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Deja Vu 2 (Fuck You Too); featuring Martin Robertson and Grady Smith
Topic Started: Jun 8 2016, 09:04 PM (24 Views)
Haven
EWA CEO, Majority Owner
“whatever I was then, I can’t ever be again”

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June 1st, 2016
New York State Thruway
3:45 AM

Alexander Haven sat silent in the dark of the official Youth tour bus. The only light emanated from the television and the occasional streetlight from the road outside. Stretched out on a couch, with a pillow propped up behind his head, his gaze was solely focused on the television displaying old footage from the NYSWF. Specifically, a match between Grady Smith and himself, for the NYSWF world title.

The match that had haunted him for the last fifteen years of his life.

“...your winner, and NEW NYSWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION, HE IS THE PARAGON OF VIRTUE, GRADY SMITH!”

“Can you believe it?! A nine time World Champion of our sport! A record that will stand for many years...perhaps forever! Alexander Haven was simply outmatched this evening!”

Onscreen, as Grady celebrates, Haven rolls out of the ring. In the background of the shot, an agitated Haven exits the ring, and bumps directly (and perhaps purposefully) into NYSWF President Corey Collins. The two share a brief but heated exchange, before Haven disappears out of the shot and Collins continues on clapping for Grady Smith at ringside.

Corey fucking Collins. The biggest Grady Smith mark there ever was.

Well, besides the man himself.

Ninety three days, he had held that title that Grady Smith now held above his head. When he’d won it, it had been the happiest moment of his life. He felt like he truly belonged in the business. Belonged in the main event. He was poised to take off as the face of the company, who had thrown its weight behind him after yet another contract dispute with the notoriously difficult Grady.

In a year, he’d won his first world title, broke the record for longest consecutive days as NYSWF champion, and won the promotion’s Triple Crown. He’d become a household name in the wrestling industry before most of his peers could even learn to lace their boots. With a bright future ahead, there was nothing that could stop him.

What a naive kid.

Haven rewound the match to the beginning. He’d honestly lost track of how many times he’d watched it, at this point, but it never seemed to get any easier. No matter how many times he started it over, the ending was always the same.

That was the thing about trying to change the past. Over time, he’d learned to adopt a different strategy - prevent the future. Stay three steps ahead of your opponent at all times. Never let them get to you, and if they do, make them pay.

Grady Smith had never paid.

Sure, taking Grady’s own son, Martin Robertson under his wing had done a great deal of damage to Grady’s pride, but it wasn’t enough to pay off the debt he owed to Haven. In truth, Alex actually liked Grady’s kid - a fact that surprised him, he found. Initially, he had seen the young man simply as an opportunity to get inside Grady’s head - but over time, he grew to see him as something more. Someone with true potential in this business. He was just...a little rough around the edges.

Growing up without a father will do that to a boy.

Haven stood from the couch, walking over to the fridge and retrieving a bottle of Labatt Blue.

“Beer me, bro.”

Martin Robertson emerged from the sleeping quarters of the bus, wearing a pair of gym shorts and a tank top featuring a kitten wearing sunglasses. Haven glanced at the shirt, and rolled his eyes, handing Martin a bottle.

“Where’d you get that thing? The juniors department at Kohl’s?”

“No way, man. Ordered it online. Kanye designed it!”

“It’s a tank top with a cat wearing sunglasses. What’s there to design?”

“I mean, you gotta decide what kind of cat...and then what brand of sunglasses...and what style...”

Haven sat back down on the couch, as Martin took a seat one the opposite sofa.

“Nevermind, I’m sorry I asked. Can’t sleep, kid?”

“Look who’s talking. Last time I was the one up in the middle of the night watching Grady footage.”

The atmosphere on The Youth bus was always dramatically different following a loss, and the previous night’s loss to the team of Grady, Laura, and Azrael Goeren was no exception. Now, Chris Kage found himself in a four-way match for the EWA World Championship at Path of the Warrior...and on top of that, Grady Smith had goaded Kage into defending his belt at Battlelines XIV as well.

“Yeah, well, it seems your father sure has a talent for keeping the both of us awake at night”

“Surprised Chris isn’t up. He was really worked up after the show.”

“Yeah, well…a bottle of Jack will help any man sleep. Besides, Chris shouldn’t let Grady get to him so easily….and now we’ve got two of his title defenses to worry about now…”

“You don’t think Chris can handle Grady?”

“Oh, I know Chris can handle Grady. He can mop the floor with him twice over without any of our help whatsoever.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Put it this way, Marty. You know those things everybody says about me, right?”

“That you’re the most brilliant mind in wrestling and one of the greatest of all time?”

Haven laughed, and took a sip of his beer.

“No, not those things...although true as they might be, and thank you for that...I mean what they really say about me. That I’m a manipulative, egotistical megalomaniac?”

Martin feigns a look of shock.

“People say that?! About you?! Well I never!”

“Who do you think I learned it from?”

Haven lifted a finger towards the television, displaying the midsection of Grady and Haven’s match for the NYSWF title. Grady is unloading right hands on Haven in the corner, as Haven struggles to free himself and the ref asks Grady to break at the count of ten. Grady ignores him briefly to get a few more punches in, before backing off. The crowd cheers wildly as Haven falls to the mat.

“As much as I hate to say it, your old man and me are a lot alike. There’s one major difference, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I care about more than just myself. I care about my family too.”

He studied the reaction on Martin’s face as he finished speaking, eager to see how it registered with Grady’s own son. Martin displayed no visible reaction save for a small smirk, but Haven couldn’t help noticing how much he looked like his father. Instead of responding to the statement, Martin changed the subject.

“So how did you and my da-I mean, Grady meet?”

Haven laughed as he ran a hand through his beard, shaking his head.

“So it was shortly after my debut…year 2000…backstage at the NYSWF arena…”





A young Alexander Haven emerged from the curtain that separated the bowl of NYSWF Arena from the “gorilla position” backstage, as he’d recently come to known it as. Most wrestlers waited years, toiling away on the independent circuits, honing their craft and just hoping to be noticed by a promotion like the NYSWF. In that time, they had the benefit of learning the ins and outs of the business – and all the inside terms - from guys who had been in their position before.

The wrestling industry spit men up and chewed them out, and inevitably, after reaching the pinnacle of the wrestling world and finally having a run in a top promotion, most competitors would eventually find themselves right back in the same bingo halls, VFWs, and high school gymnasiums they started their careers in. It was a long way down, and some men chose to be bitter and angry about their fates. Still, others chose to impart that wisdom upon the next generation. To leave the sport in a better place than it was before they came and went.

Alexander Haven had never had the benefit of such a mentor. Rising so quickly through the independent circuits, he was signed to the NYSWF just shy of his twentieth birthday. With the exception of his childhood friend Chris Kage, also an NYSWF competitor now, he hadn’t formed any bonds with “the boys in the back” in the independent circuit, and he was more than determined to make sure he fit in with the rest of the NYSWF locker room now that he'd made the big time.

As he grabbed a towel from a basket backstage, he wiped his face off. As he removed the towel from his head, restoring his vision, he found a lone man suddenly standing in front of him. Not just any man, however.

A legend.

Grady Smith.

Only seven years his senior, Grady had already been an eight time World Champion – a record Haven hoped to mirror one day. Still, there was a lot to learn before he reached those heights, and he didn’t want to get ahead of himself.

Simply making a good first impression with an icon like Grady Smith would be a solid start.

“Wow, the Grady Smith…I’ve been hoping I’d run into you so I could introduce myself…I’m-“

“I know who you are, kid.”

“You do? I mean, great! I obviously know you who are as well. It's an honor to finally meet you.”

Haven extended his hand towards Grady, preparing to give the firmest handshake he possibly could. He used his spare hand to continue wiping the sweat off his head and chest – more of which had appeared since Smith had seemingly materialized in front of him. This was the most nervous he had been during his time in the NYSWF thus far – and that included his debut match, where he felt his heart was about to break free of the confines of his body and smash out of his chest onto the mat.

Grady Smith stared down at Haven’s outstretched hand, remaining motionless. Slowly his gaze turned back to Haven, who remained frozen. Finally, he retracted his hand out of sheer embarrassment. Smith did not speak, so he felt compelled to break the silence.

“Not a handshake kind of guy, I get it. Anyways, I just wanted to let you know what a big fan I am of your wo-“

“Save it, kid. Everybody’s a fan of my work. I hear the same thing from every damn rookie they drag through this place.”

“Sorry…I meant no disrespect.”

“Listen, kid. I don’t need your respect, or your disrespect. I need one thing and one thing only from you.”

This was not the Grady Smith he had been expecting, but nonetheless – this WAS Grady Smith. The Grady Smith he watched week after week on television. The same Grady Smith he grew up idolizing. The Grady Smith that showed no respect to anybody or anything, and who fancied himself God’s Gift to Wrestling.

A shame that nickname had already been taken.

Instead, Grady referred to himself as “The Paragon of Virtue,” among many other nicknames. That particular nickname however drew chuckles from the boys backstage, for reasons previously unknown to Haven. Now it had become crystal clear. Much like his on-screen persona, it appeared the last thing anybody should ever call Grady Smith was “The Paragon of Virtue.”

During his short time in the NYSWF, Haven had found that competitors were not exactly encouraged to “be themselves.” Instead, they were often packaged into personas that at times couldn’t be farther from their true personalities – all in the name of presenting soap opera like “drama and intrigue,” as he’d already heard Corey Collins say about a thousand times since arriving.

It appears Grady Smith was not playing a role, however. It appeared Grady Smith was just…Grady Smith. At this point, Haven had become agitated. He’d attempted to show Grady Smith the respect he felt he deserved, and not a single ounce of decency or respect had been reciprocated to him.

“And what’s that, Grady?”

Haven spoke in a sharp tone – a far cry from the beginning of their conversation. He had gone from being a wide-eyed kid finally meeting his idol two minutes ago to being resentful of the fact they’d ever had any interaction to begin with. Like a kid at DisneyWorld who followed Mickey Mouse around the corner and watched him remove his head for a smoke break.

“Stay out of my way.”

Grady took a step towards him, in an attempt to intimidate the young man. Haven returned his gaze, unflinching from his advancement.

“No promises, Grady. I’ll see you in that ring someday.”

Smith kept his gaze on him, as he took a few steps backwards towards gorilla position for his match. Unwilling to break their staring contest, neither man averted their eyes. The tension between the two competitors had caught the eye of several backstage, including fellow wrestlers and production crew members, who all stopped what they were doing to see exactly how it played out. The whole backstage area became strangely silent, save for the noise leaking through from the arena.

He would never forget the laugh that originated from his former idol. It felt like it started at the tip of his toes and slowly worked its way out of his body, before roaring out of his mouth in a mocking manner.

“Not likely, pal. Keep dreaming.”

With that, Grady Smith wheeled around as his music hit, and marched through the curtains, to a thunderous ovation from the NYSWF faithful. It had become clear in a matter of minutes that this – the NYSWF – was Grady’s house, and he had just been labeled as an unwelcome intruder.

He now understood why other members of the locker room had regarded his own wide-eyed optimism as laughable. When asked why, one had related it to marriage. His words had stuck with Haven.

“Wait until the honeymoon is over…and then you’ll see how things really work around here.”

Even Michael Draven, the man who would soon become his worst enemy, was wise enough to see the landscape of the NYSWF. To see what every other member of the locker room was up against.

He was right.

The honeymoon had been very short, but it would take more than threats from a sad excuse of a man to make him run for the hills. The wide-eyed kid act wouldn’t survive around here, he realized. So why not take a page from Grady Smith himself?

If Grady Smith didn’t want Alexander Haven in his house, then he’d burn it down and build a new one.

A better one.

His house.

The house of Haven.




“Anyways...I won’t bore you any longer. After all - you know your dad well enough.”

Martin took a swig of beer, staring off at the television which was now close to the finish of the Grady vs. Haven match once more. When he spoke, he spoke without the usual bravado and confidence Haven had grown to associate with the young man.

“I don’t know my father, Alex. That’s the thing.”

Haven set his empty bottle down on the table beside him, but didn’t speak, content to let Martin continue.

“I played lacrosse as a kid. Every game, I ran out onto the field and surveyed the crowd to see if my father was there. Nine times out of ten, he wasn’t. Out on the road again. Mom would say he was doing it for us. To provide us with the quality of life that we lived. To make sure I had the best opportunities in life.

But the tenth time? The few times he actually did show up? He’d preach to me about being a good teammate and practicing good sportsmanship. He’d tell me to look after my mother. To always be there for your family, because family came first in life.

When he was gone, I’d beg my mom to let me watch his matches. Watching him on the television was the only connection I had to him when he was on the road, except for a phone call here or there.

Imagine hearing your father preach to you about all those things - sportsmanship, respect, and family - and then seeing what he went out and did, week after week, on national television.

I’ve spent my entire life trying to figure out who the real Grady Smith is - and it wasn’t until I met you, and became part of this - this family we have built here - that it all became clear. He’s a hypocrite.”


Haven wanted to smile, but felt doing so would give the wrong impression to Martin. Instead, he leaned forward, and put a hand on his shoulder.

“This family, Marty?

This family is forever.”

He had never been prouder of the kid.
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