Post by TheLaw on Nov 26, 2016 13:48:21 GMT -5
"She's not coming."
The voice talking clearly belongs to Dominic Lawson, as one could easy tell from the hoarse tone and the strong irish accent. Whoever he's talking to though, that remains a mystery, as he's the only one sitting on the bench right outside the First Arena in Elmira NY.
"That explains quite a lot, don't you think? That tells you exactly how much I matter in this company. I ask for a fucking interview and hey don't even send the cute girl over."
He spits on the ground, disdainfully.
"I bet they are all too busy counting the 7.5 K dollars to pay Drew Stevenson. It shouldn't be too difficult though, they can take my check for the next fifteen shows and give them to him already. They can hand him over the Alpha Cup too, for what I'm concerned. Even the title, I bet it will look good between the dozens of his other championships."
Not even trying to hide the bitterness, and maybe a bit of envy for all the accomplishments his opponent got in his career, and this aura of legendary fighter that inevitably follows his name, The Law stares now right into the camera.
"I have this picture in my mind, I can see the wannabe director, the clairvoyant and the Donald Duck of pro wrestling sitting at a table, being at a loss because they can't find the Resilience Championship, and the Paramount Title is like Schrödinger's cat, nobody can actually tell if it's in the case or not. Even though this place is doing great, because of what WE do in that ring, they are looking like a bunch of fools. In comparison to them, the Three Stooges look like three Nobel Prizes. They desperately need to come up with something extraordinary, an idea that potentially makes them look less dumb. Something way more big than a deal with Channel Ocho actually... It would have probably been Kassandrah, who looks like the one who has a tad more of a clue of how things work, standing up and announcing that they should hire some big name, someone who can turn the whole wrestling world eyes to the AWE. Someone like Drew Emerald.
And who cares if this looks like they are spitting in the face of the whole division?
Who cares if this sounds like 'Hey people, since you're not good enough of a competition for Fantana, who's still the champ even though the only belt he has is the one keeping his pants from falling, we had to hire someone who can get the job done. Someone who has more accolades than hair on Cuppola's head. Someone like Drew Stevenson.'
And I bet they thought about giving him an easy one on his first match. Someone with a big zero in his win column. But not a pretty and expendable young face like Benny Stevens or Austin Gale, not someone the fans love, like Carmen or Trinity... Let's give him someone nobody gives a fuck about, someone who people enjoy seeing beat up because he represents the antithesis of the American Dream. Someone whose career has been a complete failure, with no chance of redemption. Let's give him Dominic Lawson"
The Law now stands up from the bench, as he starts walking back and forth nervously. These words are affecting him, almost as he's coming to realize the truth behind them as he speaks.
"Drew Stevenson. Everybody knows you man. Everybody knows how good you are and it's actually great to have you in the AWE. I mean it. At least, I know you can back up the hype you come with, unlike some other superstar who loves to add a curse word between his name and surname. Still, your signing surprised me.
I know for sure it wasn't for the money, I bet you can make more than that just for signing autographs in this very parking lot, without even breaking a sweat.
It can't be just because you noticed your collection is missing the Invisible Resilience Championship. So why are you here Drew? Why, as you said, you WANT to be here?
You have been the best wherever you went, your name is always written with huge capital letters on the billboards of the biggest promotions, you filled Arenas all over the world, and yet you don't lose a chance to get yourself booked for indy companies who wrestle in front of a couple dozen fans.
I tell you why. Actually, I'm giving you two options."
He slowly raises his right hand's index.
"You are a good Samaritan. You know that your name on the card will bring asses to the seats, and you help young companies starting off with a bang, generating that buzz that will help him carry over for a while. The investment they made to sign you, with a huge discount on your usual fee from the good of your heart, as you love to keep reminding everyone, will definitely be worthy when they sold out the event. That would be really sweet, if it was actually true...
But I don't think that's the case. I believe it would be something more like the second option."
His hand now has the middle finger raised too, forming a V with the index.
"You do it to feed your ego. Walk in a new place, crush the dreams of young wrestler who are striving to make a name for themselves and the hopes of older ones desperately willing to reignite their careers... You love it don't you? Walking inside a locker room so smug, so full of yourself and looking at everyone up and down, you take pride on it, right? It makes you feel so good seeing the look they throw you, that mix of fear, respect and resignation because they know that, at the end of the night you will run through them, and not because you're THAT much better of them, no... Because you're Drew fucking Stevenson, and your name means something in this business.
That feeling... You crave it. You thrive on it. It probably turns you on too, I don't really know.
One thing I know, I won't give this to you, Drew. You won't get this satisfaction from me. Look into these eyes Drew..."
The camera quickly transitions to a close-up of Dominic Lawson. His fingers, still in the same V gesture, are now placed behind his brown eyes.
"Can you tell me what you see here Drew? Is this the same look you see when you stare at some rookie who grew up idolising you? Is it the same look you saw in Anne Droid's eyes in Japan, as she was walking to the ring intimidate by your majestic presence, knowing that she has close to zero chance to beat you?
No... This is something different right?
I don't fear you Drew.
And, fuck me, I don't respect you either.
Sure I respect what you've done, but I can't really say the same for what you've become.
You're a junkie, buddy.
You are addicted to this idea you're the biggest shit around that you can't stop prove it to everyone, including yourself. That's why you feel this urge to walk in every gym in this country and show how good Drew Stevenson is. That's why you have to cannibalize every title you lay your eyes on, so that no one else can have it.
Because no one except Drew Stevenson can be number one, am I right?"
Sasha Sloan finally reaches the Arena, parking her car and approaching the door, apparently clueless of what's going on. Noticing Dominic Lawson there with a camera, she stops on her track, watching the scene from a safe distance unwilling to disturb him.
"On december 4, I might be hopeless. Hell, everyone surely thinks I am. And make no mistake, I know what gigantic challenge I have ahead of me. But unlike you, unlike everyone else, I don't think my chances coming our match are zero. I know I have one chance. One in a hundred? In a thousand? Maybe in a million.
But there it is, this one chance actually exists. That's all I need.
One chance to make things right for me, one chance to turn over my career. This one chance is all I ever had, and all I have left. I can see it, every single day of my life, standing right there, just slightly out of reach. And every loss, I can see it drifting apart, sliding further. But it's still there, I know it.
I have nothing to lose Drew. I'm already at the bottom of the division, another loss can't really push me anywhere more down the ladder. But it won't be the walk in the park you expect this to be. I'm not going to be the sacrificial lamb they assumed I will be. If I am to go down, so be it. But I promise you won't be the same man you were before stepping in the ring with me.
IF...
That's the key word.
Look at me Drew, look at my life. I don't know what resignation means. If I did, I would have given up a long ago, I will be serving hamburgers in a shitty McDonald wearing that stupid red and yellow uniform, smiling at all those people as I watch them slowly killing themselves eating junk. Instead, here I am in Alpha Empire Wrestling.
So go on, do your things... Talk trash, make fun of who I am and what I have done, like literally everyone else did before you. Keep being the cocky son of a bitch we all know you are, or tell people that you respect me, I don't really care.
Bring your A game or don't, it's your call. Take what's left of my dignity and use it to make yourself look good.
But you can't take that one chance away from me."
It's just now that Dominic notices the interviewer standing a few steps away from him.
"About fucking time! You took your time young lady!"
Sasha moves closer, the look on her face tells us she has no clues what he's talking about.
"Excuse me?"
"We had an interview scheduled for like an hour ago. Not like i really need you right now, so you can move on and go polish your nails or whatever..."
The girl checks her smartphone shaking her head.
"I.. I am sorry mister Lawson... Are you sure about that? This is the first time I hear this."
"I called someone upstairs, they said they were going to page you."
"Oh my, I believe there has been some miscommunication then. I sincerely apologize, mister Lawson. The least I can do is offer you my services right now, even though I have nothing prepared."
"Don't sweat it, I'm done already anyway. You..."
He turns to the cameraman.
"Make sure my opponent see this. Don't fuck up."
The Law walks back to his old Nissan Sentra opening the door and sitting behind the wheel. The engine, for a change, ignites at the first attempt, allowing Dom to drive away from the Arena.
The voice talking clearly belongs to Dominic Lawson, as one could easy tell from the hoarse tone and the strong irish accent. Whoever he's talking to though, that remains a mystery, as he's the only one sitting on the bench right outside the First Arena in Elmira NY.
"That explains quite a lot, don't you think? That tells you exactly how much I matter in this company. I ask for a fucking interview and hey don't even send the cute girl over."
He spits on the ground, disdainfully.
"I bet they are all too busy counting the 7.5 K dollars to pay Drew Stevenson. It shouldn't be too difficult though, they can take my check for the next fifteen shows and give them to him already. They can hand him over the Alpha Cup too, for what I'm concerned. Even the title, I bet it will look good between the dozens of his other championships."
Not even trying to hide the bitterness, and maybe a bit of envy for all the accomplishments his opponent got in his career, and this aura of legendary fighter that inevitably follows his name, The Law stares now right into the camera.
"I have this picture in my mind, I can see the wannabe director, the clairvoyant and the Donald Duck of pro wrestling sitting at a table, being at a loss because they can't find the Resilience Championship, and the Paramount Title is like Schrödinger's cat, nobody can actually tell if it's in the case or not. Even though this place is doing great, because of what WE do in that ring, they are looking like a bunch of fools. In comparison to them, the Three Stooges look like three Nobel Prizes. They desperately need to come up with something extraordinary, an idea that potentially makes them look less dumb. Something way more big than a deal with Channel Ocho actually... It would have probably been Kassandrah, who looks like the one who has a tad more of a clue of how things work, standing up and announcing that they should hire some big name, someone who can turn the whole wrestling world eyes to the AWE. Someone like Drew Emerald.
And who cares if this looks like they are spitting in the face of the whole division?
Who cares if this sounds like 'Hey people, since you're not good enough of a competition for Fantana, who's still the champ even though the only belt he has is the one keeping his pants from falling, we had to hire someone who can get the job done. Someone who has more accolades than hair on Cuppola's head. Someone like Drew Stevenson.'
And I bet they thought about giving him an easy one on his first match. Someone with a big zero in his win column. But not a pretty and expendable young face like Benny Stevens or Austin Gale, not someone the fans love, like Carmen or Trinity... Let's give him someone nobody gives a fuck about, someone who people enjoy seeing beat up because he represents the antithesis of the American Dream. Someone whose career has been a complete failure, with no chance of redemption. Let's give him Dominic Lawson"
The Law now stands up from the bench, as he starts walking back and forth nervously. These words are affecting him, almost as he's coming to realize the truth behind them as he speaks.
"Drew Stevenson. Everybody knows you man. Everybody knows how good you are and it's actually great to have you in the AWE. I mean it. At least, I know you can back up the hype you come with, unlike some other superstar who loves to add a curse word between his name and surname. Still, your signing surprised me.
I know for sure it wasn't for the money, I bet you can make more than that just for signing autographs in this very parking lot, without even breaking a sweat.
It can't be just because you noticed your collection is missing the Invisible Resilience Championship. So why are you here Drew? Why, as you said, you WANT to be here?
You have been the best wherever you went, your name is always written with huge capital letters on the billboards of the biggest promotions, you filled Arenas all over the world, and yet you don't lose a chance to get yourself booked for indy companies who wrestle in front of a couple dozen fans.
I tell you why. Actually, I'm giving you two options."
He slowly raises his right hand's index.
"You are a good Samaritan. You know that your name on the card will bring asses to the seats, and you help young companies starting off with a bang, generating that buzz that will help him carry over for a while. The investment they made to sign you, with a huge discount on your usual fee from the good of your heart, as you love to keep reminding everyone, will definitely be worthy when they sold out the event. That would be really sweet, if it was actually true...
But I don't think that's the case. I believe it would be something more like the second option."
His hand now has the middle finger raised too, forming a V with the index.
"You do it to feed your ego. Walk in a new place, crush the dreams of young wrestler who are striving to make a name for themselves and the hopes of older ones desperately willing to reignite their careers... You love it don't you? Walking inside a locker room so smug, so full of yourself and looking at everyone up and down, you take pride on it, right? It makes you feel so good seeing the look they throw you, that mix of fear, respect and resignation because they know that, at the end of the night you will run through them, and not because you're THAT much better of them, no... Because you're Drew fucking Stevenson, and your name means something in this business.
That feeling... You crave it. You thrive on it. It probably turns you on too, I don't really know.
One thing I know, I won't give this to you, Drew. You won't get this satisfaction from me. Look into these eyes Drew..."
The camera quickly transitions to a close-up of Dominic Lawson. His fingers, still in the same V gesture, are now placed behind his brown eyes.
"Can you tell me what you see here Drew? Is this the same look you see when you stare at some rookie who grew up idolising you? Is it the same look you saw in Anne Droid's eyes in Japan, as she was walking to the ring intimidate by your majestic presence, knowing that she has close to zero chance to beat you?
No... This is something different right?
I don't fear you Drew.
And, fuck me, I don't respect you either.
Sure I respect what you've done, but I can't really say the same for what you've become.
You're a junkie, buddy.
You are addicted to this idea you're the biggest shit around that you can't stop prove it to everyone, including yourself. That's why you feel this urge to walk in every gym in this country and show how good Drew Stevenson is. That's why you have to cannibalize every title you lay your eyes on, so that no one else can have it.
Because no one except Drew Stevenson can be number one, am I right?"
Sasha Sloan finally reaches the Arena, parking her car and approaching the door, apparently clueless of what's going on. Noticing Dominic Lawson there with a camera, she stops on her track, watching the scene from a safe distance unwilling to disturb him.
"On december 4, I might be hopeless. Hell, everyone surely thinks I am. And make no mistake, I know what gigantic challenge I have ahead of me. But unlike you, unlike everyone else, I don't think my chances coming our match are zero. I know I have one chance. One in a hundred? In a thousand? Maybe in a million.
But there it is, this one chance actually exists. That's all I need.
One chance to make things right for me, one chance to turn over my career. This one chance is all I ever had, and all I have left. I can see it, every single day of my life, standing right there, just slightly out of reach. And every loss, I can see it drifting apart, sliding further. But it's still there, I know it.
I have nothing to lose Drew. I'm already at the bottom of the division, another loss can't really push me anywhere more down the ladder. But it won't be the walk in the park you expect this to be. I'm not going to be the sacrificial lamb they assumed I will be. If I am to go down, so be it. But I promise you won't be the same man you were before stepping in the ring with me.
IF...
That's the key word.
Look at me Drew, look at my life. I don't know what resignation means. If I did, I would have given up a long ago, I will be serving hamburgers in a shitty McDonald wearing that stupid red and yellow uniform, smiling at all those people as I watch them slowly killing themselves eating junk. Instead, here I am in Alpha Empire Wrestling.
So go on, do your things... Talk trash, make fun of who I am and what I have done, like literally everyone else did before you. Keep being the cocky son of a bitch we all know you are, or tell people that you respect me, I don't really care.
Bring your A game or don't, it's your call. Take what's left of my dignity and use it to make yourself look good.
But you can't take that one chance away from me."
It's just now that Dominic notices the interviewer standing a few steps away from him.
"About fucking time! You took your time young lady!"
Sasha moves closer, the look on her face tells us she has no clues what he's talking about.
"Excuse me?"
"We had an interview scheduled for like an hour ago. Not like i really need you right now, so you can move on and go polish your nails or whatever..."
The girl checks her smartphone shaking her head.
"I.. I am sorry mister Lawson... Are you sure about that? This is the first time I hear this."
"I called someone upstairs, they said they were going to page you."
"Oh my, I believe there has been some miscommunication then. I sincerely apologize, mister Lawson. The least I can do is offer you my services right now, even though I have nothing prepared."
"Don't sweat it, I'm done already anyway. You..."
He turns to the cameraman.
"Make sure my opponent see this. Don't fuck up."
The Law walks back to his old Nissan Sentra opening the door and sitting behind the wheel. The engine, for a change, ignites at the first attempt, allowing Dom to drive away from the Arena.