Cult of the Gray Dragon, but everything went to hell in DAVE soon after so nothing ever came of it. So this is a chance to regain that lost opportunity to face one of the big names from my stomping yards of the Tri-State. Ironically of course, I learned later that Tyler had actually engineered a revival of DAVE, by forcing this jerkwad billionare to sell at a major loss. Here's hoping he can make it fly again."[/I]
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Monkeypox Newbie

Monkeypox

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[CENTER][B][FONT="Book Antiqua"][SIZE="5"]"Exodus Wept"[/SIZE][/FONT][/B][/CENTER] At first, it seemed like it couldn't have gone any better. The announcement came out of the absolute left-field at a time when a lot of the guys were just starting to realize how bad things might be. Sure, there were main eventers who had undoubtedly started to see dollar signs with every ring of the phone, but for every guy like that, there were three more like Bulldozer Brandon Smith or Black Eagle or Teddy Powell who realized that this was probably going to mean a trip to NYCW or CZCW or MAW. There'd be no SWF, no TCW. Even winded and bloodied as DaVE was, it was a national name. Black Eagle once told me that as hard as Steve Flash worked, he never really had to worry about anyone recognizing him at the grocery store - one of the best pure wrestlers in the world able to stand in line at the bank like everyone else without more than the odd fan asking for an autograph, which he [i]always[/i] gave. Every time. For guys like Black Eagle and Art Reed, this was a step back. For guys like Brandon Smith, this was a step into the abyss. Tyler waited for everyone to congregate in the locker room after a house show in a mostly empty McGraw Arena. Guys shuffled around, spat on the floor. The mood was suicidal. With his usual sense of flourish, Tyler cleared his throat, then slammed his fist into a locker. Everyone turned around. "**** it." He yelled. "I bought DaVE." Guys laughed. Teddy Powell spat on the ground and shook his head, wincing. Giedroyc raised an imaginary glass in a toast: "To you, Eric Tyler, sad b*****d, man who bought DaVE with nothing but wishes and second rate h*ndjobs!" Everyone laughed harder, there were scattered applause, guys went back to unloading their lockers. Nemesis didn't speak loudly, but that baritone had a way of filling the room. "He's telling the truth." Now everyone fell silent, looking at Nemesis and Tyler and at eachother. Tyler would joke about something like buying DaVE but Nemesis would sooner make a joke about murdering his own grandmother than he would the fate of DaVE. Giedroyc shook his head. "You're... you have to... you can't be serious." Nemesis nodded and Tyler smiled. Standing back, you could see emotions flickering rapidfire across the faces of everyone there - suspicion, denial, confusion... but one by one, the guys started clapping. And yelling. Screaming. Throwing furniture, hugging eachother, slamming calloused fists against their lockers, the guys turned the locker room upside down for a good 10 minutes before Giedroyc spoke only one word: "How?" This was Tyler's cue. His speech was long and rambling, but basically amounted to how he'd taken DaVE back from that peckerwood technocrat, back to the workers, back to the WRESTLERS. DaVE, he said, was now a completely worker owned and managed federation, and anyone could buy a share in the ownership which would entitle them to a share of any growth. Workers would have a say in their own gimmicks, in their pushes, in their turns and in how they were promoted. Any worker would be free to pitch a storyline to me, and I'd be required to listen. Most of all, no ownership interest or creative control would ever be extended to a non-wrestler. DaVE was now a cooperative of wrestlers. Guys went back to cheering, but Nemesis interrupted. "There's something else, and everyone listen. This ain't Mark Cuban's DaVE and - " (interrupted by the cheering) "LISTEN. This ain't Mark Cuban's DaVE, and that means we ain't got Mark Cuban's money. These are lean times and they're gonna get leaner. I know a lot of you guys have big plans, plans that might not include goin' back to near zero. NO, JUST LISTEN. I'm giving every wrestler here the chance to renegotiate their contract. You want to opt-out, you can. That goes for everyone. I ain't gonna let DaVE be the thing that holds you back. You want to jump ship, jump. No hard feelings, and I don't want nobody here who doesn't want to be here. You've got two weeks to make up your minds." Eddie Peak stepped forward, his mouth full of some sort of gravy. "I don't need two weeks." Chewing noisily, he started towards the door. Nemesis blanched. "So you're out. That's okay." Peak looked over his shoulder, blinked a few times. "No, no, I'm in." Guys started looking at eachother. "**** it. I'm in too." This was from Bulldozer Brandon Smith. "In." That was from Acid. "Of course I'm in, Eric." This was from Geidroyc. And like that, half of the main event had opted in. Guide and Scout put up their hands next, then Art Reed, then Black Eagle, then everyone, all in a wave. The last hand to go up was Sammy Bach. His hand started up and faltered, but I caught Teddy Powell shaking his head almost imperceptibly, and Bach's hand went up the rest of the way. This was, of course, well back before they stopped speaking. Tyler stood there, hands across his chest, nodding and smiling like this is exactly what he'd anticipated. "Allright, then. Go home, get some sleep and think hard about your future. OUR future. This is our time. Our ****ing rules. OUR ****ING DaVE!" With another enormous cheer, the group disbanded. An hour later, Tyler, Nemesis and I sat at the Black Goose Pub. I smoked, Nemesis glowered, Tyler gloated. I still remember the last seconds of that sweet moment - Tyler belching in his chair, me cresting a delicious wave of whiskey and self-congratulation, even Nemesis almost smiling. Tyler exhaled loudly, banging his fists on the table hard enough to send the ashtray jumping. "Well," he said, "that wasn't so bad at all, was it?" Ten seconds later, the phone rang for the first time. Away from the locker room, away from the peer pressure, the "opt-outs" had begun in earnest.
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