Post by Seth Iser on Jun 2, 2014 19:33:22 GMT -6
We are always trying to challenge our own mortality in different ways…most of which by trying to create a legacy that even an immortal would quake at. It is something that drives any man, no matter how selfish or unselfish to give almost anything to pursue the riches that this dangerous goal provides for not just themselves but for their descendants…their friends and even their rivals. It doesn’t matter their profession…everyone wants to be the man or woman that holds all the power and to be able to manipulate people into doing what they please because of this kind of power…the very rare kind of power that can change your own mortality.
It’d be such a fruitful endeavor if it wasn’t for our own flaws that humanity has both cursed and gifted us with. The things that…for the majority of my life I’ve ironically masked away…hiding either behind a physical one or behind cold piercing eyes the wall of emotions that can eat away at you…make you lose perspective on everything…even your own mortality if your pride and ego are big enough to blind you. Hell, it can even make you forget some of the wonderful things you’ve accomplished in your professional and personal life.
But this is forever the curse of someone who admittedly can be too ambitious for his own good. That ambition…along with the emotions that have surfaced after years of repressing…years of bottling them up and pretending things are alright…and the need to lash out and make the people responsible for these negative emotions finally feel every ounce of suffering you’ve had to endure your entire life leads to destructive goals…for others or yourself depending on how things play out. The bad part about being thirty-three instead of twenty-three is you need to be more selective and make damn sure you’re on the mark or this burning ambition will smolder you into ashes.
I’m going to make Reya Sera burn from the demonic blackness that exists in her own heart…after I force her to unleash it in front of the entire world one way or another…and there isn’t anyone that’s going to deny how good I am at both the physical aspect of wrestling or the mental aspect of how to dissect somebody’s brain.
Yet even if I succeed there’s still one thing that’ll forever be that dull blade twisting and turning in the pit of my stomach…the small kind of dull pain that builds gradually over time before you lash out before everyone…and that’s no matter what I do…no matter how many championships I’ve looked to attain…I’ll never be looked at…in the eyes of both my peers and the god damned fans that buy our tickets as a guy who did his craft well; a man who worked his ass off to become one of the best wrestlers to ever lace up a pair of boots. I’ll never be looked at like Matt Slater…or my sister Vanessa.
And yet she has a burning ambition…to get the people that love her so much that she can do no wrong…to jeer and boo her like they’ve done for me for most of my ten year professional career as a wrestler. I can tell in her…and especially that alter ego of hers…that they drive off of being discounted by the masses…and in The Queen’s case…she feeds off of the disdain of other wrestlers…and people just to throw it right back at you with an almost inhuman kind of viciousness…that is if you let that side of her come to play…to try to feed off of that…or try to seek out what I’ve always held…yet the ironic thing is I’d crave to have a day in her shoes where I’d never have that worry over my shoulders for my daughter’s sake because those damned letters still have a place in my brain.
The grass is always greener on the other side Noish told me. Took nine years before I completely understand what that statement truly means. It’s in human nature to crave what you don’t already have. She’s craving to deal with the burden I seem almost destined to carry; I drive myself to the point of mental and physical exhaustion to have the unbridled respect and admiration that she carries among her peers and fans. Though if things are going to hold true to form…because of the ignorance that’s in the hearts of these people and the lack of forgiveness that they’ll ever have…neither of us are going to get what we desire at least from the people.
But that’s why just as much as anything…that I need to defeat her just like I did her sister Reya just like she probably feels deep down she needs to beat me. We need to see, as wrestlers, where we’re both at…and if we let our minds wander into anything else…like I could with thinking about dealing with Reya or Slater…and that’s a recipe for disaster. It’ll be like looking in a reflection in a way…seeing the same type of fire we both possess…the demonic drive we both can push ourselves to in order to achieve it and the knowledge we both have of what one another can do in the squared circle.
This won’t be easy to do though…since there is that part of me that genuinely cares for Vanessa as a person…however…the desire hell this need… to have that immortal legacy I’m gunning for…overrides any sort of negative emotion in doing what I need to do. If this means going through the entire Janason family…one by one…to emerge victorious and Reya Sera a broken heap mentally and physically of a human being…then so be it. If that means finding a new concoction to beat my sister Vanessa…then I’ll do that too.
My legacy will become immortal…and there is nobody in this industry at this point…that can stop me and my drive from achieving it.
The quaintness that is Mankato, Minnesota has some similarities to back home where both Urban and Rural lifestyles mesh. The strong emphasis of nature with all the trees is blended with the modern display of buildings show the two sometimes conflicting lifestyles find their own sense of peace…like the yin and yang principle in the old Daoist philosophy that was popular in the ancient history of China…but through that we can certainly take something from that as fact. Light and Darkness, rural and urban…hell even religious and atheist…none can exist, survive and thrive without the other.
“And yet at the core of those opposites…the human mind in all of us is more similar than different…” I mutter to myself before curling my lips into a faint smile, “Even if it’s the differences we all gravitate to in one fashion or another.”
The swirl of wind pours through straight from Canada with that bite that I’m not quite used to yet. The trees dance vividly showing their life after the barren winter just months earlier while the houses show no signs of flinching. With a frown, I just cross my arms and continue marching in this quiet evening to keep my mind off the stresses of the road and wrestling for just that faint moment. Even if this sport is the greatest thing that has ever happened to be…it’s also the worst thing. Just like any form of opposites that have that one similarity there.
“What a paradox…” I darkly mutter as the wind blows my black hair all over my face, “But gifts are always curses and the opposite is true if you know where to look.”
My train of thought is interrupted by the buzzing in my pants pocket. With a sigh I just shrug my shoulder while brushing the one stubborn stray lock that always seems over my forehead away from my face before reaching into my blue jeans pocket to pull out the trusted cellphone. The wind blows through the blue and black dragon designed t-shirt I have that has the Japanese language logo for ‘Respect’ (尊敬) on the back. After flipping open the old flip phone I shrug to see that its Moretti that sent me the text and instinctively read it out loud.
“Meet me at the old brothel down the road…there’s a surprise for you…” I read quietly before my tone I realize what I just said out loud, “Motherfuc---god dammit Moretti. Bad enough you have a strong case of foot in mouth tweeting with that phone…then you use that damned device to tell me this?”
I close the phone while bawling it up in a fist with my right hand before I aggressively stuff it in my pocket continuing to mutter obscenities before I shutter to think what kind of trouble he got himself in. Knowing him…considering I’m facing Vanessa…he’s dealing with someone on caffeine high before the bouncer or the actual boyfriend shows the sadistic side of both fronts and he’s grilled in the worst way. This absentminded thinking makes me bump into a kid because I didn’t watch where I was going.
“H-hey!” I hear a squeaky voice call out after the contact.
“Oh…” I dart my eyes around before tilting to my left to see who I bumped into, “Sorry.”
The kid seems like he’s maybe about nine years old…with the dreaded bowl cut hair style but after I glance at the t-shirt for the slightest moment I freeze before hiding the obvious irritation and disgust. It’s obvious now he’s a wrestling fan with the old Court t-shirt he’s wearing with everyone that’s ever been a part of that stable. It includes myself, Reya, the Queen Vanessa, and Slater. I go to turn back around after its obvious he’s okay if only a little shaken up before he calls out to me after a couple of steps.
“Hey!” he shouts, “Where are you going?”
“Need to take care of some things…” I reply while not making eye contact…just telling him enough of a portion of the truth, “Farewell, kid.”
“Wait…” the kid pauses for a minute before he connects the dots, “You’re Seth Iser! I knew I heard that voice on television before!”
“Shit…” I curse under my breath before turning to face him with a scowl.
“I used to think you were so cool when you wearing the purple themed attire of the Court…standing up for honor and justice!” he beams with a smile.
The smile is heartwarming to most but just by looking at him…I don’t think that smile is completely sincere because he obviously wants something from me…like most wrestling fans do even if they can’t stand my guts and that’s an autograph to make money off of down the line while trying to find a way to make sure I don’t get a percentage of the cut with my own likeness on it. Like artists…we’re consistently asked to provide something for free when we really shouldn’t.
“Is that so…” I reply lowly…biting my tongue on what I really want to say.
The other thing I wish he along with various other fans would stop mentioning is that group…a group where at this point in my life…I disdain the majority of the members with a burning passion. The Court had a noble purpose as to why it got together…but then I found out that the one thing they claimed they yerned for…is dead. Honor in our society is deceased…and you can’t fight for something that no longer truly exists in the minds and hearts of humans.
“Yeah, you, Vanessa and Reya made a fun bad guy kicking trio. You were like superheroes or something even better than that!” he continues excitedly.
“Good and evil are subjective….” I offer up with a scowl, trying to maintain my composure.
“Yea but…everyone says you’re nothing but evil,” the kid retorts.
“Whose teaching you those lies, kid?” I twitch my eye, barely holding my rage.
“They aren’t lies!” A more feminine voice screeches through.
A woman sprints into the picture just glaring at me with piercing eyes that are similar to a parent protecting their kid and I end up hiding the faintest of smiles that at least selfishness hasn’t tampered with us completely in terms of our morals. The woman is maybe five foot three but judging by her disposition she’s a spitfire just glaring at my face…trembling with hate. After a second to study me…she figures out who I am…and that rage seems to rise within her and I’m hiding a smile for a different reason.
“You’ve become nothing more than a selfish man who uses everyone and everything to keep himself where he’s at!” she’s shrieking, “Don’t you dare poison my son with your ideas.”
“You’re doing a good enough job yourself by being close-minded,” I retort with my arms crossed and a more nonchalant expression.
“Says the man who has hurt everyone for no reason!” she snaps back.
“Mother…” the kid weakly mouths.
With a half of a smirk I just turn my back and start walking toward the destination that Moretti sent for me. The hatred she’s pouring out would be enough to make a normal man’s skin crawl but when it comes from the misinformed…I can’t help but thrive on it. The hatred from those who live a lie pales in comparison to the absolute passion I can unleash when I bring them the truth…and that hatred stems from a different type of fear…the fear that you’ve lived a lie your entire life when the truth smacks you down…humbles you and realizes you’ve been wrong the entire time.
“You’re not half as good of a person as Vanessa, Reya, or Slater! They still embody that symbol that you took away! They are the true selfless ones!” she shrieks.
“Keep preaching the lie woman…because you don’t know what Vanessa secretly wishes for.” I shake my head stopping that slight moment to reply to her, “You’re angry and wanting to protect that kid I know…but instead of just trying to look at things from sheer black and white…learn to realize there are many colors in between because no one person is as selfless as they appear…and no one person is as selfish as they appear. But if you don’t…you contribute to the problem society has!”
“I think I should just pray for your soul…” she mutters, “It’s tainted and twisted.”
“Praying doesn’t do shit for the world. Only your own will power and action…” I sneer before walking away.
The last dagger seems to be the one where I broke her spirit to argue back and as I walk away…I can just sense that hatred turn into shock. You can break a person physically but there’s other ways to break a person’s spirit or psyche if you know where to look. The further I march down the street though…the more I dart my eyes for the one sleazy looking building in an area that’s got more of a blue collar workmanship mentality. I just let out a disgruntled sigh while I just scan my eyeballs across the road and well maintained sidewalk with the trees hanging overhead…continuing my pursuit.
Unfortunately…much like Vanessa…I can’t predict when it’ll come…what I’ll find…or even who I could find if I anticipate it’s the kind of surprise Vincent Moretti goes for. After a moment of shuttering I find the one standout building that has that sleeze. This one building has a couple neon lights that scream that it might’ve been a candidate to become a stripper joint…but the rumor was in older days…the more broken down wooden buildings with a couple of floors and a couple of rooms was an ideal place for prostitutes and their customers…and in a way it makes me cringe considering how I was years and years ago.
“Tch…if Vanessa saw me years ago when I was on the drugs and frequented scandalous places like this…I doubt she’d believe we were the same person…” I frown before shrugging, “Maybe she would though…never know what goes through her mind half the time…but I know she’d make some sort of…comment about Dawn’s bust in a place like this.”
With a shrug I approach the wooden door…glancing back and forth, almost paranoid, in case that woman overcame her shock and tried to stick a knife into me from sheer fury. The door is maintained fairly well for a building I assume could be at least a couple hundred years old. The walls have a fresh coat of paint, and even the windows, unlike most old buildings I’ve ventured into in the past, are sparkling new and well maintained. With a sigh, I open the door.
“Hello?” I dart my eyes guardedly.
The main room has a carpet and a couple of couches which gives it more of a lobby setting. The green couches are well maintained even if there’s just the slightest bit of dust on them. To my right is what looks to be a check in desk but considering the lack of lights…I’d assume it’s abandoned for now. The mental tour I’m giving myself is interrupted by the shrieking voices of both a male and a woman from somewhere in the building. The look on my face when hearing that might be equated to someone biting something too sour.
“Upstairs…” I cringe before regaining my composure, “Maybe?”
With a shrug I locate the stairs in front of me and put my left hand on the rail just in case either of my knees locks up on me. After starting the climb the shrieks of…lust are growing louder. I just glance at the paintings of the walls that put off elegant clothes of what a ‘woman in society should be like’ before sneering in disgust for a second at how that’s another way of deliberate control. After reaching the top step, my irritation and anger starting to pour over the emotional mask I usually put on, I slowly dart my eyes looking for the exact room of where this…surprise will be.
“You want it harder you dirty hooker?” I hear Vincent’s voice.
“Oh fuck…” I sigh, the rasp in my voice more sinister than normal.
The hallway here has seven doors on each side of the hallway as well as a couple vending machines in case you need something to drink…a rare source of modern innovation in more of an older building. Soon enough I just dart my eyes and using my senses to try to pinpoint the exact location of the sound. My eyes pick up on a little sign on the doorhandle of the third door on the left and after I approach it…even I can’t help but let out a faint laugh.
“Do not disturb sign…” I bark up a laugh, “That’s classy.”
“Let me show you the real dildocopter!” Moretti’s voice screams.
“What the FUCK!?” I roar at the mention at that toy and bust through the door.
“AYIEEEEEEEEEEEE! WHAT THE HELL!?” A female shriek goes off that has a strong Mexican accent to it.
“Oh…shit!” I wince.
“THIS IS COCK BLOCKING YOU BASTARD!” Moretti’s high pitched voice follows before he realizes who I am, “Oh…hi Seth.”
Before they let out the scream…I know Vincent was plowing her in missionary before they both, as soon as they heard the door leaped under the covers to…fortunately not completely expose themselves in front of me…the woman looks horrified as Moretti’s mood lightens up slightly before he reaches to the right of his bed to light a cigarette…as if to say his job was done already. The prostitute is just glaring holes at me…don’t know if she’s more offended if I walked in on her time or my looks…but the latter of which is the harder of the two to deal with because of how shallow those people like that one kid’s mother are.
“You do realize we’re not in Vegas right now, right?” I sneer.
“If you don’t cause a huge disturbance or problems with people in the street they tend to look the other way,” Vincent replies with a devilish smile and an almost forked tongue.
“Okay then…” I hesitate before getting to the point, “What’s the surprise you were planning?”
“Oh…” Vincent beams, “Get a load of this…you know this woman here…I got her sister just for you in order to get your mind off of things. She’ll be hear in a few and we’ll leave you alone. A happier man’ll perform better in the ring.”
“What good is a temporary release when as soon as you focus back on the task at hand…you’re even worse off?” I sneer back.
“Vanessa’ll never turn down such a chance if her assistant offered her…” Moretti smiles in that sinister manner.
“Who would want to be with a disgusting person like him?” the blonde, fake breasted prostitute bellows out.
“You’d be surprised…” Vincent smirks, “Besides…maybe this kind of aggression can prepare you for a different type of relationship with Vanessa. Eh? Eh!? You ought’a try being loose like her on things or release yourself on women like that…”
“Not my lifestyle anymore…” I sigh, “She has her own fun ways to prepare for tasks at hand…and she can more than take care of herself. This just isn’t my lifestyle anymore…mainly because you can’t produce anything by ignoring your issues for too long. Even when she has fun, she doesn’t do that. What you’re suggesting falls into that trap.”
“But I wanted to be a friend, man…” Moretti smirks.
“Just take them both then. You already paid for them I presume…you focus on them because I’d rather prove my ability this week…alone…” I sneer, “I’d also like to teach her a lesson she won’t forget in that ring…that you can’t always get what you want. She desires what I have in terms of…disdain just like I desire the respect she has in the industry. We can’t get what we crave if we sit here and do nothing or pray like Reya does. It’s all about your actions and your words…”
“Bu—“ Moretti goes before I exit the room.
The door shuts with a click and I leave the two lustful companions to go back to what they were doing though I doubt they’ll be able to continue with that…aggressive interruption I had…but my way is the only way that works for me. Sure you can pick up ideas here and there but you have to do what’s best for you…and my best is serious preparation and the idea that the truth shines through any lie if you’re persistent enough.
And right now at times…even with the silliness she projects and the coffee she spilled on that one fan…part of me thinks she might not be herself completely.
Any action you do take however…in that ring I best be careful…because she’s probably got my matches in memory considering how many times I’ve spoken with her about the sport to teach her some of those subtle little tricks and seeing her apply them in her own manner. I can’t take credit though…she’s always been that good…hell that entire family…Cera and Reya are good at different aspects of the professional wrestling game.
The thing is…in life you always have to do things you don’t want to…even if its part of a better passage and even with what we know of each other…Vanessa and I couldn’t be anymore opposite. Yin and Yang…if you will…and knowing this…I’m expecting one of the tougher matches I’ll ever lace up my boots for. Maybe one of the most grueling mentally after what I’ve endured and the kind of games she can play to infuriate someone.
But it makes it all the more satisfying to defeat her.
The part of making that…mark to have that legacy that passes down…and the part to where you won’t ever get families like that questioning things you’ve done ignorantly is to show them exactly what you’re capable of every single night, getting better at some aspect of your craft every single time out there…and coming away with multiple championships. I’m not as decorated as a champion as I should be…because for years I didn’t apply myself the way I should have…lost my way in drugs, alcohol, and even the rock and roll lifestyle.
This…is still on the path of my redemption…and nobody is going to take this away from me.
Not Matthew Slater behind that mask he hides behind.
Not Reya Serra no matter how much she prays for herself and others.
Not Vanessa despite her own gifts.
Nobody’ll stop me…when I prove the truth…about everything. I’ll win this match. I’ll continue down the path of exposing the demons in Reya’s heart and the ones she creates just by sitting and preying…and despite the objections her sister Vanessa will have toward me…it’s something I have to do…in order to fulfill my legacy.
And gain the respect in this industry that I crave.
It’d be such a fruitful endeavor if it wasn’t for our own flaws that humanity has both cursed and gifted us with. The things that…for the majority of my life I’ve ironically masked away…hiding either behind a physical one or behind cold piercing eyes the wall of emotions that can eat away at you…make you lose perspective on everything…even your own mortality if your pride and ego are big enough to blind you. Hell, it can even make you forget some of the wonderful things you’ve accomplished in your professional and personal life.
But this is forever the curse of someone who admittedly can be too ambitious for his own good. That ambition…along with the emotions that have surfaced after years of repressing…years of bottling them up and pretending things are alright…and the need to lash out and make the people responsible for these negative emotions finally feel every ounce of suffering you’ve had to endure your entire life leads to destructive goals…for others or yourself depending on how things play out. The bad part about being thirty-three instead of twenty-three is you need to be more selective and make damn sure you’re on the mark or this burning ambition will smolder you into ashes.
I’m going to make Reya Sera burn from the demonic blackness that exists in her own heart…after I force her to unleash it in front of the entire world one way or another…and there isn’t anyone that’s going to deny how good I am at both the physical aspect of wrestling or the mental aspect of how to dissect somebody’s brain.
Yet even if I succeed there’s still one thing that’ll forever be that dull blade twisting and turning in the pit of my stomach…the small kind of dull pain that builds gradually over time before you lash out before everyone…and that’s no matter what I do…no matter how many championships I’ve looked to attain…I’ll never be looked at…in the eyes of both my peers and the god damned fans that buy our tickets as a guy who did his craft well; a man who worked his ass off to become one of the best wrestlers to ever lace up a pair of boots. I’ll never be looked at like Matt Slater…or my sister Vanessa.
And yet she has a burning ambition…to get the people that love her so much that she can do no wrong…to jeer and boo her like they’ve done for me for most of my ten year professional career as a wrestler. I can tell in her…and especially that alter ego of hers…that they drive off of being discounted by the masses…and in The Queen’s case…she feeds off of the disdain of other wrestlers…and people just to throw it right back at you with an almost inhuman kind of viciousness…that is if you let that side of her come to play…to try to feed off of that…or try to seek out what I’ve always held…yet the ironic thing is I’d crave to have a day in her shoes where I’d never have that worry over my shoulders for my daughter’s sake because those damned letters still have a place in my brain.
The grass is always greener on the other side Noish told me. Took nine years before I completely understand what that statement truly means. It’s in human nature to crave what you don’t already have. She’s craving to deal with the burden I seem almost destined to carry; I drive myself to the point of mental and physical exhaustion to have the unbridled respect and admiration that she carries among her peers and fans. Though if things are going to hold true to form…because of the ignorance that’s in the hearts of these people and the lack of forgiveness that they’ll ever have…neither of us are going to get what we desire at least from the people.
But that’s why just as much as anything…that I need to defeat her just like I did her sister Reya just like she probably feels deep down she needs to beat me. We need to see, as wrestlers, where we’re both at…and if we let our minds wander into anything else…like I could with thinking about dealing with Reya or Slater…and that’s a recipe for disaster. It’ll be like looking in a reflection in a way…seeing the same type of fire we both possess…the demonic drive we both can push ourselves to in order to achieve it and the knowledge we both have of what one another can do in the squared circle.
This won’t be easy to do though…since there is that part of me that genuinely cares for Vanessa as a person…however…the desire hell this need… to have that immortal legacy I’m gunning for…overrides any sort of negative emotion in doing what I need to do. If this means going through the entire Janason family…one by one…to emerge victorious and Reya Sera a broken heap mentally and physically of a human being…then so be it. If that means finding a new concoction to beat my sister Vanessa…then I’ll do that too.
My legacy will become immortal…and there is nobody in this industry at this point…that can stop me and my drive from achieving it.
The quaintness that is Mankato, Minnesota has some similarities to back home where both Urban and Rural lifestyles mesh. The strong emphasis of nature with all the trees is blended with the modern display of buildings show the two sometimes conflicting lifestyles find their own sense of peace…like the yin and yang principle in the old Daoist philosophy that was popular in the ancient history of China…but through that we can certainly take something from that as fact. Light and Darkness, rural and urban…hell even religious and atheist…none can exist, survive and thrive without the other.
“And yet at the core of those opposites…the human mind in all of us is more similar than different…” I mutter to myself before curling my lips into a faint smile, “Even if it’s the differences we all gravitate to in one fashion or another.”
The swirl of wind pours through straight from Canada with that bite that I’m not quite used to yet. The trees dance vividly showing their life after the barren winter just months earlier while the houses show no signs of flinching. With a frown, I just cross my arms and continue marching in this quiet evening to keep my mind off the stresses of the road and wrestling for just that faint moment. Even if this sport is the greatest thing that has ever happened to be…it’s also the worst thing. Just like any form of opposites that have that one similarity there.
“What a paradox…” I darkly mutter as the wind blows my black hair all over my face, “But gifts are always curses and the opposite is true if you know where to look.”
My train of thought is interrupted by the buzzing in my pants pocket. With a sigh I just shrug my shoulder while brushing the one stubborn stray lock that always seems over my forehead away from my face before reaching into my blue jeans pocket to pull out the trusted cellphone. The wind blows through the blue and black dragon designed t-shirt I have that has the Japanese language logo for ‘Respect’ (尊敬) on the back. After flipping open the old flip phone I shrug to see that its Moretti that sent me the text and instinctively read it out loud.
“Meet me at the old brothel down the road…there’s a surprise for you…” I read quietly before my tone I realize what I just said out loud, “Motherfuc---god dammit Moretti. Bad enough you have a strong case of foot in mouth tweeting with that phone…then you use that damned device to tell me this?”
I close the phone while bawling it up in a fist with my right hand before I aggressively stuff it in my pocket continuing to mutter obscenities before I shutter to think what kind of trouble he got himself in. Knowing him…considering I’m facing Vanessa…he’s dealing with someone on caffeine high before the bouncer or the actual boyfriend shows the sadistic side of both fronts and he’s grilled in the worst way. This absentminded thinking makes me bump into a kid because I didn’t watch where I was going.
“H-hey!” I hear a squeaky voice call out after the contact.
“Oh…” I dart my eyes around before tilting to my left to see who I bumped into, “Sorry.”
The kid seems like he’s maybe about nine years old…with the dreaded bowl cut hair style but after I glance at the t-shirt for the slightest moment I freeze before hiding the obvious irritation and disgust. It’s obvious now he’s a wrestling fan with the old Court t-shirt he’s wearing with everyone that’s ever been a part of that stable. It includes myself, Reya, the Queen Vanessa, and Slater. I go to turn back around after its obvious he’s okay if only a little shaken up before he calls out to me after a couple of steps.
“Hey!” he shouts, “Where are you going?”
“Need to take care of some things…” I reply while not making eye contact…just telling him enough of a portion of the truth, “Farewell, kid.”
“Wait…” the kid pauses for a minute before he connects the dots, “You’re Seth Iser! I knew I heard that voice on television before!”
“Shit…” I curse under my breath before turning to face him with a scowl.
“I used to think you were so cool when you wearing the purple themed attire of the Court…standing up for honor and justice!” he beams with a smile.
The smile is heartwarming to most but just by looking at him…I don’t think that smile is completely sincere because he obviously wants something from me…like most wrestling fans do even if they can’t stand my guts and that’s an autograph to make money off of down the line while trying to find a way to make sure I don’t get a percentage of the cut with my own likeness on it. Like artists…we’re consistently asked to provide something for free when we really shouldn’t.
“Is that so…” I reply lowly…biting my tongue on what I really want to say.
The other thing I wish he along with various other fans would stop mentioning is that group…a group where at this point in my life…I disdain the majority of the members with a burning passion. The Court had a noble purpose as to why it got together…but then I found out that the one thing they claimed they yerned for…is dead. Honor in our society is deceased…and you can’t fight for something that no longer truly exists in the minds and hearts of humans.
“Yeah, you, Vanessa and Reya made a fun bad guy kicking trio. You were like superheroes or something even better than that!” he continues excitedly.
“Good and evil are subjective….” I offer up with a scowl, trying to maintain my composure.
“Yea but…everyone says you’re nothing but evil,” the kid retorts.
“Whose teaching you those lies, kid?” I twitch my eye, barely holding my rage.
“They aren’t lies!” A more feminine voice screeches through.
A woman sprints into the picture just glaring at me with piercing eyes that are similar to a parent protecting their kid and I end up hiding the faintest of smiles that at least selfishness hasn’t tampered with us completely in terms of our morals. The woman is maybe five foot three but judging by her disposition she’s a spitfire just glaring at my face…trembling with hate. After a second to study me…she figures out who I am…and that rage seems to rise within her and I’m hiding a smile for a different reason.
“You’ve become nothing more than a selfish man who uses everyone and everything to keep himself where he’s at!” she’s shrieking, “Don’t you dare poison my son with your ideas.”
“You’re doing a good enough job yourself by being close-minded,” I retort with my arms crossed and a more nonchalant expression.
“Says the man who has hurt everyone for no reason!” she snaps back.
“Mother…” the kid weakly mouths.
With a half of a smirk I just turn my back and start walking toward the destination that Moretti sent for me. The hatred she’s pouring out would be enough to make a normal man’s skin crawl but when it comes from the misinformed…I can’t help but thrive on it. The hatred from those who live a lie pales in comparison to the absolute passion I can unleash when I bring them the truth…and that hatred stems from a different type of fear…the fear that you’ve lived a lie your entire life when the truth smacks you down…humbles you and realizes you’ve been wrong the entire time.
“You’re not half as good of a person as Vanessa, Reya, or Slater! They still embody that symbol that you took away! They are the true selfless ones!” she shrieks.
“Keep preaching the lie woman…because you don’t know what Vanessa secretly wishes for.” I shake my head stopping that slight moment to reply to her, “You’re angry and wanting to protect that kid I know…but instead of just trying to look at things from sheer black and white…learn to realize there are many colors in between because no one person is as selfless as they appear…and no one person is as selfish as they appear. But if you don’t…you contribute to the problem society has!”
“I think I should just pray for your soul…” she mutters, “It’s tainted and twisted.”
“Praying doesn’t do shit for the world. Only your own will power and action…” I sneer before walking away.
The last dagger seems to be the one where I broke her spirit to argue back and as I walk away…I can just sense that hatred turn into shock. You can break a person physically but there’s other ways to break a person’s spirit or psyche if you know where to look. The further I march down the street though…the more I dart my eyes for the one sleazy looking building in an area that’s got more of a blue collar workmanship mentality. I just let out a disgruntled sigh while I just scan my eyeballs across the road and well maintained sidewalk with the trees hanging overhead…continuing my pursuit.
Unfortunately…much like Vanessa…I can’t predict when it’ll come…what I’ll find…or even who I could find if I anticipate it’s the kind of surprise Vincent Moretti goes for. After a moment of shuttering I find the one standout building that has that sleeze. This one building has a couple neon lights that scream that it might’ve been a candidate to become a stripper joint…but the rumor was in older days…the more broken down wooden buildings with a couple of floors and a couple of rooms was an ideal place for prostitutes and their customers…and in a way it makes me cringe considering how I was years and years ago.
“Tch…if Vanessa saw me years ago when I was on the drugs and frequented scandalous places like this…I doubt she’d believe we were the same person…” I frown before shrugging, “Maybe she would though…never know what goes through her mind half the time…but I know she’d make some sort of…comment about Dawn’s bust in a place like this.”
With a shrug I approach the wooden door…glancing back and forth, almost paranoid, in case that woman overcame her shock and tried to stick a knife into me from sheer fury. The door is maintained fairly well for a building I assume could be at least a couple hundred years old. The walls have a fresh coat of paint, and even the windows, unlike most old buildings I’ve ventured into in the past, are sparkling new and well maintained. With a sigh, I open the door.
“Hello?” I dart my eyes guardedly.
The main room has a carpet and a couple of couches which gives it more of a lobby setting. The green couches are well maintained even if there’s just the slightest bit of dust on them. To my right is what looks to be a check in desk but considering the lack of lights…I’d assume it’s abandoned for now. The mental tour I’m giving myself is interrupted by the shrieking voices of both a male and a woman from somewhere in the building. The look on my face when hearing that might be equated to someone biting something too sour.
“Upstairs…” I cringe before regaining my composure, “Maybe?”
With a shrug I locate the stairs in front of me and put my left hand on the rail just in case either of my knees locks up on me. After starting the climb the shrieks of…lust are growing louder. I just glance at the paintings of the walls that put off elegant clothes of what a ‘woman in society should be like’ before sneering in disgust for a second at how that’s another way of deliberate control. After reaching the top step, my irritation and anger starting to pour over the emotional mask I usually put on, I slowly dart my eyes looking for the exact room of where this…surprise will be.
“You want it harder you dirty hooker?” I hear Vincent’s voice.
“Oh fuck…” I sigh, the rasp in my voice more sinister than normal.
The hallway here has seven doors on each side of the hallway as well as a couple vending machines in case you need something to drink…a rare source of modern innovation in more of an older building. Soon enough I just dart my eyes and using my senses to try to pinpoint the exact location of the sound. My eyes pick up on a little sign on the doorhandle of the third door on the left and after I approach it…even I can’t help but let out a faint laugh.
“Do not disturb sign…” I bark up a laugh, “That’s classy.”
“Let me show you the real dildocopter!” Moretti’s voice screams.
“What the FUCK!?” I roar at the mention at that toy and bust through the door.
“AYIEEEEEEEEEEEE! WHAT THE HELL!?” A female shriek goes off that has a strong Mexican accent to it.
“Oh…shit!” I wince.
“THIS IS COCK BLOCKING YOU BASTARD!” Moretti’s high pitched voice follows before he realizes who I am, “Oh…hi Seth.”
Before they let out the scream…I know Vincent was plowing her in missionary before they both, as soon as they heard the door leaped under the covers to…fortunately not completely expose themselves in front of me…the woman looks horrified as Moretti’s mood lightens up slightly before he reaches to the right of his bed to light a cigarette…as if to say his job was done already. The prostitute is just glaring holes at me…don’t know if she’s more offended if I walked in on her time or my looks…but the latter of which is the harder of the two to deal with because of how shallow those people like that one kid’s mother are.
“You do realize we’re not in Vegas right now, right?” I sneer.
“If you don’t cause a huge disturbance or problems with people in the street they tend to look the other way,” Vincent replies with a devilish smile and an almost forked tongue.
“Okay then…” I hesitate before getting to the point, “What’s the surprise you were planning?”
“Oh…” Vincent beams, “Get a load of this…you know this woman here…I got her sister just for you in order to get your mind off of things. She’ll be hear in a few and we’ll leave you alone. A happier man’ll perform better in the ring.”
“What good is a temporary release when as soon as you focus back on the task at hand…you’re even worse off?” I sneer back.
“Vanessa’ll never turn down such a chance if her assistant offered her…” Moretti smiles in that sinister manner.
“Who would want to be with a disgusting person like him?” the blonde, fake breasted prostitute bellows out.
“You’d be surprised…” Vincent smirks, “Besides…maybe this kind of aggression can prepare you for a different type of relationship with Vanessa. Eh? Eh!? You ought’a try being loose like her on things or release yourself on women like that…”
“Not my lifestyle anymore…” I sigh, “She has her own fun ways to prepare for tasks at hand…and she can more than take care of herself. This just isn’t my lifestyle anymore…mainly because you can’t produce anything by ignoring your issues for too long. Even when she has fun, she doesn’t do that. What you’re suggesting falls into that trap.”
“But I wanted to be a friend, man…” Moretti smirks.
“Just take them both then. You already paid for them I presume…you focus on them because I’d rather prove my ability this week…alone…” I sneer, “I’d also like to teach her a lesson she won’t forget in that ring…that you can’t always get what you want. She desires what I have in terms of…disdain just like I desire the respect she has in the industry. We can’t get what we crave if we sit here and do nothing or pray like Reya does. It’s all about your actions and your words…”
“Bu—“ Moretti goes before I exit the room.
The door shuts with a click and I leave the two lustful companions to go back to what they were doing though I doubt they’ll be able to continue with that…aggressive interruption I had…but my way is the only way that works for me. Sure you can pick up ideas here and there but you have to do what’s best for you…and my best is serious preparation and the idea that the truth shines through any lie if you’re persistent enough.
And right now at times…even with the silliness she projects and the coffee she spilled on that one fan…part of me thinks she might not be herself completely.
Any action you do take however…in that ring I best be careful…because she’s probably got my matches in memory considering how many times I’ve spoken with her about the sport to teach her some of those subtle little tricks and seeing her apply them in her own manner. I can’t take credit though…she’s always been that good…hell that entire family…Cera and Reya are good at different aspects of the professional wrestling game.
The thing is…in life you always have to do things you don’t want to…even if its part of a better passage and even with what we know of each other…Vanessa and I couldn’t be anymore opposite. Yin and Yang…if you will…and knowing this…I’m expecting one of the tougher matches I’ll ever lace up my boots for. Maybe one of the most grueling mentally after what I’ve endured and the kind of games she can play to infuriate someone.
But it makes it all the more satisfying to defeat her.
The part of making that…mark to have that legacy that passes down…and the part to where you won’t ever get families like that questioning things you’ve done ignorantly is to show them exactly what you’re capable of every single night, getting better at some aspect of your craft every single time out there…and coming away with multiple championships. I’m not as decorated as a champion as I should be…because for years I didn’t apply myself the way I should have…lost my way in drugs, alcohol, and even the rock and roll lifestyle.
This…is still on the path of my redemption…and nobody is going to take this away from me.
Not Matthew Slater behind that mask he hides behind.
Not Reya Serra no matter how much she prays for herself and others.
Not Vanessa despite her own gifts.
Nobody’ll stop me…when I prove the truth…about everything. I’ll win this match. I’ll continue down the path of exposing the demons in Reya’s heart and the ones she creates just by sitting and preying…and despite the objections her sister Vanessa will have toward me…it’s something I have to do…in order to fulfill my legacy.
And gain the respect in this industry that I crave.
