Afterburn for Grapple Kingdom 4

[FGA Office]

Catch up with your favorite FGA grapplers on Afterburn! Get their thoughts on the latest, their opponents, and other backstage happenings right here, only on Frontier+.

[Seth Iser]

We then see a shot of the medical room where it seems they’ve smartly kept the two participants of Chivalry is Dead as separated as possible by making a second different medical area to get someone checked out at. We then see him getting his arm stretched out and you hear a grunt as he’s going through gritted teeth through all of this. The point of the elbow where Izzy connected with that double stomp seems swollen and the knee also seems…swollen and damaged. They had literally had to staple up and wrap up the gusher on his forehead and his nose, while set back in place by the people here, is obviously broken again. No amount of mist hides that. Even if there was some ‘hidden’, the stained blood of his wrist tape tells the tale. He’s covered in old blood and for a moment he just seems…despondent and exhausted by the ordeal.

Trainer: You’re…damaged, Seth. I can guess on what all the damage is but you have to go to the hospital and see.

It’s like those words went in through one ear and out the other for him as he’s still…processing everything. It’s one less stretch on that knee by the trainer, it does get a grunt out of him from the physical aspect but with how he has his head down…for as physically wounded as he is…he’s more…tired than anything else. But as the camera man makes one more step in the door…we get the most movement out of Iser it seems in a while when he actually grits his teeth to raise his head ever so slightly to acknowledge the presence that walked in

For a moment there’s this awkward silence as well as that smell of stale blood filling the room which can make someone wince if you think about it too long. Finally the veteran grits his teeth and you hear the echo of his hands coming together for a clap. The trainer looks displeased by Iser doing this but…you’re not going to say much of anything to a man that is much larger than you.

Then…a second clap, a little louder. Before he does it a couple more times, each a little more smoother and louder then the last one. It stops after six as he’s yet to even get up. There’s obvious pain in doing that motion in his arm but…he’s committed. It…echos similarly to how he clapped for Izzy at the closing moments of the match.

Seth Iser: Isabella…you won.

Even speaking is a bit of a harrowing experience for him as he doesn’t have the authority in his voice you’d often expect from him when speaking. It’s almost terrifying listening to him speak like this. He takes a couple of labored breaths before he tries to press further.

Seth Iser: I…admit defeat.

Again just three words spoken from the sullen and now…obviously broken Iser. He takes the none ailing hand and wipes something from his eye and he nods his head acknowledging what it is.

Seth Iser: That’s…a tear.

He says with full transparency. It’s…still really hard for the man to do…well anything as he’s taking a couple more deep breaths.

Seth Iser: Even I’m fully aware of what that symbolism means. There were cheers…there were people that booed, but I think they were even more than that…were utterly terrified of what we had to do. But that tear…it’s a tear of change.

He’s still not talking in what tone we’re accustomed to as it’s low and soft. He even leans back on where he’s seated before looking at the trainer and gesturing that he’s going to continue for a moment.

Seth Iser: And…I’d even wager a couple people were crying for one reason…or another tonight for what we had to do. Some are still terrified of that spike putting…another scar on this body. But…that tear of change…I can guess what it means on multiple fronts. I already have a decent idea for you…where that’s going to go. But for me…I don’t know yet. Twenty years in…and I actually have to use the words I don’t know like that…but that’s where…I’m at.

He even lets out a slight cough but not enough to start an actual coughing fit as he’s gritting his teeth and forcing himself to try to stand but that’s no dice…he collapses down as the trainer both looks agitated…and rightfully concerned.

Trainer: What are you doing? We HAVE to take you to the hospital!

Seth doesn’t respond to the verbal scolding right away but rather uses the man’s shirt rather than ask for an extended arm to pull himself up to balance himself on one leg. And he’s doing this with just his right arm as his left’s been mostly…just hanging down and not moving.

Seth Iser: I’ll…get there in my own vehicle. This is all going off of my own damn expense, so I am NOT taking a damned ambulance up there.

For the first time there’s a hint of that resolve and determination creeping into his voice as he’s using everything around him to balance himself. He’s digging the trenches in so to speak…not even putting weight on that leg. The look he does shoot the trainer does terrify him slightly but it’s fleeting for a moment as the pain is overwhelming him and that’s what his face contorts into even just balancing on his good wheel.

Seth Iser: I’m going to formally withdraw my name from The Royal Battle. I do know I’m damaged physically how badly exactly I won’t know until I’m looked at by full professionals but…I don’t think I have the mental capacity to…put in the effort to win that prize. It’d be…disrespectful to hold a spot hostage so I’m vacating it…

He takes a few deep breaths to compose himself before looking back behind him for a moment…and then back toward the camera with just a nod of his head.

Seth Iser: I don’t know when…I’ll be back. For all the time I’ve missed the last couple years with injury…this feels way more…mentally taxing then all of that. This year as a whole…has just been absolute hell for me…mentally. Now I need to go home…and see the entire details of the price I have to pay…because I think that’s hitting up here…

He points at his own skull…with just his good hand.

Seth Iser: Harder than anything you did to me physically Izzy. Like I said…you won. And you’ve earned the right to do what you want…pursue what you please after all. It took…

He again lets out a cough, the wounds everywhere taking hold…but he’s balling his good hand into a fist…digging that trench in one more time.

Seth Iser: It took…three years, but I think you lived up to your Mindkiller name with me. You…got what you came for but can you live with what’s going to come after the fact? Can you even handle…what might have come out? And have you fully gotten rid of my shadow? I...don't have the answers for you. Truly, I don't. I'm...too tired to really think on that at the moment. And...I need to know what all is physically wrong...so I've fulfilled your obligation. Please...let me leave.

That last bit of saying that as he just nods his head…and then he starts dragging his bad leg almost out as he’s working his way…out of the trainer room. He’s balancing himself with everything on his good side, leaning on walls and anything he can to support himself but he’s going to head out to the car…and get himself to the hospital himself.

[Izzy Anders]

Izzy felt sick. When her time of violence came to an end, bile rushed to the precipice of her throat. It tried its best to expel out of her system, leaving her with an acidic taste in her mouth. Yet, she gulped it down along with the feeling via a swig of cold water. She chewed on a piece of ice, anything to divert her mind away from the pain trying to chase after the earlier desire to vomit. Of course, the common statement was that she went into a war. It was her first Chivalry is Dead match, an escalation from her match with John Carmichael. Nonetheless, the pain that Iser inflicted on her, and conversely, what she did to herself wanted to speak to her. She refuted their need as she let the medical staff do what they had to. They numbed her bloodied and battered body with syringes full of miracle matter. Speaking of miracles, she recalled one of the attendants saying that she didn't break a single bone in her face. Izzy thought she had when Iser flung her facefirst into the outside mat, and then into the steel post. 

Her ears were still ringing, forced to listen to the echo of the ring bell. When Spencer came close to the door, she asked the doctors to tell him that she could barely hear them, let alone an interviewer. He would have more fun talking to Lowri Moss. In some sadistic way, Izzy almost relayed a request for him to prod Cordelia. See how she's handling picking up her broken ego. In truth, however, she needed the time alone. She needed the necessary moment to try to shove back whatever came out during the match. She looked at her hands; they were trembling. She could lie to herself that it happened because of the raw damage coursing through her body. It was now that she had to be honest with herself. Just who was it that was trying to pierce into Seth Iser's skull out there? Who was it that was intent on breaking his arm permanently? Who was it that was out there, trying to kill Seth Iser's career, if the man himself? 

Izzy laughed faintly. 

It was her, no denying it. There wasn't a moment where she wasn't aware of the atrocities she was doing. The crowd was cheering for it until she wanted to tear his face open with her fucking teeth. All her career, she knew the limitations of what fans would praise, jeer, and shy away from. None of it mattered. Hell, FGA didn't even matter. What Chivalry is Dead was to her and Iser was a vehicle to end a long-standing issue. She had given Iser what he wanted. She was the reaper. She was the venom.

The Mindkiller killed Wrestling's Greatest Mind. 

Izzy closed her eyes. But as she did, a sudden sound pushed through the ringing in her eyes. Her bright eyes widened in sudden shock. It was the clapping. At the end, Iser clapped his hands at her. He spoke of the shadow that will always be there. Izzy felt sweat trickling over the fresh wounds on her face. It stung. 

"Can you handle...what might have come out?"

Izzy paused on that thought. 

And she stayed there the whole night.

[Mister Harris]

Backstage once again in the Blue Cross Arena, we catch sight of Logan Alexander alongside Theodore Harris as they make their way to the parking lot exit at the end of the Grapple Kingdom 4 broadcast. Logan is dressed casually, t-shirt, jeans, jacket and running shoes, while Theodore is still in his suit from earlier. Logan carries a duffle bag over his shoulder as well. They spot Amanda Johnson up ahead of them, trade a glance between them, before heading on over.

Theodore Harris: Greetings Amanda. Waiting for anyone in particular or just whoever happens to be making their way out here?

Amanda turns to regard the pair.

Amanda Johnson: Evening gentlemen. I’m looking to get a few words with anyone willing before they go. Would you like to share your thoughts on tonight's activity?

She looks past Theodore to Logan.

Amanda Johnson: Either of you?

Theodore glances towards Logan briefly then back to Amanda and smiles slightly.

Theodore Harris: Certainly Amanda. We’d be glad to oblige you. I mean as I was informed earlier tonight, the man behind me just won't shut up. It was mentioned by a very credible source, so it must be fact. But I'll get back to that in just a bit.

He offers a playful smirk.

Theodore Harris: Overall, tonight was very... interesting. And gratuitously violent as well. Some really hard hitting matches up at the top. A lot of extra curricular violence closer to the bottom. One certified bloodbath close to the end. It was a clear reminder that the further you move towards the top, the more that you're going to need to be able to absorb and be willing to dish out. It is something to keep in mind Amanda. For all the triumph and glory to be had out there, this is a very unpleasant industry.

Amanda Johnson: I certainly think you've got a legitimate point there.

He nods to her.

Theodore Harris: Thank you.

Amanda Johnson: Do you have any other thoughts regarding Logan's evening specifically?

Theodore smirks at that.

Theodore Harris: Where to begin? I mean, we got to kick off the show with Mark Bisley rattling off all the old classic hits. Stuff from three years ago that was relevant back then and not so much now. He sounded like someone unable to move forward and grasp that things are different.

Amanda Johnson: Care to elaborate?

Theodore Harris: Can I? I do tend to ramble on. Are you sure you want to encourage that? You and everyone else in earshot would like to get home or back to your hotels sometime soon, right?

He smirks again.

Theodore Harris: To try and summarize though... Logan's hung up on Ashlyn De Luca still cause she carried him to glory, he talks... a lot and he wants to have the last word on everything, and why am I even here taking up all of the oxygen with my gum flapping?

A pause.

Theodore Harris: I mean, really? That's where the esteemed former 15 champion wanted to go? He didn't want to talk himself up but instead aimed to tear down a version of Logan Alexander that isn't here anymore. Everything he mentioned hasn't applied here in years. That was part of his undoing. Mark Bisley's inability to change, to learn and grow. He just pulls out the old playbook and hopes something works against an opponent vastly different from the one he remembers. He figured he was going to avoid Logan's game and implement his own.

He looks to Logan and then Amanda with a confused look on his face.

Theodore Harris: And what is Logan's game? Cowardice. Taking shortcuts. Being boring... Hmmm... maybe we can give him that one.

Theodore grins at Amanda, before looking back at Logan. Logan stares back at him, with perhaps a slight narrowing of his eyes. Theodore looks back to Amanda.

Theodore Harris: Tough crowd here. Moving on though. Mister Bisley missed one important thing Amanda. Logan's game mainly revolves around him still being one of the best damn mat wrestlers in the business. He didn't win by flapping his gums or using cheap shots or distractions to get an edge or lull his opponent to sleep. He outwrestled Bisley tonight. Bisley was probably shocked that Logan reversed the cloverleaf on him. That's an ace that Logan has had in his arsenal for years. So I guess it was a good thing that Mark didn't get his I Quit match. At least now he can pretend that he never gave up cause he never said so. Maybe he was just trying to swat a spider and the ref made a mistake.

He snorts softly.

Theodore Harris: But hey Mark, I'll give you kudos. You came out and wrestled a really good match out there tonight. You came close, but close doesn't cut it. Logan was better than you. There's always next time though. We won't duck you if you earn another shot. And to show there are no hard feelings... we'll give you one of the things you wanted this evening.

He motions to the microphone.

Theodore Harris: May I?

Amanda nods and Theodore takes it from her, then holds it up to Logan. There are several moments of silence before Theodore turns and offers it back to Amanda with another playful smile.

Theodore Harris: Silence from Logan.

Amanda Johnson: I'm... not sure that he'll appreciate that gesture.

Theodore shrugs.

Theodore Harris: All he's getting tonight beside the kudos.

Amanda Johnson: Well then, where do you two go from here?

Theodore Harris: We take a few days to rest and recuperate, then we catch a plane to England. We've got another big event in a week.

Amanda Johnson: Of course. Logan will be taking part in the Royal Battle. Your thoughts on that?

Theodore Harris: Much like the Gold Rush Rumble, it's not Logan's kind of match. But we'll see what the numbers decide and then Logan's going to go out there and try to make as much of an impact as possible. He's going to be in there with a lot of the top names in this company. Mine, Anders, Stokes, Voltage, Prichard, Gonsalves. There’s room for some surprise names in there too, so you don't really know what you're getting. And if they end up in the ring together, you know that Logan will probably be mixing it up with Sparrow and Bisley again.

He rubs his chin thoughtfully and looks back to Logan.

Theodore Harris: Really... I think Logan's just going to go out there and enjoy himself. If he can win the Royal Battle and get that shot against Lowri Moss, that'll be a huge success for him. But even if he gets tossed out, he's still the Legacy champion and we'll go from there and see who'll be the next one to step up on that front.

Amanda Johnson: Well, I think that covers everything on my checklist here. Anything else you'd like to add?

He shakes his head.

Theodore Harris: Nah. I think that's good enough for now. Leave it there, and we'll see you in about a week.

Amanda Johnson: Alright. Thank you both for your time.

Theodore offers a quick wave to her before stepping away and walking off with Logan.

[nealdurden]

Gareth’s backstage dragging the FGA US title belt; making sure it scratches every single crack, stone, piece of equipment, shit-stain that he could find on the floor. The disdain Prichard shows to the belt he just won from Owen Gonsalves is just rivaled by whatever he’s murmuring under his breath as the cameraman finally catches up to him; stopping the Cardiff native in his tracks.

Gareth Prichard Jr: What? Did you expect me to be happy I have to carry this garbage with me all the time? Did you expect me to be happy that now I have to fly back to the ingrates that didn’t give a crap about me when I was in UKWF, but now all of the sudden want to see me at Royal Albert Hall?

Prichard picks up the belt and throws it towards the camera as he continues.

Gareth Prichard Jr: For all I care, YOU’RE NOW the FGA US Champion! Congratulations! We have a new champion! The CAMERAMAN!

He applauds and cheers as he then grabs the camera and has it remaining static as he speaks.

Gareth Prichard Jr: My title, MY championship isn’t that fucking strap. No, I don’t find pride or joy in those things that get thrown around as consolation prizes for everyone and their momma. No, my prize after tonight was choking the reigning “Technician of the Year” out cold. My prize was showing the world I CAN… and I WILL take what I want, when I want to… and that’s the key… WHEN I WANT… not when YOU want me to.

Prichard snickers as he turns his head to the right and places both of his hands inside his pockets.

Gareth Prichard Jr: That leads me to you, flightless bird. I find it funny that you would walk out to state I’m “not the greatness you aspire to be”... and THAT’S GOOD! Don’t ever aspire to be like me, don’t ever look at me as a role model. That’s exactly what I want to happen; I’m sure you meant it as sort of an insult and for me to take offence with it, but I really don’t. I don’t care that you don’t think I’m great. I don’t care that you don’t think highly of me… because no one else does. So one more, what’s the fucking difference, flightless bird?

Gareth picks the now scratched belt up and shows it to the camera.

Gareth Prichard Jr: This is what you want? You want ALL THE ACCOLADES, so you want this belt…

Gareth throws the belt against the nearest wall as he continues talking.

Gareth Prichard Jr: Come and pick it up, for all I care. That’s 10 pounds less in my luggage and less I have to pay in travel expenses. Claim it, say you’re the FGA UNDISPUTED UNITED STATES CHAMPION… yell it, tell the world that THE FUTURE IS NOW! Because I don’t have time for shits and giggles… and as I said, I already claimed what I wanted from my match with Owen.

Prichard looks straight at the camera – more precisely at the cameraman.

Gareth Prichard Jr: Now, if you excuse me… I need to get the fuck out of here.

As Gareth leaves, the camera stays focused on the discarded FGA US Belt that Gareth just left behind… and we fade to black.