Dom Falls First

[Ryan LeCavalier]

DOM FALLS FIRST

Wrestling.

Is such an idiosyncratic word. It made it sound like Ryan and so many others like her were some sort of pervert.

It wasn’t depraved. There was no pleasure that was derived from what Ryan did professionally. It was just the way the world worked. In the sport there are predators and there are prey. It was not a beautiful thing, but a necessary thing. The dead antelope was what fed the wild cat and its pride. It was either kill or be killed, not to sound entirely cliché. There were so many situations she could’ve pointed out that to be true – for instance, it was harder to keep picking up in hopes of rebuilding anew. Reinventing yourself through osmosis of others by virtue – was in fact hard. By the same token it was well worth it, furthermore the possibilities were endless. There were other ways a sport was likened to an act represented within the wild kingdom. A good example had been watching a mighty lioness rip and tear flesh from hide. It represented adversity in all forms of the word, either being injured or using politics to get ahead. She had hailed from a wrestling family. That only offered that she was in turn an animal. She had a pride to uphold. And there was no way that she was going to allow her family to end up on the wrong end of the food chain.

In a way the sport was only a single Discovery channel documentary away from art imitating life. As a matter of fact, she’d learned this in the last two months: Ryan Lecavalier always landed on hers, no matter the circumstances.

Signing to Frontier Grappling Arts reverenced it. It was a new lease on life. It was a chance to feel worth something. Not only was she searching for the most unbeatable foes, she wanted to go toe-to-toe with some of FGA’s best and brightest. Few names came to mind: Jimmy Page, Fujiko Mine, and Salem Cartier.

Each wrestler was complete in their own right. For all her talent and natural creativity, Ryan still worked hard for what she got. She was satisfied with achievements handed to her on a golden plate. The complete lack of discipline of others paired with their immature antics more than rubbed her the wrong way. Wrestling always had a way of showing how corrupted it was at times. Her eyes were always narrowed because of this. For a sport that was in her DNA, they were ruining what was once great.

She—valorous, terrific—a ruin, as if she is finite.

Heed this, great and cruel world: when your mountains have rolled flat against their lovers the valleys, and when the roots of the trees are all that are left, leeching clay from the soil to their ash-grey leaves, she will be, as ever, outstanding.

Every fiber of her limbs ached, burning with certain determination.

She was predator, they were prey.

MIAMI, FLORIDA - USA - 7:45[PM] (7/14/16)
NINA STOKES'S RESIDENCE

“Are you ever satisfied?” Nina inquired, there was a certain bass supplied to her voice. Ryan stared at her trying to form a retort, her eyes laced with a sudden confusion that was typical for her.

“What do you mean?”

They were in the middle of a heated argument. When they argued, tension seemed to be very thick. At times Ryan always seemingly wanted to head butt Nina, her ire always turned to sex, rough sex, sex on top of the kitchen table sex, the type of sex only seen in movies.

Nina’s jaw tensed up. “You’re always doing this,” Nina replied, her face rather red for her skin tone. “You always have to sabotage yourself – when you’re at your highest point.” Nina was obviously frustrated with how Ryan seemingly went from world beater to flounder inside of a two month span.

Ryan had pointed to herself, color her shocked. “Are you saying I was wrong?” her tension grew further along, “If you hadn’t noticed, I’ve got a lot on my plate right now—” she paused, correcting herself. “We’ve got a lot on our plate right now. We’ve been over this countless times.” Ryan unearthed, she kept her hues forward peering into Nina’s soul.

Nina’s hues peered back, they weren’t chasing for no woman nor man. “And you still don’t seem to get it.”

“I guess,” Ryan shrugged, throwing her hands up as she did so. Sometimes when they fought, it felt like they were going to come to blows – they always had a way of ignoring each others viewpoints, they always sought out the ‘correct answers’ out of each other – although this was all a result of them both being stressed, they weren’t normally going at each others throats like this. Ryan was holding back certain words. “I’m not a people person, you know this.” Her eye’s seemed to narrow as her anger intensified. “I’m not the one who’s out there befriending everybody,” Ryan said pointedly. “Making all the friends doesn’t get rid of the problem. It doesn’t get you anywhere. Where were you when I needed you most? You’re mad that I signed with FGA without your consent? If this was any other situation, you would’ve jumped for joy. Thanks for the support.”

Nina’s eyes peered down for a second. “I just want you to take your time and do it right.”

“I’ve taken enough time; I won’t continue to sit idly by. There’s no right or wrong way to go about this.” Ryan stated, folding her arms across her chest, looking rather crass with ease. “I consider this the boldest step I could’ve made.”

“Of course it is.” Nina agreed, trying to soften her features across her face “Frontier Grappling Arts has some premier talent, you know this. We’ve also witnessed firsthand its effects; it chews some people up and spits them out.”

“That’s only half-true. Look at Fujiko, she was behind the eight ball, and she’s doing just fine. Are you suggesting I don’t have what it takes to brave FGA? If that’s what you really think, you really don’t know me at all.”

The realization of this had just surprised her. “That’s it, isn’t it?” Ryan was in awe “You don’t think I can make a run in FGA. That has to be it. You wouldn’t have been so angry if it hadn’t been the case.”

Nina gave the blankest expression, even for her.

“It’s just you’ve been through a lot these past two months,” Nina offered, “You weren’t yourself. You were obsessed with leading a sinking ship. You were beyond stressed, taking vast amounts of punishment.” she was caught up in her words for only a second, “It’s hard watching someone who’s worked so hard only fall so short.”

Maybe she was right? Ryan couldn’t decide. “It’s not like I’m rubbing salt into my own wounds.” she smiled, despite being built up and razor sharp, was the most charming thing about her. It was the equivalent of a needle's edge piercing fine fabric and leaving a trail of thread.

“I won’t regret this, I promise.”

MIAMI, FLORIDA - USA - 12:15[PM] (7/19/16)
VITALITY MMA - LOCKER ROOM

A few days later Ryan found herself preparing for the worst. It had been a few months since she been to the gym. According to most of her teammates and friends, Vitality MMA made a far lonelier place without her. To remedy this she decided to pay the team a visit, more so, she was planning on working out her frustration. It was a known fact Ryan always trained to be the best; she had this thing, she always seemed to train herself to the brink. Furthermore, she slowly learned to go beyond that limitation every single time out – that was amazing – as a wrestler and a mixed marital artist.

Right about now she’s get wrapping up a boxing session, sweat beading down every part of her body. She didn’t like to sweat, but it was a sign that hard work was being put in, equivalent exchange. By now she’s focused, she knows she’s debuting in Frontier Grappling Arts against someone, the opponent wasn’t really clear to her yet.

It felt so good to be surrounded by her friends again. Friends, but with someone else to it, they were almost family, they all supported each other, and honestly, if Ryan needed anything they were always there, she didn’t want for anything as platonic as that sounded.

“Are you alright, Ryan?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

Andreas mused for a second looking her up and down before he said anything, “Something happen? You were snapping your punches out there; it was rather bizarre coming from you.”

Ryan sighed. “I got into a fight with Nina the other night. We went at it for a few hours,” Ryan revealed while raising a left hand that was still gloved.

“What you two fight about, if you don’t mind me asking?” asked Andreas, he interested just by how his eyebrow raised.

Ryan closed her eyes for a second, visualizing it all over again. “What didn’t we fight about? She’s worried about me, as always. She feels I’m rushing back into wrestling, she went off on me because she feels I’m selling myself short.” her words were pointy and sliced any trespassers who were brave enough to challenge her.

He nodded for a second without saying anything, as he rummaged through his duffle bag for looking something. “That’s weird, you two never fight.”

Ryan didn’t need any reminding, well done, Ryan. Way to line herself up for another round of Russian roulette. Everyone she told found it easy to side with Nina, she was always right in their relationship – Ryan begged to be right for once – she never made it known though.

“Did you find somewhere to sign with, like we talked about?” Andreas asked confidently while tossing a role of tape onto the bench, multitasking, he was trying to be moral support.

“Frontier Grappling Arts.” Ryan admitted as she unfastened her other boxing glove. Her voice was blunt, yet the name somehow still rolled off her tongue dripping with excitement.

Andreas froze coming to a complete stop studying her face. “I’ve seen footage on YouTube. Don’t you think that place is a little small?”

“No.” Ryan responded, “It’s the perfect place to figure out what’s best for me.” she tried to read his face for a moment, but he seemed to have a better poker face than most. “She brought that up,” Ryan told Andres “She didn’t outright say it. She implied it by substituting ‘small’ for ‘tough’ – actually, she implied a lot of things during the course of the argument – I wish someone would answer me this, why am I not good enough for FGA?”

He looked around for a second before saying anything.

“I don’t think she’s implying you’re not good enough. You’ve been through a lot, that’s a lot to take in. You’re getting married at the end of the month; I think she wants you to make down the aisle it in one piece?” Andreas consoled her a little bit, not enough to say that she was in his good graces.

“So What’s your plan of attack?” he questions, his words sounded very harsh and low. “You’re keeping a pretty hectic schedule, not to mention you’ve got a fight coming up, how are you going to handle it?” he sounded very judgment by the end of his question, any wrong answer could set him off, it was because he cared about her and Nina a great deal – well enough for one single guy to handle – he was no relationship expert.

“I’m going to do what I do best.” Ryan answered the question in two parts, posed in acidity and burning but there was a hint of announce in her tone, desaturated of all emotion. “I’m going to wrestle. Sure, I’m walking into uncharted territory. I know they’ll look to snuff me out. That’s what I want. I want to challenge myself, it’s that simple. It’s better than sitting around for the past two months in a promotion that was underdeveloped. That wasn’t easy for anybody. I just don’t want to make the same mistake with FGA,”

It was eerie how void of emotion she was towards the situation. Ryan threw the gloves at Andreas sending them careening towards him, he caught them effortlessly while she exited the room; studying them he tilted his head in bewilderment.

“Relationships are weird.”


//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////


The sound of an instrumental version of “Sleep” by Vince Staples echoed through the vision of what seemed to be a room that was pitch black, save for a single light suspended from the ceiling, the camera came closer towards the light and fixed itself to a point. At certain points of the broadcast there were jump cuts and digital errors in the footage that was displayed. Out of the darkness, Ryan Lecavalier appeared somewhat dressed down. She wore a gray “Muhammad Ali” Roots of Fight hoodie, the hood itself was up, also wore a pair of black form fitting skinny jeans, the cuffs rested on top of a pair of black leather Nikes. Where ever she was located her breath was visible, the cold didn’t seem to affect her much.

“If there’s anything I’ve learned over the past eleven years as a professional wrestler. It’s that no matter how many times I debut in a promotion, it’s always going to come down to the very first singles match: impressions are everything. Suddenly, now that I think about it, everything’s crystal clear.” Ryan’s eyes were very serious from underneath the hoodie. “I mentioned somewhere that I was looking for a fresh start – people took that for gossip – and it’s not. Because at some point or another, it’ll come down to something like this match that’s been set up for Tucson, Arizona – Saturday, July 23rd 2016 marks my Frontier Grappling Arts debut as a single’s competitor. From my understanding, I’m supposed to be taking on a really infamous name in Dom Harter.” Her eyes seemingly lit up at the mention of Dom Harter, who would serve as the villain to her story.

Just announcing the date gave her Goosebumps. She rubbed the top of her hand for effect, her breath still very hard against the view perpetrated by the camera.

“I hate to say it, but that’s not what I was expecting. When I signed onto FGA, I was interested in a name like Jimmy Page. All I got was a match with Dom Harter? It’s disheartening. I came to compete with the best. Dom, your best days are far behind you. I mean that with the utmost respect. How come they couldn’t pair you with someone else? I didn’t see anyone chomping at the bit to challenge you. You weren’t exactly fielding on comers for a belt or anything. I was at All-Star Showdown V in person, I watched your match with Izzy Anders and it told me everything I needed to know about you.” She shook her head, it was very apparent she disapproved of the match.

Her focus was undeniable, it was very chilling how focused she looked. The video filmed every little movement of hers, ever so often it would flicker providing dramatic effect, a light every now and then still with a string of current keeping the bulb alive. Wherever she was located, she was at least safe or something, the reason why she chose the location was to keep everything void of criticism. After all, Dom was a master of turning anything in his favor.

“As a matter of fact, as long as you’ve been in the business, you’ve never wrestled anyone like me. I’m a very rare breed. I’m one of a kind, often imitated never duplicated. If you think you broke a sweat in any of your previous matches, guess again, you’re about to be in for one of the longest matches of your career.” She stated confidently her intentions, “If you feel that me sharing the ring with you is some form of revolutionary test, you’re far more misguided than I thought. The Dom Harter of yesteryear is infinitely better than the Dom Harter of today. You’re nothing but a shell of your former self. I bet it took every fiber of your being for you just to put Izzy Anders away – yet this is a woman, who you’ve sworn vengeance against. I distinctly remember her winning the Mid-Atlantic Legacy Champion off of Noelle Smith, must’ve been a huge blow to your ego to know that she did it right in front of your face.” She looked towards the camera with a little bit of a glancing shot, biting her bottom lip feinting physical pain.

The camera flickered slightly it took a gray tone for few seconds then it returned to normal.

“My question for you is this; how are you exactly going to stop someone you know virtually nothing about? Think about it. From the time that opening bell rings, you don’t know shit about me. You don’t know how many hours in the gym I’ve spent, shows I’ve main evented, how many cities I’ve actually traveled to. I’ve missed birthdays and holidays; you know what that’s like? I’m sure you’ve sacrificed just as much as I have. I’d say we’re about even; you’ve got no clear-cut advantage over me.” She extended her hands and began clapping.

She suddenly stopped once she felt the point got across, looking towards a point in the floor she went into another comment.

“Without bringing anymore of my achievements into this conversation, you don’t exactly know how I’ll stack up. I’ll give you credit, you’re good at crowd control. You’ve had a lot of FGA fan believing in the hype. Is Dom Harter really a changed man? Quite frankly, I don't think it really matters – because whether you believe it or not – you’re walking into a match where you’ve got just about a punchers chance. There’s one thing you need to realize, I’m a former World Champion. It doesn’t mean much here, but that should suffice in giving you the hint on the type of pedigree you’re dealing with. I just don’t see how this match goes down in your favor.” Her blunt honestly bled through, showing a bit of her true grit.

If there was one thing she knew she inherited her family’s wrestling prowess to the fullest. She wouldn’t bow down to the likes of Dom Harter going into their match; she was deadest set against kneeling what was to be her debut.

“You can try to question my validity all you want – the only thing you’re hitting is the canvas, when I either submit you or knock you out. I sent you a tweet directly to you, because I wanted you to have a record of my presence. That way you can stare at it in the aftermath. I’m confident I can beat you. You have no heart. As black and nonconformist as it is, it’s vastly undersized. You can go ahead and blame it on your insecurities or something.” She nodded while emphatically rolling her eyes. Her voice seemingly was flat out rude; it was very known she didn’t care about Dom Harter at this point.

“Your personal demons are a serious issue. Sadly, I have to prove myself against you. It’s a substandard situation that’s borderline unfavorable, but here we are. I don’t know much about your tendencies in the ring; nevertheless I’m always up for a fight. You make one mistake against and the tides will change pretty quickly. I don’t plan on leaving any doubt. In fact, I suggest you bring all your experience and accolades to the ring. Wear your championship belts to the ring if you must. Turn back the clock, I want to best the best version of Dom Harter there ever was – because believe me when I say this, you’re a lot less important to this company nowadays than you think you are.”

By now she got real close to the camera everything was very clear and in focus while she kept the straightest face.

“By the end of the night the people will know who the better wrestler was between the two of us. Rightfully so, you can’t make me disappear like Izzy Anders – I don’t walk down dark alleys.” She said at a low tone.

In the end there was nothing but static.