Riot on Broad Street RP: Opening Up. Apr 22, 2018 23:44:08 GMT -5
Post by TCM on Apr 22, 2018 23:44:08 GMT -5
Stop me if you've heard this one before: curtain less window wakes up tired boy due to the perfect placement of the sun on his bed. No cute guy lying with me this time though...tomorrow though, we'll see. Something has felt a little different though these last few days. I don't just roll over on my side to avoid the sun, I stretch out as far as my limbs will take me but I rise out of bed with some pep.
It's always a great feeling, being about to wake up in the morning and feeling great about it. Truthfully, I don't have very many of those mornings often. Winning against Frank Lynn in my first match back was much needed for me. Why make a big fuss about returning if you're not gonna back it up? Now, I've put my name on the map just as quickly as anyone else.
I feel great...and yet, something feels incomplete.
Soon afterward, I get a notification on my phone. It's a text, from April.
April [in text]: Well aren't you coming up in the world, let's celebrate. Meet me at the spot.
Heh. That's new. Actively trying to celebrate decisions I've made. Maybe she's made progress of moving on.
Mak [in text]: Sure. But you're paying.
April [in text]: For me. Don't know how you're paying for yours.
Mak [in text:] Haha.
Part of me wishes I just took the L, I forgot how much Belmont sucks for parking. Finally got my car out of the shop. Protip, next time you think about getting impatient and cutting in front of someone, you just might run yourself into a unfortunate-sized pothole. I love Chicago, but like I once heard in a poem: "This city will look great once it's finished." Yeah. A poem. I'm sophisticated like that.
"The spot" by the way is nothing more than a grilled cheese spot. Hey, I just won an important match, I think I've earned the empty carbs a grilled cheese gets you. And besides, Cheesie's is an institution. I just wish it was a place that had a parking lot. Even April is blowing up my phone wondering where I am. Eventually though, after the seemingly infinite amount of time I spent circling the blocks, I find a decent enough spot a couple blocks down.
One eventful couple minutes' walk later, I see April right next to the leftside window of Cheesie's, the table we usually get whenever we're here. We haven't been here for a while, but it holds a lot of history between us. Lot of late nights spent here talking, enjoying ourselves, and the cheese curds here aren't terrible either. Once I go inside and walk towards our table, she actually meets me halfway and even hugs me, catching me off-guard a bit.
Mak: Whoa. A hug.
April: You act like we haven't hugged before or recently.
Mak: Usually it's me having to coax one out of you.
April: Well, sometimes, it's nice to change things up every now and again.
Fair enough, I suppose. We go up to order our food and after some cleverly worded friendly conversation on her part with the cashier turned into me paying for everything, because I am a gentleman and that's what he does for his lady friend. She's definitely covering next time though. We head to our table and waste no time in enjoying our meal.[/font] [/span][/div][/i]
April: Congrats, by the way.
Mak: Gotta say, I am favoring this praise I'm getting from you.
April: Yeah, well, don't expect it too often now.
Mak: I mean, you do know what my next match is, right?
April: You mean there's a next match? I know you won, but you didn't completely stink up the joint?
Mak: You just love busting my balls when it comes to me wrestling, huh?
April: Better me than someone wringing you on a turnbuckle.
Mak: Given the way your words sting, I can't be too sure about that. Anyway, I'm facing Lynn again. For the title.
April actually chokes upon hearing that. Or maybe she pretends to. It's loud enough a couple people from the nearby bar actually look over although she alleviates their concerns with a thumbs up.
Mak: OK, there's only so much I'm willing to take before you're just taking the piss.
April [laughing]: Alright, fine. That's cool. I'm happy for you. Really.
Mak: Happiest you've been about me and wrestling in a while.
April: I can't exactly be completely comfortable with you being back there.
Mak: Here we go.
April: "Here we go." Come on now, Mak. We've had this conversation before. It's kinda why we decided to break it off. I saw what that company did to you. I saw what your insecurties about leaving did to you. I was there for you every step of the way.
Mak: And then all of a sudden, you were giving me an ultimatum.
April: I was tired of my *husband* becoming distant in a relationship that should be more balanced. Exactly what am I supposed to do when the love of my life sees me more as a roommate than a spouse?
Mak: Can you blame the depressed one for-
April: No. You don't get to do that. You don't get to frame me as the bad guy. I get it. You're a prideful person, Mak. Maybe even the most prideful person I know. I know full well what your depression can do to you. I was the one who had the front row seat the entire time. And it made me depressed, too. Like I somehow lacked the ability to get you out of it.
Mak: You didn't "lack" in anything. I shouldn't have closed myself off from you. You were the one person I shouldn't have, really. If anyone's to blame for us, it's me.
April: See, that's the depression talking. Despite my blowing up at you just now, I don't...I don't hate you for it. I don't blame you. If I did, I wouldn't be having this now awkward conversation in a public setting.
And now comes that awkward silence where I want to say something but my head just feels cloudy. I catch April chuckling about something.
Mak: What's the laugh for?
April: That goofy look on your face when you can't figure out what to say.
Mak: Good to know I can still find ways to entertain you.
April: You're a very entertaining person when you aren't a stubborn fool.
I'm not saying that I just knew I was gonna win that night...but I'm really proud of myself that I did. I know I'm probably sounding like a broken record at this point, but hey, that's just the awkward truth about my WFWF career: there's not as much to go on about than I would like. I guess I could give myself some credit; I wasn't just someone who was around for a couple of cards and then just fell off the face of the planet. I was...someone who was around for a while and then fell off the planet.
I wasn't a nobody...but I wasn't a somebody, either. But sometimes I wonder, is that just what being in this business is about? Being a "somebody?" Sure, the higher the fame, the higher the paycheck, but with all the fame comes the baggage: the expectations to maintain your place, the sharks in the water the moment they smell blood whether it's a personal vulnerability, a professional mishap or actual, literal blood. That weighs on you, and so many have crumbled under that weight.
I think that's what I was scared of: crumbling under that weight, for one reason or another. And the moment I felt like it had started, I left. Agency is important in this business, especially in a place like this, and I promised myself that I would dictate when and how I leave. And that promise still rings true today. I am not going to let myself be added to the snuff film that is seeing some of the most infamous personalities to step foot in a WFWF ring on a stretcher.
Which is why I find the prospect of Frank Lynn so refreshing. Yeah, some of my words have been a little more...incendiary than people may be used to. I saw a man take a moral high ground, hammer it home into people's heads, and then flip-flop between them worse than a player on Survivor. I actively challenged the man to prove me wrong about the type of person he was and give me a stiff, but fair fight. Wanted to see the type of man he actually is.
And he showed me he's every bit the man he says he is. And that's what makes the victory that much sweeter. He had just as much to prove as me, the sullied champion whose reputation was on the line, so he had to keep it clean, he had to do it right. So what happened?
He let the returning star show him up when he wanted nothing more than to make a statement to the world. Ouch. Really though, that's gotta sting, Frank. Now, you didn't go down quietly, you needed a couple Cross-Outs to go down, so I have to give you credit. You are one tough bastard.
But you're also one distracted bastard.
I guess no one should be surprised that someone didn't pay as much attention to myself as I like to think someone should when they're in that ring, but even amongst all the effort everyone saw and I most certainly felt, you got a lot on your plate. Personally, you about to have a family. Man to man, I give you all the props for that. It's something I never really wanted to subject myself to, not while I'm here. I know the real life consequence not wanting that sort of thing has, so I genuinely wish that kid to be well.
Professionally, you got the boss breathing down your neck, and I'll admit, the power struggle you got going on there is kinda cute. That was a nice one-up there you pulled on Lila there. But while you're busy trying to prevent administrative consequences, let me give you a little bit of advice from a vet:
1. Be wary of mixing your personal life with your professional life in a place like this. I recommend distance, and I think your significant other wants to see you come home in one piece. Don't want to scare the baby because it can't recognize its own father.
2. Don't forget about the in-ring consequence you so clearly did not think would be there.
Because I may be self-aware about it, but nothing grinds my gears more than someone not giving me their undivided attention in that ring. I don't like it when people can create excuses as to why I beat them. Even if you never take the bait of an out like that, I don't want to give people the ability to have one. The next time you show up to a fight with me and your head is not 100% in the game, you're gonna realize you went from having two babies back down to just one.
But lo and behold! It turns out that fight will come sooner rather than later! Because now, our rematch is for your International Championship. It's a title I never won...to be fair, I never won any title around here but I never had an one-on-one opportunity for it.
I'm just thinking back to what I said before about how people change around here once they can taste that gold, and I gotta be honest, beating you was akin to a drop of that gold hitting my taste buds and damn, I can't say I didn't enjoy that. And I'm sorry Frank, but this is something I want.
I came back for one thing: redemption. I didn't want to come back just to be some flash in the pan, I wanted to come back and make a statement, I wanted to tell the locker room and tell the world, what I am truly capable of. I beat the International Champion my first night back. What's a better statement than that?
Well, I guess winning the International Championship during my second one. Main Event, too. That's a bonus. You could have put this match in the dark match slot, and I would have the exact same motiviation I have now. You got the title, Frank. You got the growing family. I'm jealous. Envious, even. I thought maybe one day, I would have been in your spot. So although I'm truly happy for you and I wish you the best...
...I don't wish for you to win. The ideal life just can't last as long as I'm chasing the title. I'm not going to pretend to be sadistic and claim to want to tear your world apart and leave your family fractured because a child won't get to grow up without a father.
I'm not looking to end your career. I'm just here to take your championship. I beat you once. The pressure is on you. Yet I'm the man desperate to validate a career. If there's gonna be a Riot at Broad Street, it'll be one of celebration. But I'm not going to get ahead of myself here.
I'll just leave that to you, Frank.