Revival [Vs 'Scorpion' Veronica 'Ronnie' Strader]
Jan 17, 2024 23:59:15 GMT -5
"The Scorpion" Veronica Cain likes this
Post by tactilizingone on Jan 17, 2024 23:59:15 GMT -5
The year of 2023 would be remembered for many changes and shifts in the world of wrestling, and specifically, our beloved canvas that is Thunder Pro Wrestling. This would seem to be the normal state of flux for most years, in most wrestling companies, but astute readers will already know that TPW is a special locale for the grapple, grind, and GOAT-bitious. For one Larry Tact, it held a significance unlike any year before it in his career. After returning in 2021 with a heavy chip on his shoulder, he found the ruthless and callous path to the top lacked a certain resonance, in spite of his success. By the time 2023 came around, it prompted him to seek change, and change he was dealt in spades. If we were dealing in #TACTFACTS – as the Tactilizing One does – there had been the highest of highs, winning the International Championship versus a certified legend in ‘Chronic’ Chris Page, with an admitted assist by the Bull of the North (RIP - the R’s for RETIRED you blasphemes!). He also suffered excruciating lows, having that same title wrested from the grasp he vowed not to weaken in the face adversity. When it came time to bear down and power through, Larry found that he alone simply could not withstand the force of the Cabal, including the likes of that rapturous Alexander Marshall and that same ammonious Page. The worst of them, though, was the dastardly Peter Vaughn, who physically pinned Tact and took that title back. Larry still owed them all for their combined costing Larry, while he had gained a measure of retribution, and even seen his freshly minted ally and friend in The Raven liberate the International title, there was plenty more work to be done.
As the Tactilizing Narrator of this TPW stalwart’s story – that’s right, I’m here to let you know what’s what, who’s who, and how your humble Sage of the Squared Circle will keep on jiving and thriving! – I can say without a hint of dubiousness that if you thought this story had some turns in the past twelve months…
Just wait until you (and Larry!) gets a load of what 2024 has in store.
But let’s not dwell on the future. Let’s relish the present, where we have developments in progress!
Larry has been knee-deep in study since the Friday Night Fury card was announced. He would be facing none other than Veronica “Ronnie” Strader, a competitor he had never crossed paths with in a wrestling company until her arrival in TPW. Larry admires the tenacity and sharp skills – in and out of the ring – that this member of the Strader clan brought. Larry understands the purpose of this encounter, all too well, even though he hadn’t expected it so suddenly. It’s been something that had been earmarked to happen, regardless, and now the bell had tolled for their first-ever meeting in the ring.
Ironically, as Larry studies away with his On Demand Library, he’s been trying his hand at another Strader’s side hustle. Cara Strader gifted him some complimentary ‘samples’ of her gummies. She’s hounded him for months about it, and while Larry isn’t one to dabble in such things, he has to admit that there’s increasing evidence of the positives for moderate use. He realizes with each passing year that he isn’t going to bounce back from some of these matches without a little extra help. He integrates various methods, from the holistic to the hi-tech in order to achieve as much, and at this point, what’s the downside to give it a try? Of course, he isn’t sure about Cara’s suggestion to “Go big or go home, bruh!” on dosage… but he figures one to start will suffice.
That was almost two hours ago, and he’s beginning to wonder if he should have heeded the young Strader’s advisement. As he glances at the jar of gummies on the sidetable next to the sofa he sits on, he notices Princess Dragon, his pitbull mix, sitting at the door leading out to the porch. She stares at him, unblinking, and Larry recognizes this as the signal she needs to be released. With a grunt, he walks over to the door.
“You know what? I think I’ll join you, PD. If this candy doesn’t hit by the time I get back, I’ll take another.”
Donning winter wear to stave off the near single digit temperatures outside, he opens the door and steps out. Immediately, PD is off to the races, sprinting out onto the lawn of his in-laws ranch house, where he and Cindy were spending the weekend with their daughter, Morgan. Her parents couldn’t get enough of seeing their almosts two and a half year old, and Larry didn’t have any pressing obligations while he was on his winter recess from the ring.
“PD! Princess Dragon! Back to me here! Come on, now…” his calls turn to grumbles as he chases after the lean and speedy little tank. After conducting some ‘business’ of her own, PD is content to sniff around at the outskirts, and stabbing with flexed talons at the ice. Larry swears she’s waiting for him to get close before darting off, tail wagging. It only riles her up further when he gives chase.
Then she finds a loose board in the fencing around the yard, and slips through.
“PRINCESS DRAGON!!” Larry bellows, futilely of course. The responses he receives are a couple barks from other dogs around the neighborhood, probably fired up by the sudden stir. As Larry swears under his breath and approaches the fence, he sees there is a trail behind the fence. Unfortunately, his pet didn’t seem intimidated by the darkness nor deterred by the frigid climes. Larry hops over the fence, himself, and lands on the other side. There he finds a delicate set of footprints that belonged to anything but, and began to follow using his phone’s flashlight.
Waaaaaat… fooor… yuuu
Larry stops and looks around, hearing but not seeing the source. He trudges onward, ducking branches being weighed down by snow.
Dooo… allll… eeet! ... tee…
“Who’s there?” Larry calls out, certain he heard some voice this time. Flashing the light around, he cannot find sight of anyone. “Can you hear me?”
Mooooon…biiiing…
Looking upward, Larry spots a half moon in the sky. “What? It isn’t even a full moon. What is this absurdity?” He begins wondering if this is some sort of prank. He isn’t a fan. “What’s going on? Stop speaking in sparse phrases, I can’t understand! Are you in distress?” he looks around, shrouded in mostly darkness.
HALP…ing
Larry starts to see a clearing up ahead, but still no sign of anyone.
Shooon… re…reee…vaaay…vaaal
As he gets to the clearing, there isn’t a single soul to be found, but PD finally decided to perch on top of a hill that would make for super sledding. He follows her eyes to the sight of the New York City skyline.
“Well, this is part of the property value. Can’t beat the view, right PD?” Larry muses, sitting beside his pet and scratching her ears. He sighs, “We need to get you some training.”
Shoooon…
Larry whips his head around both ways, but nobody is there. He looks at PD, “You didn’t… happen to hear that?”
PD leans in, gives a couple sniffs, and licks his face before gazing back out at the skyline.
“That’s right… it’s Cara’s gummy!”
Larry fires up the drone camera once they return to the yard. A cone of light shines down onto him, and he looks up with his shaved head emitting vapor from the cold around him. It’s a comforting sensation for Larry.
“I’ve got to say, this year isn’t kicking off the way I’d imagined it. I’m feeling a bit out of my depth, but I’ll leave that for my feedback to Miss Cara Strader. At Friday Night Fury, I won’t be dealing with Miss Strader, though… I’ll be dealing with The Scorpion.”
Larry walks back to the fencing in the yard, trailing fingertips along the wood.
“Veronica, also not who I thought I’d be kicking off my 2024 TPW with. See, I had thought that seat would be reserved for one Peter Vaughn. I’m sure you can understand, Ronnie, it’s nothing personal. I know you were mere moments away from claiming the International Championship for your own, had it not been for some ill fated circumstances. I’m not much different, as I lost that very Championship thanks to ill fated consequences, for taking on Vaughn and the Cabal. Except I can say without hesitation… I haven’t gotten over it.”
He stops at a certain point in the fence.
“I’m not going to get over it until Vaughn pays for his machinations. I’m not talking about taking the title from him. I’m talking about his paying by my humble hands.”
A solid thud of the hand against the fencing sends it careening out and then back again.
“He’ll come back, of course. Cockroaches are rarely devastated by one hit. But as a matter of fact, the first blow was dealt… by your own kin.”
He smirks, and his countenance even betrays a hint of pride.
“Having had the honor of facing and teaming with Knox plenty last year, maybe our chats gave him something to chew on. But now, it looks like I’ve been thrown some red meat to divert my pursuit.”
He settles the fencing in its tactful place and walks away from it, the spotlight following him.
“Ronnie, in a way it’s a shame. We were going to do this on our terms, but now, it’s as if Alexander Marshall is using you like a pawn. I credit you for the ingenuity in this proposal you and The Raven have assembled. Want a shot at the top of this company? First, you have to be fed to the Scorpion. It’s a legitimate test, and one I’m going to indulge in acing, so I can secure a future International title match down the line. It would be better if it didn’t seem like a slight against you and Knox, and a distraction to me, orchestrated by the pallid powers of Marshall, who weakens as his Cabal does.”
He stops and reaches down, gathering some snow in his hands.
“But I cannot allow them to get the upper hand this time. We aren’t enemies, but you put yourself in line for this, Ronnie. You made yourself a target, and I know that’s something you have no fear of. I’m glad for that, because I won’t have any second thoughts about unleashing all the fury that has led me to this point. If you think that hasn’t included my share of brutal tests, look no further than Buried Alive Bricks versus Bam Miller – now retired. Facing the darkness-filled demon that is El Diablo Blanco in a Chairs match. He felt the cold steel resolve of TPW Strong.”
Working the snow in his hands is tougher than one may expect due to the ice. Larry hardly minds.
“You, though, may be the toughest test of them yet. That isn’t blowing smoke, either, considering you did win that insane challenge for the chance to challenge for the International title at anytime of your choosing, as you did. No, the reason is quite obvious to anyone who knows you, and the Straders. It’s balls to the wall, never stop until you’ve been stopped, and make yourself the best in any company. Period. Here’s a #TactFact for you, though… I’m not out to humble you. I’m not out to tactilize you, Ronnie.”
He holds up the snowball in the palm of a hand, a stoic look on his face.
“I’m here to show you that change is real… within me. I’ve made adjustments in the past year, and it wasn’t easy to achieve. I’ve had to face my own darkness and see if I can wield it to harness as my power, not my weakness. I told Peter Vaughn that I’d be back for the International Championship, and when I got there I’d be on another level. Now, we find out…”
“And if so, then I pass the test.”
He throws the snowball at the camera and it goes to static.
As the Tactilizing Narrator of this TPW stalwart’s story – that’s right, I’m here to let you know what’s what, who’s who, and how your humble Sage of the Squared Circle will keep on jiving and thriving! – I can say without a hint of dubiousness that if you thought this story had some turns in the past twelve months…
Just wait until you (and Larry!) gets a load of what 2024 has in store.
But let’s not dwell on the future. Let’s relish the present, where we have developments in progress!
💲💲💲💲💲💲💲💲💲💲
#TACTFACTS
▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲
Ironically, as Larry studies away with his On Demand Library, he’s been trying his hand at another Strader’s side hustle. Cara Strader gifted him some complimentary ‘samples’ of her gummies. She’s hounded him for months about it, and while Larry isn’t one to dabble in such things, he has to admit that there’s increasing evidence of the positives for moderate use. He realizes with each passing year that he isn’t going to bounce back from some of these matches without a little extra help. He integrates various methods, from the holistic to the hi-tech in order to achieve as much, and at this point, what’s the downside to give it a try? Of course, he isn’t sure about Cara’s suggestion to “Go big or go home, bruh!” on dosage… but he figures one to start will suffice.
That was almost two hours ago, and he’s beginning to wonder if he should have heeded the young Strader’s advisement. As he glances at the jar of gummies on the sidetable next to the sofa he sits on, he notices Princess Dragon, his pitbull mix, sitting at the door leading out to the porch. She stares at him, unblinking, and Larry recognizes this as the signal she needs to be released. With a grunt, he walks over to the door.
“You know what? I think I’ll join you, PD. If this candy doesn’t hit by the time I get back, I’ll take another.”
Donning winter wear to stave off the near single digit temperatures outside, he opens the door and steps out. Immediately, PD is off to the races, sprinting out onto the lawn of his in-laws ranch house, where he and Cindy were spending the weekend with their daughter, Morgan. Her parents couldn’t get enough of seeing their almosts two and a half year old, and Larry didn’t have any pressing obligations while he was on his winter recess from the ring.
“PD! Princess Dragon! Back to me here! Come on, now…” his calls turn to grumbles as he chases after the lean and speedy little tank. After conducting some ‘business’ of her own, PD is content to sniff around at the outskirts, and stabbing with flexed talons at the ice. Larry swears she’s waiting for him to get close before darting off, tail wagging. It only riles her up further when he gives chase.
Then she finds a loose board in the fencing around the yard, and slips through.
“PRINCESS DRAGON!!” Larry bellows, futilely of course. The responses he receives are a couple barks from other dogs around the neighborhood, probably fired up by the sudden stir. As Larry swears under his breath and approaches the fence, he sees there is a trail behind the fence. Unfortunately, his pet didn’t seem intimidated by the darkness nor deterred by the frigid climes. Larry hops over the fence, himself, and lands on the other side. There he finds a delicate set of footprints that belonged to anything but, and began to follow using his phone’s flashlight.
Waaaaaat… fooor… yuuu
Larry stops and looks around, hearing but not seeing the source. He trudges onward, ducking branches being weighed down by snow.
Dooo… allll… eeet! ... tee…
“Who’s there?” Larry calls out, certain he heard some voice this time. Flashing the light around, he cannot find sight of anyone. “Can you hear me?”
Mooooon…biiiing…
Looking upward, Larry spots a half moon in the sky. “What? It isn’t even a full moon. What is this absurdity?” He begins wondering if this is some sort of prank. He isn’t a fan. “What’s going on? Stop speaking in sparse phrases, I can’t understand! Are you in distress?” he looks around, shrouded in mostly darkness.
HALP…ing
Larry starts to see a clearing up ahead, but still no sign of anyone.
Shooon… re…reee…vaaay…vaaal
As he gets to the clearing, there isn’t a single soul to be found, but PD finally decided to perch on top of a hill that would make for super sledding. He follows her eyes to the sight of the New York City skyline.
“Well, this is part of the property value. Can’t beat the view, right PD?” Larry muses, sitting beside his pet and scratching her ears. He sighs, “We need to get you some training.”
Shoooon…
Larry whips his head around both ways, but nobody is there. He looks at PD, “You didn’t… happen to hear that?”
PD leans in, gives a couple sniffs, and licks his face before gazing back out at the skyline.
“That’s right… it’s Cara’s gummy!”
💲💲💲💲💲💲💲💲💲💲
#TACTFACTS
▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲
Larry fires up the drone camera once they return to the yard. A cone of light shines down onto him, and he looks up with his shaved head emitting vapor from the cold around him. It’s a comforting sensation for Larry.
“I’ve got to say, this year isn’t kicking off the way I’d imagined it. I’m feeling a bit out of my depth, but I’ll leave that for my feedback to Miss Cara Strader. At Friday Night Fury, I won’t be dealing with Miss Strader, though… I’ll be dealing with The Scorpion.”
Larry walks back to the fencing in the yard, trailing fingertips along the wood.
“Veronica, also not who I thought I’d be kicking off my 2024 TPW with. See, I had thought that seat would be reserved for one Peter Vaughn. I’m sure you can understand, Ronnie, it’s nothing personal. I know you were mere moments away from claiming the International Championship for your own, had it not been for some ill fated circumstances. I’m not much different, as I lost that very Championship thanks to ill fated consequences, for taking on Vaughn and the Cabal. Except I can say without hesitation… I haven’t gotten over it.”
He stops at a certain point in the fence.
“I’m not going to get over it until Vaughn pays for his machinations. I’m not talking about taking the title from him. I’m talking about his paying by my humble hands.”
A solid thud of the hand against the fencing sends it careening out and then back again.
“He’ll come back, of course. Cockroaches are rarely devastated by one hit. But as a matter of fact, the first blow was dealt… by your own kin.”
He smirks, and his countenance even betrays a hint of pride.
“Having had the honor of facing and teaming with Knox plenty last year, maybe our chats gave him something to chew on. But now, it looks like I’ve been thrown some red meat to divert my pursuit.”
He settles the fencing in its tactful place and walks away from it, the spotlight following him.
“Ronnie, in a way it’s a shame. We were going to do this on our terms, but now, it’s as if Alexander Marshall is using you like a pawn. I credit you for the ingenuity in this proposal you and The Raven have assembled. Want a shot at the top of this company? First, you have to be fed to the Scorpion. It’s a legitimate test, and one I’m going to indulge in acing, so I can secure a future International title match down the line. It would be better if it didn’t seem like a slight against you and Knox, and a distraction to me, orchestrated by the pallid powers of Marshall, who weakens as his Cabal does.”
He stops and reaches down, gathering some snow in his hands.
“But I cannot allow them to get the upper hand this time. We aren’t enemies, but you put yourself in line for this, Ronnie. You made yourself a target, and I know that’s something you have no fear of. I’m glad for that, because I won’t have any second thoughts about unleashing all the fury that has led me to this point. If you think that hasn’t included my share of brutal tests, look no further than Buried Alive Bricks versus Bam Miller – now retired. Facing the darkness-filled demon that is El Diablo Blanco in a Chairs match. He felt the cold steel resolve of TPW Strong.”
Working the snow in his hands is tougher than one may expect due to the ice. Larry hardly minds.
“You, though, may be the toughest test of them yet. That isn’t blowing smoke, either, considering you did win that insane challenge for the chance to challenge for the International title at anytime of your choosing, as you did. No, the reason is quite obvious to anyone who knows you, and the Straders. It’s balls to the wall, never stop until you’ve been stopped, and make yourself the best in any company. Period. Here’s a #TactFact for you, though… I’m not out to humble you. I’m not out to tactilize you, Ronnie.”
He holds up the snowball in the palm of a hand, a stoic look on his face.
“I’m here to show you that change is real… within me. I’ve made adjustments in the past year, and it wasn’t easy to achieve. I’ve had to face my own darkness and see if I can wield it to harness as my power, not my weakness. I told Peter Vaughn that I’d be back for the International Championship, and when I got there I’d be on another level. Now, we find out…”
“And if so, then I pass the test.”
He throws the snowball at the camera and it goes to static.
FADE OUT
