Loaded RP - Volume II: A Losing Battle is Raging
Jul 25, 2022 13:35:39 GMT -5
Johnny Mason likes this
Post by Swarm on Jul 25, 2022 13:35:39 GMT -5
Please note that all volume and chapter titles, stylized in grey, are also links to a piece of music. This music is designed to serve as background music but, just as well, can be listened to as a precursor to the reading. Furthermore, this RP is part of a multi-part series and, as such, is designed to be read as a complete work. If you have not read the preceding volumes, they are linked below for your convenience.
_______Volume I_______
It's Just a Burning Memory
______Volume II______
A Losing Battle is Raging
I hope you enjoy what I have put together. Thank you for reading.
_______Volume I_______
It's Just a Burning Memory
______Volume II______
A Losing Battle is Raging
I hope you enjoy what I have put together. Thank you for reading.
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
Alex thought to himself. He thought he may have even spoken it aloud, under his breath, but wasn't entirely sure. His mind had divided the question into countless, fractional forms of itself; Infinite branches off the unwieldy root system that was "how long has it been?"
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
"... That I have been waiting here?" Sean thought to himself in an only halfway-faux snooty, sing-song inflection. It did feel like it had been an unusually long amount of time he had been waiting behind this curtain for his cue. Alex wondered if something had gone wrong. Maybe some fan in the front row had suffered a heart attack. Maybe he wouldn't have to do this after all. Sean relished in the fantasy; Imagining solemn faces coming back through the curtain to tell him the sad news. He imagined himself so disappointed, he would say so, but he would be gracious and understanding as well. They would think he's such a nice guy. That sounded nice. Well, he supposed, except for the person who had the heart attack. But maybe they'd pull through, Sean thought. His fantasy at once expanded to include himself visiting this person in the hospital, this loyal fan of his so appreciative of his visit, who for some reason looked like his father. He thought about the fans, the spectators, the crowd. He thought of the roar of the audience's approval, their cheers reverberating up to the rafters and back down.
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
He didn't have to reach far to recall. December 20th, 2013. Just over eight years ago. His last match to date. What many would consider the "find out" that inevitably followed the preceding months’ "f*** around". Just as his title reign had begun by launching an object engulfed in flames toward Trace Demon's face, it was punctuated just the same on behalf of his longtime rival and, professional a**hole, Angelus. He didn't not appreciate the poetry of it. Sean thought back to the moment of contact. In an instant, he remembered the blast of heat, then the sound of his skin sizzling and, after that, the smell. Sean, first, instinctively, brought his hand to his face, as if to ensure he was not still on fire. He then thought of the Denny's Grand Slam with bacon. For a moment his fingers brushed across the topography of his epidermis; That night altered irreparably but now as familiar as any other piece of him, or any other scar of his for that matter. He felt for a moment all that remained of him was scar tissue. Just as quickly as the thought emerged, he chased it off. He knew it wouldn't help to think about all of that, not right now. He remembered his initial train of thought, the fans. Eight years. He would soon be in front of them for the first time in over eight years. Sure, he had been doing the podcast, for some time now even.
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
"Six months?" He thought. Something like that. It was going well, it seemed. Gunnar said it had far more engagements upon launch than Mikael West's podcast "Total A-Pod-calypse", which Sean imagined was good, not really knowing what engagements meant in a specific sense. But that was an entirely different animal regardless. Nothing like this. Nothing like being in front of a crowd again. Nothing like being in front of a hometown crowd, that’s for sure. "What if they don't recognize me?" He thought to himself. Perhaps worse, he thought, what if they recognize him insomuch as to see how much he has changed. Diminished. Not the same. He wondered what it would mean if they had forgotten him. Maybe nobody showed up. Maybe that's why it’s taking so long, maybe nobody is even out there in the first place. Maybe he didn't have to do this after all. Sean imagined the disappointed faces of promoters, them torn between calculating the amount of their asses they had lost in this disaster while trying not to make Alex feel bad about it. That was probably unlikely. He considered the opposite; A packed house, people stacked to the rafters. He, in all sincerity, wasn't sure which of the two would be worse. He thought of all those eyes staring at him, examining, judging. They would surely know. Maybe not at first but, after a while, they would know he wasn't really who he was saying he was. That he wasn't really Alex Sean. Not anymore. The thought sent a cold shiver down his spine. He thought again of the crowd staring at him in judgment and he was, at once, truly scared. Sean couldn't understand what was happening to him, he wasn't always like this. He wasn't always consumed by fear. He wondered when he had become this way. Was there a moment that things had changed? He wouldn't have known; His years in anonymity shielded him from the knowledge.
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
Did it matter? Nobody was going to have a heart attack and most certainly at least one person bought a ticket. He would soon stand under those bright lights and face the judgment of the crowd. He wondered if this wasn’t all just another huge mistake. Why was he even doing this? He couldn’t really place his finger on it. Sean tried to reign his thoughts back in, to regulate his mind. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, he thought. Maybe it would be like it was before. Before he was no longer Alex Sean. Before he was empty. Just as he thought these words, a man’s voice, harshly amplified and reverberating on punishing acoustics, brick-walled against the perimeter of what was assuredly a cheap mixer plugged into bad speakers on the other side of the curtain.
_Announcer_
Ladies and gentlemen.... Please give a warm welcome for Baltimore's own....
He thought again about how it used to be, how he used to feel. He could feel the cold sweat on his back, the growing sensation of looking forward to when this was over, the beginnings of a resolve to finish up his current bookings but after that… No, this would most certainly not be like it was.
_Announcer_
Aaaaaaaaleeeeexxxxxxx Ssssssssssseeeeaaaannnn!
But what was, anymore? When was the last time he felt truly whole?
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
He couldn’t say, but, at least, for a short while, he could pretend.
Alex thought to himself. He thought he may have even spoken it aloud, under his breath, but wasn't entirely sure. His mind had divided the question into countless, fractional forms of itself; Infinite branches off the unwieldy root system that was "how long has it been?"
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
"... That I have been waiting here?" Sean thought to himself in an only halfway-faux snooty, sing-song inflection. It did feel like it had been an unusually long amount of time he had been waiting behind this curtain for his cue. Alex wondered if something had gone wrong. Maybe some fan in the front row had suffered a heart attack. Maybe he wouldn't have to do this after all. Sean relished in the fantasy; Imagining solemn faces coming back through the curtain to tell him the sad news. He imagined himself so disappointed, he would say so, but he would be gracious and understanding as well. They would think he's such a nice guy. That sounded nice. Well, he supposed, except for the person who had the heart attack. But maybe they'd pull through, Sean thought. His fantasy at once expanded to include himself visiting this person in the hospital, this loyal fan of his so appreciative of his visit, who for some reason looked like his father. He thought about the fans, the spectators, the crowd. He thought of the roar of the audience's approval, their cheers reverberating up to the rafters and back down.
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
He didn't have to reach far to recall. December 20th, 2013. Just over eight years ago. His last match to date. What many would consider the "find out" that inevitably followed the preceding months’ "f*** around". Just as his title reign had begun by launching an object engulfed in flames toward Trace Demon's face, it was punctuated just the same on behalf of his longtime rival and, professional a**hole, Angelus. He didn't not appreciate the poetry of it. Sean thought back to the moment of contact. In an instant, he remembered the blast of heat, then the sound of his skin sizzling and, after that, the smell. Sean, first, instinctively, brought his hand to his face, as if to ensure he was not still on fire. He then thought of the Denny's Grand Slam with bacon. For a moment his fingers brushed across the topography of his epidermis; That night altered irreparably but now as familiar as any other piece of him, or any other scar of his for that matter. He felt for a moment all that remained of him was scar tissue. Just as quickly as the thought emerged, he chased it off. He knew it wouldn't help to think about all of that, not right now. He remembered his initial train of thought, the fans. Eight years. He would soon be in front of them for the first time in over eight years. Sure, he had been doing the podcast, for some time now even.
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
"Six months?" He thought. Something like that. It was going well, it seemed. Gunnar said it had far more engagements upon launch than Mikael West's podcast "Total A-Pod-calypse", which Sean imagined was good, not really knowing what engagements meant in a specific sense. But that was an entirely different animal regardless. Nothing like this. Nothing like being in front of a crowd again. Nothing like being in front of a hometown crowd, that’s for sure. "What if they don't recognize me?" He thought to himself. Perhaps worse, he thought, what if they recognize him insomuch as to see how much he has changed. Diminished. Not the same. He wondered what it would mean if they had forgotten him. Maybe nobody showed up. Maybe that's why it’s taking so long, maybe nobody is even out there in the first place. Maybe he didn't have to do this after all. Sean imagined the disappointed faces of promoters, them torn between calculating the amount of their asses they had lost in this disaster while trying not to make Alex feel bad about it. That was probably unlikely. He considered the opposite; A packed house, people stacked to the rafters. He, in all sincerity, wasn't sure which of the two would be worse. He thought of all those eyes staring at him, examining, judging. They would surely know. Maybe not at first but, after a while, they would know he wasn't really who he was saying he was. That he wasn't really Alex Sean. Not anymore. The thought sent a cold shiver down his spine. He thought again of the crowd staring at him in judgment and he was, at once, truly scared. Sean couldn't understand what was happening to him, he wasn't always like this. He wasn't always consumed by fear. He wondered when he had become this way. Was there a moment that things had changed? He wouldn't have known; His years in anonymity shielded him from the knowledge.
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
Did it matter? Nobody was going to have a heart attack and most certainly at least one person bought a ticket. He would soon stand under those bright lights and face the judgment of the crowd. He wondered if this wasn’t all just another huge mistake. Why was he even doing this? He couldn’t really place his finger on it. Sean tried to reign his thoughts back in, to regulate his mind. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, he thought. Maybe it would be like it was before. Before he was no longer Alex Sean. Before he was empty. Just as he thought these words, a man’s voice, harshly amplified and reverberating on punishing acoustics, brick-walled against the perimeter of what was assuredly a cheap mixer plugged into bad speakers on the other side of the curtain.
_Announcer_
Ladies and gentlemen.... Please give a warm welcome for Baltimore's own....
He thought again about how it used to be, how he used to feel. He could feel the cold sweat on his back, the growing sensation of looking forward to when this was over, the beginnings of a resolve to finish up his current bookings but after that… No, this would most certainly not be like it was.
_Announcer_
Aaaaaaaaleeeeexxxxxxx Ssssssssssseeeeaaaannnn!
But what was, anymore? When was the last time he felt truly whole?
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
He couldn’t say, but, at least, for a short while, he could pretend.
Sean took a deep breath, then, in a feat less of courage and more resignation, pushed his way through the thick curtains onto the stage in Hall A at the Baltimore Convention Center. It was only upon clearing that he could hear the music emanating from an equally bad sound system, but for an entirely different set of reasons. It was more DJ Karaoke Night rig than the cacophonous assault waged by the live microphone; The cheap sounding, unlicensed knock-off of "Monster" by Kanye West playing from it not helping matters. Sean’s attention drifted to the stage, Gunnar Whitman standing tall and proud, his eyes warmly staring back, applauding Alex’s arrival. Sean peered at the SuperCast banner adorning the small, square table between the two chairs he and Gunnar were to occupy, then the one hanging above their heads, then the one adorning the stage like an apron. "Guess I’m in the right place." Sean jested to himself. He smiled for a moment before turning to see the crowd. "Maybe not." He thought. It was, to be sure, a sparse attendance. Not a full-blown disaster, but light enough that the room felt much less pro wrestling spectacular, and more, well-attended Bar Mitzvah. He imagined "Celebration" and the "Electric Slide" playing out of the speakers currently acting as an accessory in the musical crime occurring in Hall A.
"He’S a MoNsTeR! MoNsTeR! a BiG BaD MoNsTeR!"
"Oh God, there’s lyrics." Sean thought to himself; Almost certainly speaking it aloud under his breath. He knew instantly it was the work of a white man. But the affect... Sean was as perplexed as he was horrified. It was as if the individual responsible had heard only Nicki Minaj’s profoundly whack final verse of the song and thus, in his efforts, replicated to the best of his abilities, her cookie-monster delivery and, in the process, gave birth to an abomination. He always knew that verse would come back to haunt him someday. This was his Rains of Castamere.
"He’S tHe MoNsTeR, AlEx SeAn, MaKe No MiStAkE,
WhEN hEs CoMiN YoUr WaY tHeRe AiNt NOOO ESCAPE!"
Sean was flattered; He did use to call himself "The Monster".
"UsiN’ eVeRy TrIcK iN the BOOK! fOr HiS pLoTs AnD sCheeeeeemes,
PlAyInG PoLiTiCs to CrUsH hIs FoEs BeHiNd ThE sCeeeeeenes."
"Wait, what the f***?"
"He AiNt GoT nO fRiEnDs iN tHiS wReStLiNg GaMe,
CoS hE oNlY cArEs AbOuT hImSeLf AnD wHaT hE sErVeS tO gAaaiinnn!"
"That’s not even... a fair... argument..." Sean thought to himself defensively. This was starting to feel like a low point. The spell this sonic atrocity occurring at SuperCast held over him was, mercifully, broken by the loud and vociferous cheers emanating from Lamont Carter and Kraig in the front row. Their cheering was, unquestionably, far more enthusiastic or loud than any other occurring in Hall A, punching through the mostly polite response from the paid attendees. It also was becoming clear that Kraig's presence was most certainly killing the vibe for several fans; At least one of which adorned with a vintage "EZ Streak" EBR t-shirt. It didn't matter, Sean had a job to do, and he set about doing it. After greeting Whitman and taking a seat, after the lights on the crowd dimmed and the music, thankfully, finally, stopped, Sean found himself falling into the natural routine he had taken to over the last several months in talking to Whitman. The obscurity of the crowd was of a great service to Alex. It did not take long at all for him to pretend almost as if they weren't even there, that this was just another recording session on any other day in his home office. The podcast had not offered him the sense of fulfillment he had hoped it would. It did not fill the void; it did not make him feel whole. In retrospect, he thought, it was kind of absurd that he thought it might. But it wasn't without its merits. It was fun to reminisce. He enjoyed looking back on the legendary career of Alex Sean, all the twists and turns, ups and downs. He had many stories to tell. Of course, he had been telling these stories for years. By this point, so many of them codified into a performance of an account of an experience that had occurred so long ago to what Alex knew in his heart was a completely different person. Regardless, he enjoyed telling these stories, even if he did not feel they were his to tell. On this night, he talked a lot about the early days. He reminisced about his first friends in the business; Nina, the "Bad Ass Diva" as it were, Goober... He didn't even know Goober's real name, nor had he seen him in...
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
He couldn't even begin to say. In the grand scheme of things, he supposed, he had only really known them for... a year and a half? What is a year and a half to forty-three-year-old man? He wondered how old they would be and what they would be doing now. For a moment, Alex was pleasantly amused by the idea that perhaps they were on a stage somewhere in a hall at a convention center telling stories about him. Of course, as he recalled, his friendship to them didn't exactly end well. Once Frost and the others had gotten in his ear, "wisened him up" to the way the business works, Alex had become someone else. He never really stopped to think at the time about how his career endeavors had cost him so many friends. The mission was what mattered most. Now, sitting on this stage telling ghost stories, Sean couldn't help but feel very little passion about the accolades he spent the most important years of his life accruing and remember much more fondly the memories between those moments. After some time, it appeared the conversation was winding to a natural conclusion. Sean was relieved. It wasn't a disaster nor was it an overwhelming success. It was an overlookable middle ground. Alex would be happy with that.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Well pal... Whitman turns toward Sean. ... It's been a real treat takin' this stroll down memory lane with ya... Turning to the audience. ... Hasn't this been a blast, ya'll?
The response would be fairly described as tepid.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Right on... Turning back to Sean. ... Ya think ya... Putting on a teasing affect ... got what it takes to take on some of these great folks right here in CHARM CITY?
Gunnar gestures to the crowd, who responds more to Whitman's egregious pull for a cheap pop than anything so far this evening. Sean had forgotten about the question-and-answer portion. It couldn't be that bad? This is Mobtown. Baltimore loves Alex Sean. These are his loyal, die-hard, hometown fans. And besides, Sean thought to himself, we've got to be almost done for the night, right?
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
Surely this will only be five, ten minutes at most. With perhaps the most confidence he has mustered all evening, Sean gives his approval which in turn, prompts Gunnar to give the cue to his man in the audience. After a few moments of audible shuffling, a muffled, overdriven voice speaks out from behind the microphone to Sean's left, though, in terms of tactile experience, whoofing out from the speakers just behind and to either side of him. Alas, his eyes find the source.
_Mouth Breather_
Um... hi... He exhales loudly into the microphone, amused as if he had said something amusing. ...
Sean sized up the fellow. It didn't take long. All skin and bones, pointy elbows peeking out of an over-sized t-shirt with the word "Mesh" written along the center in large letters. Behind the shape of the word was the picture of a blue-haired woman's face. Sean figured it must be a band of some kind. "What kind of a band name is Mesh?" Sean thought to himself but, staring at this gaunt, socially awkward boy man... He did not feel the need to inquire.
_Alex Sean_
Hey, pal. What's your name?
_Mouth Breather_
I'm uh... Slurp. ... my name's Spencer.
He would be a Spencer. Poor kid. Sean looked at this sad, unquestionably virginal young man. He should be nice to the kid, he thought. Warm, even.
_Alex Sean_
Well... Hello... Spencer! Sean pauses as he is interrupted by Spencer's post-nasal drip. ... It's nice to meet you!
_Mouth Breather_
Well um... he he.... you're probably not gonna be in a second He laughs once again as if he has made a joke of some kind. ...
"I didn't really care in the first place to be entirely honest." Sean thought to himself. He knew for sure he hadn't spoken that aloud. No, Sean knew what it meant to be a star, what it meant to his fans.
_Alex Sean_
Oh I'm sure... it's... fine. What's your question?
He knew he needed to be kind. The kid's clearly nervous, terrified maybe. He thought about his own nerves, how fearful he was to walk out on to the stage. Maybe he shared more in common with these people than he had previously appreciated. Maybe this could be an avenue for something meaningful; Something that draws him closer...
_Mouth Breather_
I was just um... wondering... how you felt about um... coming back fat and gay with homeless EBR a few years back?
"The f*** this little motherf***er just say?"
_Alex Sean_
I'm sorry... Pausing as not to reiterate his preceding thought. ... What was that, again?
_Mouth Breather_
You know... um... The Anointed Epoch. When you were gay with Michael Kyzer.
_Alex Sean_
I don't... Sean's eyebrows crinkle together. ...know... what you're talking about.
Sean thinks about that year he was doing heroin on the regular with Kyzer. At least what he could recall of it. His memory of this time, understandably, was a bit of a blur.
_Alex Sean_
... I mean unless you’ve heard something specific...
Gunnar steps in like a referee at the tail end of the five count of a rope break.
_Gunnar Whitman_
... Chuckling warmly. Always so warm, Gunnar is. ... Buddeh ya got it flipped; It was uh... He chuckles. ... Fat, gay EBR and homeless Alex Sean, not the other way around. Also, I'm preh-tee sure those guys were not the REAL EBR and Alex Sean... Gunnar lets loose his magnetic belly laugh. At least for a few moments, until the uncertainty sets in. ... At least I think they weren’t... Gunnar turns to Sean. ... They... weren’t... right?
Sean shrugs, having not the faintest clue what anybody is talking about.
_Alex Sean_
I... do not believe I was ever homeless and in a stable called... Turning to the Mouth Breather. ... the Anointed Epoch, you said? ... Turning back toward Gunnar. ... With Michael Kyzer and a fat, gay EBR. That doesn’t sound like him either, to be honest. He’s always been very fit.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Right... Turning back to the mouth breather. ... Maybe you ought'ta ask a different question, pal.
_Mouth Breather_
... Slurp. ... Okeh.... um... do you still hate Thunder?
Sean thinks about the many, many times he beat Thunder.
_Alex Sean_
Oh... hate? Pfft. We're cool... I mean ya know... we never really saw... eye to eye or anything but... I dunno... I didn't think we so much as Emphasizing the word to a cartoonish degree as inform how absurd a notion he believes it to be. HATED... each other as much as just... ya know... were competitive rivals. Two soldiers in the same battle, two warriors fighting for the same prize, right? Sean nods confidently. ... Yeah... I think it’s fair to say there was at least a grudging sort of... mutual... respect there.
_Mouth Breather_
He um... Sllluuuurrrpppp. ... has a policy at autograph signings to spit on any Alex Sean picture brought to him.
_Alex Sean_
Oh.
Gunnar leans in closer to Sean, his palm covering his lapel microphone.
_Gunnar Whitman_
... Under his breath. ... Yeah it's a whole thing... I mentioned that in the folder, if you recall.
He did not.
_Alex Sean_
... Pretending to. .... Oh yeeeeaaaah.
_Gunnar Whitman_
... Still under his breath. ... Heard he had a deal going some ways back where bringing him an Alex Sean 8x10 to spit on got you a discount on an autograph. Whitman nods, impressed. ... Guy made a killing.
Sean thought back to last year and the strange bump in sales of 8x10s in the Fall. "A buck's a buck" he thought to himself. Sean looked back to where the mouth breather had just been, seeing only his skeletal frame exiting. "Yeah, you're welcome." Sean thought to himself. He wasn't about to ask for a thank you but...
_Gunnar Whitman_
What was that?
Ah sh**. Definitely happened that time.
_Alex Sean_
Oh I was um... Just saying you're welcome to... bring out the next question.. er...
Nailed it. After a few moments, a young woman, no doubt reflecting under 10% of the overall attendance of this event, spoke out over the microphone.
_Most Assuredly Has Had a Great Many Things Explained to Her Unprompted Today_
Heeeeeello!
Sean looks around, eventually finding her on the right side of the hall. With one look Sean was certain this woman owned a snake. Her face was pierced in several unconventional places. Her frame was adorned with a t-shirt with the words "Ultraviolent Antichrist" written in a font stylized to look like barbed wire above an image of two barbed wire boards nailed together in the shape of a cross. "Tasteful" Sean thought to himself.
_Alex Sean_
Nice shirt. He could still have his fun. ... What's your name?
There were several audible "oohs" upon Sean's mentioning of the shirt for some reason.
_Little Miss Queen of the Damned Over Here_
I'm Chelsea!
Sean once knew a Chelsea. He believed she was a Pomeranian.
_Alex Sean_
Nice to meet you, Chelsea. What's your question?
_Chelsea_
Well, I was just wondering... um.... ya know... Phillip Schneider... She nods in a very "has watched too much anime" kind of way. ... He's my favorite wrestler.
"Who the f*** is Phillip Schneider?" Sean thought to himself.
_Alex Sean_
Wooooowww.... Nodding impressed. ... That's uh... great. Ya know he's... Sean turns to Gunnar with eyes that speak a thousand variations of asking who Phillip Schneider is. Silently, Gunnar mouths the shape of the word "Obo". ... Yeah... Ol' Obo... He sure was quite the funny guy. Sean turns back to Chelsea. ... Ya know he kicked me in the face once. Sean nods. Yeah... um... Scars and Stripes... 2006 I think. Wild times, eh?
_Chelsea_
Yeeaaahh... you know he has had a lot of things to say about you.
_Alex Sean_
... Sean chuckles. ... Oh... um... I hope it's not bad... ha ha...
The growing vibe in the room seemed to indicate it was.
_Alex Sean_
... But seriously what'd he say?
Chelsea clears her throat as she pulls a stack of cue cards from her handbag adorned with a number of large, sewn-on patches. The "King of Gore" one with a crown of thorns dripping with blood was distinctly provocative.
_Chelsea_
Well... He claims that you pushed him out of the WFWF in 2008 because like, ya know, you were trying to tell him how to be and he was like, not about to let anyone tell him how to be. And then apparently before that...
She went on like this for some time.
_Chelsea_
... And also he said how everyone left in 2005 because of you...
And on.
_Chelsea_
... You know it's just kind of... with all due respect, messed up that you needed the pencil just to be successful like no offense...
And on.
_Chelsea_
... But what's crazy is how you made him into Phillip Schneider who...
_Alex Sean_
... Is your favorite wrestler, right.
_Chelsea_
Yeah! And so it’s like, I'm not even like, mad because you totally made him into who he became and that's just sooooo dramatic...
Still, she went on...
_Chelsea_
So what do you think of all that? Do you think he's fair to have called you, I'm quoting here... a "chicken" and a "slime of a human being" who "Killed his love for wrestling; Stabbed it in the heart and laughed as it pumped vital fluids and plasma on the floor." ...Chelsea's tone turns very solemn. ... How do you feel about yourself having been amused as you watched his innocence die?
He was befuddled, to say the least. Sean tried to remember Obo, at least anything other him kicking him in the face that one time.
_Alex Sean_
Um... Sigh. ... I really didn't... know him... that well... Chelsea. I mean... I suppose he is the one who has said most of these things?
_Chelsea_
... She nods. ... Oh yes, many times.
_Alex Sean_
And.. and... So what? He says it and it's just true? I mean surely... Sean's head begins to turn from left to right as he addresses the room. ... You would all give me a little bit more of the benefit of the doubt, right?
He was never more Padme meme than he was in that moment of silence.
_Alex Sean_
Oh...
Surely they must be done soon... surely.
___☵ "HOW. LONG. HAS. IT. BEEN?" ☵___
Not long enough.
_Chelsea_
... Dispelling with any remaining false civility. ... I think this is a little disingenuous of you.
"I think your face is disingenuous" Sean thought to himself.
_Alex Sean_
... I don't follow?
_Chelsea_
It's pretty well-established you sabotaged Obo's career and turned him into Phillip Schneider. He's said it many times. Every knows that all you ever cared about was power, attention, and respect, and when you felt like someone stood in the way of that... She shakes her head, condemning him. ... you took them out.
Alex scoffs. I mean, who does she think she is? She doesn't know me, he thought. She doesn't know what I... He considered that he should reign it back. No need to be rude.
_Alex Sean_
You don't even know what the f*** you're talking about!
On the other hand...
_Alex Sean_
Like... Sean scoffs. ... Who even... said these things? Who have I ever... Raising air quotes mockingly. ... "Taken out", as you have said?
He looks to the front row at Kraig and Lamont, Kraig nodding approvingly at his use of mocking air quotes. It's nice to have friends. This moment of Zen is, at once, dissipated as fans in Hall A begin shouting out names. Total Apocalypse. The Shape. Calvin Lee. Sean's face scrunches into a configuration of pure defensiveness.
_Alex Sean_
Calvin? 'The f*** did I... I never did anything to Calvin. He's my boy. Also, how many questions is Chelsea supposed to get to ask here?
This is ridiculous, Sean thought. How dare they question me like this? He turned to Gunnar with a look of "can you even believe this?" but found waiting for him only the increasingly concerned eyes of a promoter watching his product and his centerpiece star in it turn into an unbridled disaster. Sean was greeted by a new voice with an even less welcoming or forgiving tone.
_Mr. Knight in Shining Armor_
You really shouldn't talk to her like that, man!
Sean looks around, finding her valiant defender on the left side of the hall. Maybe he's right. Who was he to defend Alex Sean's reputation? He had as little claim to it as this cavalcade of maladjusted youths. Who was he to act as if was any better than them?
_Alex Sean_
... Deep sigh. ... Look I'm... He peers around, looking for the woman in the fishnet sleeves. ... Sorry if I offended you... I just... Sigh. ... Look I didn't know Obo that well and if something I did had some... effect... on him... somehow... and.. and... Calvin? Like... I mean he turned on me! Ya know? Ya'll remember that? Me fighting him and E attacking me after?
He remembered the spear tip. He remembered the way the EMT held his hand in the ambulance.
_Alex Sean_
... I dunno... I mean who else has said these things about me? Who's out there saying I only care about... what'd you say, Chelsea? Power, attention, and respect? I mean sure, I haven't always been the nicest guy. Who in wrestling has? But all this stuff about... Sean scoffs again. ... Who other than In a mocking tone. Obo the Hobo has said these things about me?
A grim vibe overtook Hall A, as if a pall had been laid atop it.
_Mr. Knight in Shining Armor_
... Shawn Malakai, that's who.
The attendees in Hall A once again "ooh"'ed in a way that Alex, once again, had absolutely no idea as to the reason for. Out of the corner of his eye, Sean saw Gunnar throw his hands up in exasperation and he realized what was happening. Here these few people were throwing this immense shade on Alex Sean's name and all on what? The word of some perennial mid-carder that had little-to-no credibility? Of course Gunnar was over this; All of this grief because of some jabroni who never amounted to anything. But Sean knew he had to do Gunnar a solid and bring a semblance of civility back to the room. He would be honest about Malakai, but nice about it. Surely that would go over well.
_Alex Sean_
Look... Shaking his head solemnly. ... With all due respect to Shawn Malakai... Sean barely holds back a dismissive chuckle. ... Ya know, look at his record? I mean, I get it. Sean nods. ... I was the top guy while he was trying to break out. I even gave him some advice back in the day! And... Sigh. ... Jealousy... it's ugly. Here he was... like... let's face it; Kind of a nobody, right? I mean he was OKAY but... you know... let's be honest? He wasn't at that level. So I beat him once and... Sean sighs again, his performative magnanimity at all-time-high levels. ... I guess he just couldn't let that go. He couldn't let it go that he was never at that level. I'm sure it must have been hard being stuck in the middle of the card... Sean nods compassionately. ... I'm sure it was... probably the hardest thing he's ever had to endure. Maybe... in that jealousy and bitterness he just... lashed out.
Sean pauses, nodding solemnly. He peers at the crowd, their eyes opened wide staring in what must be awe at how diplomatic and gracious he is being.
_Alex Sean_
I mean, let's face it. I'll admit, I don't follow the product as closely as I could but... What has he accomplished? I mean, is he even still wrestling? I haven't heard anything about him since like... what? 2013? Nodding again. ... I'm sure over the years he's had to live with the disappointment and maybe he's felt he needed someone to blame. I dunno, what do you think... Sean turns to Whitman. ... Gunnar?
His turn toward Whitman is met with a look of absolute mortification. Weird way to respond, but okay. He turned back to the crowd, at this point a noticeable amount getting up from their seats and exiting Hall A. The complete silence in the room affording their every step to echo throughout the room and, eventually, the loud clang of the double doors being pushed open then swinging closed.
_Alex Sean_
... Sean chuckles. ... Jesus... tough crowd tonight... I mean, who died?
There wasn't so much an audible gasp as much as the psychic presence of one. I mean it's as if... He froze, a jolt of terror running down Sean's spine. He turned to Whitman who, possibly possessing the shining, simply nodded slowly. Of course Shawn Malakai had died. That was just like him to do that. What a mess. What a mistake this was. He couldn't keep doing this to himself. Of course he was blowing it. How could he serve as the executor of Alex Sean's legacy when he is no longer Alex Sean? This was an embarrassment. Certainly a low point. Very likely impossible to get much worse.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Well folks I think it's safe to say that Alex Sean has more than lived up to his status as the most controversial man in professional wrestling!
A smattering of applause rings out, it seeming to indicate more of an agreement on the terms of Alex being an a**hole than anything.
_Gunnar Whitman_
But ya know... We've talked about Thunder; we've talked about Alex Sean's greatest nemesis Phillip Schneider...
Sean legitimately could only think of that time he kicked him in the face while he was in the middle of suplexing Meg. She was cool, though, he recalled.
_Gunnar Whitman_
... We've even talked about Shawn Malakai; God rest his soul. But uh... Gunnar turns toward Sean, a stupid, affectionate grin spread across his big, stupid, affectionate face. ... I think there might be somebody who's got a bone to pick with you that we might have forgotten.
Sean at once could conjure about two dozen names of people who would easily fit that description.
_Alex Sean_
I dunno um... Who could it...
The Monster was entirely caught off-guard as a sweaty forearm encircled his neck in what was either a playful or remarkably poorly executed rear naked choke. Sean was, in an instant, flooded with simultaneous rage at the intrusion of his personal space and embarrassment over being caught so completely unaware by his attack. Sean sprung out of his chair, turning the corner to see a man who for what he lacked in stature vertically, was well on his way to achieving horizontally. He looked up and down at this balding man; The horseshoe that adorned the sides of his head grown out in wispy, ratty looking strands that for some unimaginable reason he had chosen not to have the good graces to tie into a ponytail. Perhaps more to the point, Sean was absolutely certain he had never seen this individual at any other point in his life.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Ladies and gentlemen... please give a warm welcome to a surprise guest... Alex Sean's very first tag team partner...
"Word?"
_Gunnar Whitman_
One of the founders of Rated X...
"No sh**?"
_Gunnar Whitman_
Give it up for... Jay... Bee... BUTTKICKER!
The wide man approached Sean, a knowing smile across his face. Sean began stammering out some form of a modest greeting but was cut off by a big, quite damp, hug from JB.
_JB Buttkicker_
Howw long has it been, maaaaannn?
Was it possible he had Mandela Effected his way into an alternative reality where JB Buttkicker moonlighted as a dishwasher? Maybe those nerds that kept telling him about the two different Uppertakers were on to something.
_Alex Sean_
Ohh man... so.. so...
So... so.... so...
_Alex Sean_
... so ... very... long...
Sean tried to enjoy the moment. He really did. But he was truly lost. He was still feeling the sting of Buttkicker's sneak attack, moreover how defenseless he felt in his complete lack of preparedness for it. And before that, the mockery that was this whole event. He wondered if that was truly how people saw him? As some irredeemable, self-absorbed, egomaniacal a**hole. He thought about those song lyrics. What was the line? "He ain't got no friends in the wrestling game?" Sean looked at the stage. "Well, at least I've got JB Buttkicker." he thought.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Let's give it up folks for Rated X!
In his defense, this had generated the most audible response from the audience thus far. A few moments passed and out of the corner of his eye, Sean saw the signal come from a stagehand that the live, internet telecast of this event had concluded. It was almost over.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Ya know, Alex... Turning toward Sean. ... As you may have noticed, we weren't able to work out a deal with Kanye West for the rights to play "Monster" tonight.
"He’S a MoNsTeR! MoNsTeR! a BiG BaD MoNsTeR!"
_Alex Sean_
... I hadn't noticed...
_Gunnar Whitman_
But uh... Now that the pay-per-view is over... I think these fine folks in Hall A would be willing to keep this on the d-l.
Gunnar winks perfectly at the audience, his infallible charm becoming increasingly tiresome to an increasingly tired Alex Sean.
_Gunnar Whitman_
So let's hear it folks for Rated X... Turning toward JB Buttkicker. ... For JB Buttkicker... and, folks... Turning toward Sean. ... Let's hear it for AALLEEEEXXXX SHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWTIIIIIIIME!
Just as Gunnar spoke these words, the opening of "Linchpin" by Fear Factory begin chirping out of the karaoke rig, and Alex Sean was filled with a potent rage he had not felt in...
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
"Who the f*** cares?" Alex thought. He stared at Whitman's perfectly warm, loving eyes atop his big, perfect smile brandishing his perfect, white teeth, and wanted to break all of them into a thousand pieces. Break every piece of him until they could never put the pieces back together again. He thought himself to be on some humpty dumpty sh** but, almost immediately, realized how stupid that sounded. Still, he felt how he felt. Alex Showtime? Sean was incensed. "How dare he make a mockery of me like this." Sean thought to himself, muttering under his breath with the tone of a thousand f***-yous. He wasn’t going to stand for this. He wasn’t going to let Gunnar Whitman treat him like a joke. Sean's belly filled with fire at the very thought of it, and for the first time in longer than he cared even to ask, he felt alive.
"He’S a MoNsTeR! MoNsTeR! a BiG BaD MoNsTeR!"
"Oh God, there’s lyrics." Sean thought to himself; Almost certainly speaking it aloud under his breath. He knew instantly it was the work of a white man. But the affect... Sean was as perplexed as he was horrified. It was as if the individual responsible had heard only Nicki Minaj’s profoundly whack final verse of the song and thus, in his efforts, replicated to the best of his abilities, her cookie-monster delivery and, in the process, gave birth to an abomination. He always knew that verse would come back to haunt him someday. This was his Rains of Castamere.
"He’S tHe MoNsTeR, AlEx SeAn, MaKe No MiStAkE,
WhEN hEs CoMiN YoUr WaY tHeRe AiNt NOOO ESCAPE!"
Sean was flattered; He did use to call himself "The Monster".
"UsiN’ eVeRy TrIcK iN the BOOK! fOr HiS pLoTs AnD sCheeeeeemes,
PlAyInG PoLiTiCs to CrUsH hIs FoEs BeHiNd ThE sCeeeeeenes."
"Wait, what the f***?"
"He AiNt GoT nO fRiEnDs iN tHiS wReStLiNg GaMe,
CoS hE oNlY cArEs AbOuT hImSeLf AnD wHaT hE sErVeS tO gAaaiinnn!"
"That’s not even... a fair... argument..." Sean thought to himself defensively. This was starting to feel like a low point. The spell this sonic atrocity occurring at SuperCast held over him was, mercifully, broken by the loud and vociferous cheers emanating from Lamont Carter and Kraig in the front row. Their cheering was, unquestionably, far more enthusiastic or loud than any other occurring in Hall A, punching through the mostly polite response from the paid attendees. It also was becoming clear that Kraig's presence was most certainly killing the vibe for several fans; At least one of which adorned with a vintage "EZ Streak" EBR t-shirt. It didn't matter, Sean had a job to do, and he set about doing it. After greeting Whitman and taking a seat, after the lights on the crowd dimmed and the music, thankfully, finally, stopped, Sean found himself falling into the natural routine he had taken to over the last several months in talking to Whitman. The obscurity of the crowd was of a great service to Alex. It did not take long at all for him to pretend almost as if they weren't even there, that this was just another recording session on any other day in his home office. The podcast had not offered him the sense of fulfillment he had hoped it would. It did not fill the void; it did not make him feel whole. In retrospect, he thought, it was kind of absurd that he thought it might. But it wasn't without its merits. It was fun to reminisce. He enjoyed looking back on the legendary career of Alex Sean, all the twists and turns, ups and downs. He had many stories to tell. Of course, he had been telling these stories for years. By this point, so many of them codified into a performance of an account of an experience that had occurred so long ago to what Alex knew in his heart was a completely different person. Regardless, he enjoyed telling these stories, even if he did not feel they were his to tell. On this night, he talked a lot about the early days. He reminisced about his first friends in the business; Nina, the "Bad Ass Diva" as it were, Goober... He didn't even know Goober's real name, nor had he seen him in...
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
He couldn't even begin to say. In the grand scheme of things, he supposed, he had only really known them for... a year and a half? What is a year and a half to forty-three-year-old man? He wondered how old they would be and what they would be doing now. For a moment, Alex was pleasantly amused by the idea that perhaps they were on a stage somewhere in a hall at a convention center telling stories about him. Of course, as he recalled, his friendship to them didn't exactly end well. Once Frost and the others had gotten in his ear, "wisened him up" to the way the business works, Alex had become someone else. He never really stopped to think at the time about how his career endeavors had cost him so many friends. The mission was what mattered most. Now, sitting on this stage telling ghost stories, Sean couldn't help but feel very little passion about the accolades he spent the most important years of his life accruing and remember much more fondly the memories between those moments. After some time, it appeared the conversation was winding to a natural conclusion. Sean was relieved. It wasn't a disaster nor was it an overwhelming success. It was an overlookable middle ground. Alex would be happy with that.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Well pal... Whitman turns toward Sean. ... It's been a real treat takin' this stroll down memory lane with ya... Turning to the audience. ... Hasn't this been a blast, ya'll?
The response would be fairly described as tepid.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Right on... Turning back to Sean. ... Ya think ya... Putting on a teasing affect ... got what it takes to take on some of these great folks right here in CHARM CITY?
Gunnar gestures to the crowd, who responds more to Whitman's egregious pull for a cheap pop than anything so far this evening. Sean had forgotten about the question-and-answer portion. It couldn't be that bad? This is Mobtown. Baltimore loves Alex Sean. These are his loyal, die-hard, hometown fans. And besides, Sean thought to himself, we've got to be almost done for the night, right?
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
Surely this will only be five, ten minutes at most. With perhaps the most confidence he has mustered all evening, Sean gives his approval which in turn, prompts Gunnar to give the cue to his man in the audience. After a few moments of audible shuffling, a muffled, overdriven voice speaks out from behind the microphone to Sean's left, though, in terms of tactile experience, whoofing out from the speakers just behind and to either side of him. Alas, his eyes find the source.
_Mouth Breather_
Um... hi... He exhales loudly into the microphone, amused as if he had said something amusing. ...
Sean sized up the fellow. It didn't take long. All skin and bones, pointy elbows peeking out of an over-sized t-shirt with the word "Mesh" written along the center in large letters. Behind the shape of the word was the picture of a blue-haired woman's face. Sean figured it must be a band of some kind. "What kind of a band name is Mesh?" Sean thought to himself but, staring at this gaunt, socially awkward boy man... He did not feel the need to inquire.
_Alex Sean_
Hey, pal. What's your name?
_Mouth Breather_
I'm uh... Slurp. ... my name's Spencer.
He would be a Spencer. Poor kid. Sean looked at this sad, unquestionably virginal young man. He should be nice to the kid, he thought. Warm, even.
_Alex Sean_
Well... Hello... Spencer! Sean pauses as he is interrupted by Spencer's post-nasal drip. ... It's nice to meet you!
_Mouth Breather_
Well um... he he.... you're probably not gonna be in a second He laughs once again as if he has made a joke of some kind. ...
"I didn't really care in the first place to be entirely honest." Sean thought to himself. He knew for sure he hadn't spoken that aloud. No, Sean knew what it meant to be a star, what it meant to his fans.
_Alex Sean_
Oh I'm sure... it's... fine. What's your question?
He knew he needed to be kind. The kid's clearly nervous, terrified maybe. He thought about his own nerves, how fearful he was to walk out on to the stage. Maybe he shared more in common with these people than he had previously appreciated. Maybe this could be an avenue for something meaningful; Something that draws him closer...
_Mouth Breather_
I was just um... wondering... how you felt about um... coming back fat and gay with homeless EBR a few years back?
"The f*** this little motherf***er just say?"
_Alex Sean_
I'm sorry... Pausing as not to reiterate his preceding thought. ... What was that, again?
_Mouth Breather_
You know... um... The Anointed Epoch. When you were gay with Michael Kyzer.
_Alex Sean_
I don't... Sean's eyebrows crinkle together. ...know... what you're talking about.
Sean thinks about that year he was doing heroin on the regular with Kyzer. At least what he could recall of it. His memory of this time, understandably, was a bit of a blur.
_Alex Sean_
... I mean unless you’ve heard something specific...
Gunnar steps in like a referee at the tail end of the five count of a rope break.
_Gunnar Whitman_
... Chuckling warmly. Always so warm, Gunnar is. ... Buddeh ya got it flipped; It was uh... He chuckles. ... Fat, gay EBR and homeless Alex Sean, not the other way around. Also, I'm preh-tee sure those guys were not the REAL EBR and Alex Sean... Gunnar lets loose his magnetic belly laugh. At least for a few moments, until the uncertainty sets in. ... At least I think they weren’t... Gunnar turns to Sean. ... They... weren’t... right?
Sean shrugs, having not the faintest clue what anybody is talking about.
_Alex Sean_
I... do not believe I was ever homeless and in a stable called... Turning to the Mouth Breather. ... the Anointed Epoch, you said? ... Turning back toward Gunnar. ... With Michael Kyzer and a fat, gay EBR. That doesn’t sound like him either, to be honest. He’s always been very fit.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Right... Turning back to the mouth breather. ... Maybe you ought'ta ask a different question, pal.
_Mouth Breather_
... Slurp. ... Okeh.... um... do you still hate Thunder?
Sean thinks about the many, many times he beat Thunder.
_Alex Sean_
Oh... hate? Pfft. We're cool... I mean ya know... we never really saw... eye to eye or anything but... I dunno... I didn't think we so much as Emphasizing the word to a cartoonish degree as inform how absurd a notion he believes it to be. HATED... each other as much as just... ya know... were competitive rivals. Two soldiers in the same battle, two warriors fighting for the same prize, right? Sean nods confidently. ... Yeah... I think it’s fair to say there was at least a grudging sort of... mutual... respect there.
_Mouth Breather_
He um... Sllluuuurrrpppp. ... has a policy at autograph signings to spit on any Alex Sean picture brought to him.
_Alex Sean_
Oh.
Gunnar leans in closer to Sean, his palm covering his lapel microphone.
_Gunnar Whitman_
... Under his breath. ... Yeah it's a whole thing... I mentioned that in the folder, if you recall.
He did not.
_Alex Sean_
... Pretending to. .... Oh yeeeeaaaah.
_Gunnar Whitman_
... Still under his breath. ... Heard he had a deal going some ways back where bringing him an Alex Sean 8x10 to spit on got you a discount on an autograph. Whitman nods, impressed. ... Guy made a killing.
Sean thought back to last year and the strange bump in sales of 8x10s in the Fall. "A buck's a buck" he thought to himself. Sean looked back to where the mouth breather had just been, seeing only his skeletal frame exiting. "Yeah, you're welcome." Sean thought to himself. He wasn't about to ask for a thank you but...
_Gunnar Whitman_
What was that?
Ah sh**. Definitely happened that time.
_Alex Sean_
Oh I was um... Just saying you're welcome to... bring out the next question.. er...
Nailed it. After a few moments, a young woman, no doubt reflecting under 10% of the overall attendance of this event, spoke out over the microphone.
_Most Assuredly Has Had a Great Many Things Explained to Her Unprompted Today_
Heeeeeello!
Sean looks around, eventually finding her on the right side of the hall. With one look Sean was certain this woman owned a snake. Her face was pierced in several unconventional places. Her frame was adorned with a t-shirt with the words "Ultraviolent Antichrist" written in a font stylized to look like barbed wire above an image of two barbed wire boards nailed together in the shape of a cross. "Tasteful" Sean thought to himself.
_Alex Sean_
Nice shirt. He could still have his fun. ... What's your name?
There were several audible "oohs" upon Sean's mentioning of the shirt for some reason.
_Little Miss Queen of the Damned Over Here_
I'm Chelsea!
Sean once knew a Chelsea. He believed she was a Pomeranian.
_Alex Sean_
Nice to meet you, Chelsea. What's your question?
_Chelsea_
Well, I was just wondering... um.... ya know... Phillip Schneider... She nods in a very "has watched too much anime" kind of way. ... He's my favorite wrestler.
"Who the f*** is Phillip Schneider?" Sean thought to himself.
_Alex Sean_
Wooooowww.... Nodding impressed. ... That's uh... great. Ya know he's... Sean turns to Gunnar with eyes that speak a thousand variations of asking who Phillip Schneider is. Silently, Gunnar mouths the shape of the word "Obo". ... Yeah... Ol' Obo... He sure was quite the funny guy. Sean turns back to Chelsea. ... Ya know he kicked me in the face once. Sean nods. Yeah... um... Scars and Stripes... 2006 I think. Wild times, eh?
_Chelsea_
Yeeaaahh... you know he has had a lot of things to say about you.
_Alex Sean_
... Sean chuckles. ... Oh... um... I hope it's not bad... ha ha...
The growing vibe in the room seemed to indicate it was.
_Alex Sean_
... But seriously what'd he say?
Chelsea clears her throat as she pulls a stack of cue cards from her handbag adorned with a number of large, sewn-on patches. The "King of Gore" one with a crown of thorns dripping with blood was distinctly provocative.
_Chelsea_
Well... He claims that you pushed him out of the WFWF in 2008 because like, ya know, you were trying to tell him how to be and he was like, not about to let anyone tell him how to be. And then apparently before that...
She went on like this for some time.
_Chelsea_
... And also he said how everyone left in 2005 because of you...
And on.
_Chelsea_
... You know it's just kind of... with all due respect, messed up that you needed the pencil just to be successful like no offense...
And on.
_Chelsea_
... But what's crazy is how you made him into Phillip Schneider who...
_Alex Sean_
... Is your favorite wrestler, right.
_Chelsea_
Yeah! And so it’s like, I'm not even like, mad because you totally made him into who he became and that's just sooooo dramatic...
Still, she went on...
_Chelsea_
So what do you think of all that? Do you think he's fair to have called you, I'm quoting here... a "chicken" and a "slime of a human being" who "Killed his love for wrestling; Stabbed it in the heart and laughed as it pumped vital fluids and plasma on the floor." ...Chelsea's tone turns very solemn. ... How do you feel about yourself having been amused as you watched his innocence die?
He was befuddled, to say the least. Sean tried to remember Obo, at least anything other him kicking him in the face that one time.
_Alex Sean_
Um... Sigh. ... I really didn't... know him... that well... Chelsea. I mean... I suppose he is the one who has said most of these things?
_Chelsea_
... She nods. ... Oh yes, many times.
_Alex Sean_
And.. and... So what? He says it and it's just true? I mean surely... Sean's head begins to turn from left to right as he addresses the room. ... You would all give me a little bit more of the benefit of the doubt, right?
He was never more Padme meme than he was in that moment of silence.
_Alex Sean_
Oh...
Surely they must be done soon... surely.
___☵ "HOW. LONG. HAS. IT. BEEN?" ☵___
Not long enough.
_Chelsea_
... Dispelling with any remaining false civility. ... I think this is a little disingenuous of you.
"I think your face is disingenuous" Sean thought to himself.
_Alex Sean_
... I don't follow?
_Chelsea_
It's pretty well-established you sabotaged Obo's career and turned him into Phillip Schneider. He's said it many times. Every knows that all you ever cared about was power, attention, and respect, and when you felt like someone stood in the way of that... She shakes her head, condemning him. ... you took them out.
Alex scoffs. I mean, who does she think she is? She doesn't know me, he thought. She doesn't know what I... He considered that he should reign it back. No need to be rude.
_Alex Sean_
You don't even know what the f*** you're talking about!
On the other hand...
_Alex Sean_
Like... Sean scoffs. ... Who even... said these things? Who have I ever... Raising air quotes mockingly. ... "Taken out", as you have said?
He looks to the front row at Kraig and Lamont, Kraig nodding approvingly at his use of mocking air quotes. It's nice to have friends. This moment of Zen is, at once, dissipated as fans in Hall A begin shouting out names. Total Apocalypse. The Shape. Calvin Lee. Sean's face scrunches into a configuration of pure defensiveness.
_Alex Sean_
Calvin? 'The f*** did I... I never did anything to Calvin. He's my boy. Also, how many questions is Chelsea supposed to get to ask here?
This is ridiculous, Sean thought. How dare they question me like this? He turned to Gunnar with a look of "can you even believe this?" but found waiting for him only the increasingly concerned eyes of a promoter watching his product and his centerpiece star in it turn into an unbridled disaster. Sean was greeted by a new voice with an even less welcoming or forgiving tone.
_Mr. Knight in Shining Armor_
You really shouldn't talk to her like that, man!
Sean looks around, finding her valiant defender on the left side of the hall. Maybe he's right. Who was he to defend Alex Sean's reputation? He had as little claim to it as this cavalcade of maladjusted youths. Who was he to act as if was any better than them?
_Alex Sean_
... Deep sigh. ... Look I'm... He peers around, looking for the woman in the fishnet sleeves. ... Sorry if I offended you... I just... Sigh. ... Look I didn't know Obo that well and if something I did had some... effect... on him... somehow... and.. and... Calvin? Like... I mean he turned on me! Ya know? Ya'll remember that? Me fighting him and E attacking me after?
He remembered the spear tip. He remembered the way the EMT held his hand in the ambulance.
_Alex Sean_
... I dunno... I mean who else has said these things about me? Who's out there saying I only care about... what'd you say, Chelsea? Power, attention, and respect? I mean sure, I haven't always been the nicest guy. Who in wrestling has? But all this stuff about... Sean scoffs again. ... Who other than In a mocking tone. Obo the Hobo has said these things about me?
A grim vibe overtook Hall A, as if a pall had been laid atop it.
_Mr. Knight in Shining Armor_
... Shawn Malakai, that's who.
The attendees in Hall A once again "ooh"'ed in a way that Alex, once again, had absolutely no idea as to the reason for. Out of the corner of his eye, Sean saw Gunnar throw his hands up in exasperation and he realized what was happening. Here these few people were throwing this immense shade on Alex Sean's name and all on what? The word of some perennial mid-carder that had little-to-no credibility? Of course Gunnar was over this; All of this grief because of some jabroni who never amounted to anything. But Sean knew he had to do Gunnar a solid and bring a semblance of civility back to the room. He would be honest about Malakai, but nice about it. Surely that would go over well.
_Alex Sean_
Look... Shaking his head solemnly. ... With all due respect to Shawn Malakai... Sean barely holds back a dismissive chuckle. ... Ya know, look at his record? I mean, I get it. Sean nods. ... I was the top guy while he was trying to break out. I even gave him some advice back in the day! And... Sigh. ... Jealousy... it's ugly. Here he was... like... let's face it; Kind of a nobody, right? I mean he was OKAY but... you know... let's be honest? He wasn't at that level. So I beat him once and... Sean sighs again, his performative magnanimity at all-time-high levels. ... I guess he just couldn't let that go. He couldn't let it go that he was never at that level. I'm sure it must have been hard being stuck in the middle of the card... Sean nods compassionately. ... I'm sure it was... probably the hardest thing he's ever had to endure. Maybe... in that jealousy and bitterness he just... lashed out.
Sean pauses, nodding solemnly. He peers at the crowd, their eyes opened wide staring in what must be awe at how diplomatic and gracious he is being.
_Alex Sean_
I mean, let's face it. I'll admit, I don't follow the product as closely as I could but... What has he accomplished? I mean, is he even still wrestling? I haven't heard anything about him since like... what? 2013? Nodding again. ... I'm sure over the years he's had to live with the disappointment and maybe he's felt he needed someone to blame. I dunno, what do you think... Sean turns to Whitman. ... Gunnar?
His turn toward Whitman is met with a look of absolute mortification. Weird way to respond, but okay. He turned back to the crowd, at this point a noticeable amount getting up from their seats and exiting Hall A. The complete silence in the room affording their every step to echo throughout the room and, eventually, the loud clang of the double doors being pushed open then swinging closed.
_Alex Sean_
... Sean chuckles. ... Jesus... tough crowd tonight... I mean, who died?
There wasn't so much an audible gasp as much as the psychic presence of one. I mean it's as if... He froze, a jolt of terror running down Sean's spine. He turned to Whitman who, possibly possessing the shining, simply nodded slowly. Of course Shawn Malakai had died. That was just like him to do that. What a mess. What a mistake this was. He couldn't keep doing this to himself. Of course he was blowing it. How could he serve as the executor of Alex Sean's legacy when he is no longer Alex Sean? This was an embarrassment. Certainly a low point. Very likely impossible to get much worse.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Well folks I think it's safe to say that Alex Sean has more than lived up to his status as the most controversial man in professional wrestling!
A smattering of applause rings out, it seeming to indicate more of an agreement on the terms of Alex being an a**hole than anything.
_Gunnar Whitman_
But ya know... We've talked about Thunder; we've talked about Alex Sean's greatest nemesis Phillip Schneider...
Sean legitimately could only think of that time he kicked him in the face while he was in the middle of suplexing Meg. She was cool, though, he recalled.
_Gunnar Whitman_
... We've even talked about Shawn Malakai; God rest his soul. But uh... Gunnar turns toward Sean, a stupid, affectionate grin spread across his big, stupid, affectionate face. ... I think there might be somebody who's got a bone to pick with you that we might have forgotten.
Sean at once could conjure about two dozen names of people who would easily fit that description.
_Alex Sean_
I dunno um... Who could it...
The Monster was entirely caught off-guard as a sweaty forearm encircled his neck in what was either a playful or remarkably poorly executed rear naked choke. Sean was, in an instant, flooded with simultaneous rage at the intrusion of his personal space and embarrassment over being caught so completely unaware by his attack. Sean sprung out of his chair, turning the corner to see a man who for what he lacked in stature vertically, was well on his way to achieving horizontally. He looked up and down at this balding man; The horseshoe that adorned the sides of his head grown out in wispy, ratty looking strands that for some unimaginable reason he had chosen not to have the good graces to tie into a ponytail. Perhaps more to the point, Sean was absolutely certain he had never seen this individual at any other point in his life.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Ladies and gentlemen... please give a warm welcome to a surprise guest... Alex Sean's very first tag team partner...
"Word?"
_Gunnar Whitman_
One of the founders of Rated X...
"No sh**?"
_Gunnar Whitman_
Give it up for... Jay... Bee... BUTTKICKER!
The wide man approached Sean, a knowing smile across his face. Sean began stammering out some form of a modest greeting but was cut off by a big, quite damp, hug from JB.
_JB Buttkicker_
Howw long has it been, maaaaannn?
Was it possible he had Mandela Effected his way into an alternative reality where JB Buttkicker moonlighted as a dishwasher? Maybe those nerds that kept telling him about the two different Uppertakers were on to something.
_Alex Sean_
Ohh man... so.. so...
So... so.... so...
_Alex Sean_
... so ... very... long...
Sean tried to enjoy the moment. He really did. But he was truly lost. He was still feeling the sting of Buttkicker's sneak attack, moreover how defenseless he felt in his complete lack of preparedness for it. And before that, the mockery that was this whole event. He wondered if that was truly how people saw him? As some irredeemable, self-absorbed, egomaniacal a**hole. He thought about those song lyrics. What was the line? "He ain't got no friends in the wrestling game?" Sean looked at the stage. "Well, at least I've got JB Buttkicker." he thought.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Let's give it up folks for Rated X!
In his defense, this had generated the most audible response from the audience thus far. A few moments passed and out of the corner of his eye, Sean saw the signal come from a stagehand that the live, internet telecast of this event had concluded. It was almost over.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Ya know, Alex... Turning toward Sean. ... As you may have noticed, we weren't able to work out a deal with Kanye West for the rights to play "Monster" tonight.
"He’S a MoNsTeR! MoNsTeR! a BiG BaD MoNsTeR!"
_Alex Sean_
... I hadn't noticed...
_Gunnar Whitman_
But uh... Now that the pay-per-view is over... I think these fine folks in Hall A would be willing to keep this on the d-l.
Gunnar winks perfectly at the audience, his infallible charm becoming increasingly tiresome to an increasingly tired Alex Sean.
_Gunnar Whitman_
So let's hear it folks for Rated X... Turning toward JB Buttkicker. ... For JB Buttkicker... and, folks... Turning toward Sean. ... Let's hear it for AALLEEEEXXXX SHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWTIIIIIIIME!
Just as Gunnar spoke these words, the opening of "Linchpin" by Fear Factory begin chirping out of the karaoke rig, and Alex Sean was filled with a potent rage he had not felt in...
___☵ "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?" ☵___
"Who the f*** cares?" Alex thought. He stared at Whitman's perfectly warm, loving eyes atop his big, perfect smile brandishing his perfect, white teeth, and wanted to break all of them into a thousand pieces. Break every piece of him until they could never put the pieces back together again. He thought himself to be on some humpty dumpty sh** but, almost immediately, realized how stupid that sounded. Still, he felt how he felt. Alex Showtime? Sean was incensed. "How dare he make a mockery of me like this." Sean thought to himself, muttering under his breath with the tone of a thousand f***-yous. He wasn’t going to stand for this. He wasn’t going to let Gunnar Whitman treat him like a joke. Sean's belly filled with fire at the very thought of it, and for the first time in longer than he cared even to ask, he felt alive.
_Lamont Carter_
You got this, man.
Alex heard Lamont Carter's words of encouragement, but he did not acknowledge them. He was too preoccupied. Sean stared deep into his own, lifeless eyes, gazing at the bathroom mirror in the nearest restroom to Hall A. For a few moments, he had felt himself again. He had felt that fire in his belly. Now, he was in this bathroom being coached on by Lamont Carter, trying and failing, over and over, to rekindle that flame. He could muster up the grievances. Gunnar had no right springing JB on him like that, to call him Alex Showtime, to play that music. But he felt as if he were an empty lighter sparking the flint over and over with no reward of flame. His inability only further demoralized him, thoughts of his inadequacies filling the space where a fire should be. Gunnar had no right springing JB on him like that, and yet he sat there, defenseless, with a stupid, embarrassed smile on his face. Gunnar had no right to call him Alex Showtime, but who was he to make bold statements about who he was or wasn't? What nerve he had to play that music, and yet here Alex is, staring in this mirror, unable to do something about it. He couldn't bring back the feeling, not alone. Sean turned toward Lamont, nodding as confidently as he could, which was not much.
_Alex Sean_
I can do this.
The words had an inflection that sounded halfway a question.
_Lamont Carter_
You can do this, you got this.
Alex begins nodding his head, trying to drum up some fortitude.
_Alex Sean_
I'm not a... f***ing... joke, ya know?
_Lamont Carter_
I don't see anything funny in here.
_Alex Sean_
He's got no right!
_Lamont Carter_
No sir.
_Alex Sean_
How... f***ing... dare he... just... SPRING that jabroni on me like that? Catch me off guard like that?
_Lamont Carter_
Completely... defenseless...
Alex pauses, performing every bit of body language of a person ready to kick some ass and take names as he could recall. He nods his head enthusiastically, affirming his performative resolve.
_Alex Sean_
Yeah... let's do this.
Lamont Carter takes a moment to slap Sean firmly on the shoulder before they carefully avoid touching the door handle on the way out of one of the more uncleanly restrooms they had seen in a while. It was time to let Gunnar know just how he felt, give him a piece of his mind.
_Alex Sean_
I'ma... give this muh'f***er a piece of my mind.
Sean hadn't even noticed his adopted urban patois returning.
_Lamont Carter_
You just gon' give him a piece? How 'bout the whole... damn... cake.
Their stride decreased in intensity for a moment as Sean peered backward over his shoulder to Carter.
_Alex Sean_
F***in' yeah man, he's gon' get the whole f***in' cake! Icing, f***in'... sprinkles and sh**... It's coming.
_Lamont Carter_
You know I know.
_Alex Sean_
I know you know I know you know.
_Lamont Carter_
Let's do this.
_Alex Sean_
Let's do this.
Sean had mostly run out of trash to talk, which was fine, as they had finally found Gunnar Whitman standing next to JB Buttkicker and the smilingest motherf***er Alex had ever seen. Thick as thieves, they looked. Laughing, smiling, having a gay old time. "Maybe this is a bad time." Sean thought to himself, before shaking off the doubt and pressing forward. This was go time. He wasn't going to be made a fool of. Not by Gunnar, not by anyone. Gunnar looked up at Sean with those perfectly warm, sitcom father eyes of his. He seemed genuinely excited to see Alex again. Just awful. Sean didn't feel a fire in his belly, but he did feel poison in his veins and, for right now, that would do. He did, however, also feel there was a distinct possibility he was about to cry. With this in mind, Sean turned to Lamont and, through a bit of platonic-life-partner telepathy indicated his need to go this one alone, to which Lamont gracefully both acknowledged and, without so much as even appearing as if it weren't intentional, altered direction just as Sean reached Whitman.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Just the man I wanted to see! Gunnar turned toward his smiling, gushing friend. A young fellow; Well-dressed with distinct Fail-Son vibes. ... I want to introduce you to my friend here. Gunnar pats him on the back.
_Fail-Son_
... Pantomiming modesty like a f***ing cartoon bird. ... Oh stop it, Gunnar! You're too nice!
_Gunnar Whitman_
I better be, you're about to be preh-tee important in these here woods my friend.
They share a warm laugh together. It's horrible.
_Fail-Son_
We'll see! Ha ha... I mean this is like a dream, I might ask you to pinch me! I'm standing here between THE JB Buttkicker and... Turning toward Sean with reverence. ... a freaking legend! It's such a pleasure to meet you! I'm...
Sean wished, in that moment, that he could ink this dopey motherf***er like a squid. Alas, he could not, and he had no time to suffer fools. He scrunched his face in the most Daenerys Targaryen of fake smiles and shook the mark's hand.
_Alex Sean_
... Speaking in a flat, obligatory affect. ...It's great to meet you. Thank for your years of love and support.
Sean immediately released the Fail-Son's hand and turned toward Gunnar. He had to keep his composure. Be confrontational, but not emotional.
_Alex Sean_
Gunnar.... wha... what the ffF*** was THAT!?
The words landed like an unchained drawbridge. Maybe that was a lot, he thought, as Gunnar stared in his most "that was awkward" MCU banter face. He gave a quick and polite dismissal to the concerned faces of Fail-Son and JB Buttkicker who, without a word, shuffled off to an elsewhere. Gunnar leaned in, speaking with the intention of discretion.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Hey man... you can't be shouting like that... He points in the direction they had left. ... That guy over there? He's about to...
Sean didn't want to hear about the next era of wrestling NFTs or fan conventions. He promptly cut Gunnar off before he could even get started.
_Alex Sean_
Look, I don't give a F*** about that, what the f*** do you think you're doing, man?
Gunnar stared at Sean in confusion, his eyebrows crinkling in such a dramatically confused manner as to come off condescending.
_Gunnar Whitman_
... What am I doing? I don't know what you're talking about, pal. Gunnar huffs understandingly. so understanding, that Gunnar Whitman. ... You upset about the q and a?
_Alex Sean_
... Sean scoffs dismissively. ... The q and a? Man... f*** the q and a.
_Gunnar Whitman_
So what's your beef, pal?
_Alex Sean_
F***ing... the music? ... Putting on a sing-songy, imitating affect. ... Let's hear it for Alex Showtime?... Man, what the f*** was that?
Gunnar scoffs as if he were the most innocent man being told the most unlikely source for offense in the history of all humankind.
_Gunnar Whitman_
That? ... His demeaner softens, then he smiles, then he chuckles. The audacity. ... Man I was just givin' the people what they want.
Gunnar pats Sean on the shoulder prompting him to immediately slap the hand away.
_Alex Sean_
Man get your f***ing hands off me.
This seems to finally enlighten Whitman to the seriousness of the situation.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Look pal, I was just...
_Alex Sean_
I'm not some... some... f***ing... JOKE, man! You don't get to ju-just have some... f***ing GUY... grab me around the neck, alright? I'm a f***ing SIX TIME World Champion, man. I'm a God damn athlete... I'm not some... f***ing... comedy nostalgia act. Like... what the F***, man? This isn't what I signed up for. I didn't sign up to be made a fool of... and yeah you know what, f*** that q and a, now that you mention it. Like what the f*** is going on, man? You're supposed to be promoting me and-and-and... f***in... I'm getting eaten alive by a couple of f***ing marks.
Sean finally takes a moment to recompose himself, feeling the small tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. He looks around, realizing for the first time that, perhaps, such a public environment was not the optimal place for this confrontation. Fortunately, it seemed, most of the people who had been around had since dispersed. Sean looked back at Whitman who, perhaps for the first time he had seen, looked legitimately a little annoyed.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Look man... you want the truth?
Sean scoffed the scoffiest of scoffs.
_Alex Sean_
Do I want the... I mean, yeah, man. You think I want you to f***ing lie to me? Wha-wha-what? What do you got to say?
Gunnar took a deep breath, then sighed as if he had been dragged, forced, kicking and screaming to this revelation.
_Gunnar Whitman_
It's just... He sighs again. ... You're a tweenie.
_Alex Sean_
... Sean was aghast at the accusation. ... I'm not a f***ing... tweenie. You're a tweenie!
Gunnar stared at him with every square-inch of knowledge that Sean had no idea what a tweenie was.
_Alex Sean_
... Sigh. ... What the f***'s a tweenie?
Like a machine of fatherly warmth, Gunnar's disposition softens. Despicable.
_Gunnar Whitman_
It's an industry term, Alex. It's like... Look; you happen ta' pay much attention to the demographics around here, man?
_Alex Sean_
I mean... Not really... what are you getting at?
Gunnar leans in, looking from side to side before speaking in a mildly hushed town.
_Gunnar Whitman_
These people are... old... man. He nods. ... Like, still watch broadcast TV old... watchin'... Fox News and... NCIS.
_Alex Sean_
Is that even still on the air?
_Gunnar Whitman_
I don't know... 'cos I don't watch broadcast television... 'cos I'm not old.
Sean couldn't help but see his point.
_Alex Sean_
I mean... that makes sense... I guess...
_Gunnar Whitman_
And if it ain't someone who's a lil' older tryn'ta relive their childhood, it's like... kids... currently living their childhood.... So... yeah... you're... a tweenie. It just means you're... too young to be old and... too old to be relevant.
Sean stared at Gunnar and imagined his nose inverted.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Oh don't take it so personal, man! Look, I'm on your side, alright? Ya know, I invested in you, made you someone people might actually wanna pay money to see again. I promise man, I'm in the Alex Sean business, alright?
Alex couldn't argue. Kraig had put them in touch and Gunnar had invested in him at a point where nobody else was. Maybe he was wrong, he thought. Maybe he had overreacted.
_Alex Sean_
That's... fair... you're right...
_Gunnar Whitman_
And look man, while we're speaking candidly? I don't entirely appreciate you... cussin' up a storm at paying customers like that, alright?
He was probably right, Sean thought. What had he been thinking acting out like that? How was he ever gonna be a draw again? No wonder Gunnar was unhappy with him, he had invested in him, and Alex had thrown it right back in his face. What else would he do? Where else was he going to go? Sure, he didn't need the money. But the money wasn't really the point. He couldn't go back to how it was before this. This was at least something. He couldn't risk this.
_Alex Sean_
Look I'm... sorry... man... I just... Sigh. ... I just got overwhelmed and...
_Gunnar Whitman_
It's cool, man.
Gunnar closed the distance, placing his hand warmly on Sean's shoulder.
_Gunnar Whitman_
I get it, these people can be preh-tee rough in this game. But you can't let 'em see ya squirm, pal.
His fatherly hand patted a defeated Alex Sean on the shoulder.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Look you might be a... FIVE time... World Champion...
_Alex Sean_
... Speaking in the smallest of voices. ... It's six... six times...
_Gunnar Whitman_
Sure, whatever. Either way, that was your wheelhouse. Around here? I'm the champ, alright pal? So trust me. Right now... you're still finding your footing, still a lil' wet behind the ears. Eventually, you'll have it figured out.
_Alex Sean_
I'm... I'm trying, man.
_Gunnar Whitman_
I know, pal. This is why I think this Rated X Reunion idea is such a winner, alright? Let these folks see you for who they remember you as, man. Look how they reacted in there! They love Rated X, and they sure as hell love... Alex Showtime.
Sean looked up in the eyes of Gunnar Whitman. Eyes that were more sure of this than anything Alex had been in any sort of recent history. Alex couldn't understand. How could Gunnar be so sure about who he was when he wasn't?
_Alex Sean_
Look man... I just... Sean shakes his head. ... I dunno about all that. I was a world champion, man. I'm an athlete, you know? Not some... goofball... f***in'... nostalgia act, you know?
_Gunnar Whitman_
Look pal, the truth is? These people? They don't care about the titles or the accolades or any of that stuff. They're not here to see the guy with the most WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS. They wanna see the guys they remember from when they were young play the hits, you feel me? Maybe in ten... maybe fifteen years when the people who were kids when you were doing your thing... you might just be my top draw then but... right now... Gunnar nods. ... We might have to get a little creative. For the people who come to these things, Alex Showtime was probably the most important thing you ever did in your career. So let's GIVE THEM what they want, man. A little hair dye, maybe some leather pants... Man, they WANT to see that guy they remember. Let them see him, man.
There was no way. Right? There couldn't be. Not that way. At least... not at first. Maybe eventually, maybe he could... ease-in to something like that.
_Alex Sean_
.... Look... How about... I'll do whatever... ya know... Rated X reunion business you want with JB... but... I can't do the Alex Showtime thing, alright? I just... I-I...
_Gunnar Whitman_
Hey, let's maybe revisit it another time, alright? We'll get this Rated X Reunion going, and... when you like it, and I know you will... we'll talk, alright pal?
Gunnar slaps Sean in the arm hard enough to genuinely startle him.
_Alex Sean_
Yeah man... sounds good...
_Gunnar Whitman_
Ha ha... alright pal, well look; I've got some stuff I gotta take care of so... we'll catch up later, alright?
_Alex Sean_
For sure.
_Gunnar Whitman_
See ya, pal!
_Alex Sean_
Yeah...
Gunnar Whitman turned and departed as jovial as ever. Sean could no longer muster being angry, or annoyed, or any sort of useful emotion. He could only stand there watching Whitman leave marinating in a bone-deep sense of defeat. After a few moments, so few as to make it clear he was close enough to have heard the entire conversation, Lamont Carter approaches Alex Sean from the side.
_Lamont Carter_
I could still punch that motherf***er in the throat if you'd like. Hell I'll do it for free.
_Alex Sean_
Nah man... it's cool...
Lamont had a unique ability to lift Alex's spirits, but there was no use in that right now. It appeared like he knew that; Understanding after Sean's words that his best form of support would be to ignore the indignity he just watched his benefactor endure.
_Alex Sean_
Hey um... You think you can find a way home from here? I think I need some time to... clear my head...
_Lamont Carter_
Yeah mang, I'll figure somethin' out. I'll see ya back at the crib, alright?
_Alex Sean_
Of course... Thanks man...
Lamont opted for a light fist bump and in his smooth, cat-like way, slipped out of sight of the lobby at the Baltimore Convention Center. Sean peered around, realizing only in that moment the sun had begun to set, and he was alone.
You got this, man.
Alex heard Lamont Carter's words of encouragement, but he did not acknowledge them. He was too preoccupied. Sean stared deep into his own, lifeless eyes, gazing at the bathroom mirror in the nearest restroom to Hall A. For a few moments, he had felt himself again. He had felt that fire in his belly. Now, he was in this bathroom being coached on by Lamont Carter, trying and failing, over and over, to rekindle that flame. He could muster up the grievances. Gunnar had no right springing JB on him like that, to call him Alex Showtime, to play that music. But he felt as if he were an empty lighter sparking the flint over and over with no reward of flame. His inability only further demoralized him, thoughts of his inadequacies filling the space where a fire should be. Gunnar had no right springing JB on him like that, and yet he sat there, defenseless, with a stupid, embarrassed smile on his face. Gunnar had no right to call him Alex Showtime, but who was he to make bold statements about who he was or wasn't? What nerve he had to play that music, and yet here Alex is, staring in this mirror, unable to do something about it. He couldn't bring back the feeling, not alone. Sean turned toward Lamont, nodding as confidently as he could, which was not much.
_Alex Sean_
I can do this.
The words had an inflection that sounded halfway a question.
_Lamont Carter_
You can do this, you got this.
Alex begins nodding his head, trying to drum up some fortitude.
_Alex Sean_
I'm not a... f***ing... joke, ya know?
_Lamont Carter_
I don't see anything funny in here.
_Alex Sean_
He's got no right!
_Lamont Carter_
No sir.
_Alex Sean_
How... f***ing... dare he... just... SPRING that jabroni on me like that? Catch me off guard like that?
_Lamont Carter_
Completely... defenseless...
Alex pauses, performing every bit of body language of a person ready to kick some ass and take names as he could recall. He nods his head enthusiastically, affirming his performative resolve.
_Alex Sean_
Yeah... let's do this.
Lamont Carter takes a moment to slap Sean firmly on the shoulder before they carefully avoid touching the door handle on the way out of one of the more uncleanly restrooms they had seen in a while. It was time to let Gunnar know just how he felt, give him a piece of his mind.
_Alex Sean_
I'ma... give this muh'f***er a piece of my mind.
Sean hadn't even noticed his adopted urban patois returning.
_Lamont Carter_
You just gon' give him a piece? How 'bout the whole... damn... cake.
Their stride decreased in intensity for a moment as Sean peered backward over his shoulder to Carter.
_Alex Sean_
F***in' yeah man, he's gon' get the whole f***in' cake! Icing, f***in'... sprinkles and sh**... It's coming.
_Lamont Carter_
You know I know.
_Alex Sean_
I know you know I know you know.
_Lamont Carter_
Let's do this.
_Alex Sean_
Let's do this.
Sean had mostly run out of trash to talk, which was fine, as they had finally found Gunnar Whitman standing next to JB Buttkicker and the smilingest motherf***er Alex had ever seen. Thick as thieves, they looked. Laughing, smiling, having a gay old time. "Maybe this is a bad time." Sean thought to himself, before shaking off the doubt and pressing forward. This was go time. He wasn't going to be made a fool of. Not by Gunnar, not by anyone. Gunnar looked up at Sean with those perfectly warm, sitcom father eyes of his. He seemed genuinely excited to see Alex again. Just awful. Sean didn't feel a fire in his belly, but he did feel poison in his veins and, for right now, that would do. He did, however, also feel there was a distinct possibility he was about to cry. With this in mind, Sean turned to Lamont and, through a bit of platonic-life-partner telepathy indicated his need to go this one alone, to which Lamont gracefully both acknowledged and, without so much as even appearing as if it weren't intentional, altered direction just as Sean reached Whitman.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Just the man I wanted to see! Gunnar turned toward his smiling, gushing friend. A young fellow; Well-dressed with distinct Fail-Son vibes. ... I want to introduce you to my friend here. Gunnar pats him on the back.
_Fail-Son_
... Pantomiming modesty like a f***ing cartoon bird. ... Oh stop it, Gunnar! You're too nice!
_Gunnar Whitman_
I better be, you're about to be preh-tee important in these here woods my friend.
They share a warm laugh together. It's horrible.
_Fail-Son_
We'll see! Ha ha... I mean this is like a dream, I might ask you to pinch me! I'm standing here between THE JB Buttkicker and... Turning toward Sean with reverence. ... a freaking legend! It's such a pleasure to meet you! I'm...
Sean wished, in that moment, that he could ink this dopey motherf***er like a squid. Alas, he could not, and he had no time to suffer fools. He scrunched his face in the most Daenerys Targaryen of fake smiles and shook the mark's hand.
_Alex Sean_
... Speaking in a flat, obligatory affect. ...It's great to meet you. Thank for your years of love and support.
Sean immediately released the Fail-Son's hand and turned toward Gunnar. He had to keep his composure. Be confrontational, but not emotional.
_Alex Sean_
Gunnar.... wha... what the ffF*** was THAT!?
The words landed like an unchained drawbridge. Maybe that was a lot, he thought, as Gunnar stared in his most "that was awkward" MCU banter face. He gave a quick and polite dismissal to the concerned faces of Fail-Son and JB Buttkicker who, without a word, shuffled off to an elsewhere. Gunnar leaned in, speaking with the intention of discretion.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Hey man... you can't be shouting like that... He points in the direction they had left. ... That guy over there? He's about to...
Sean didn't want to hear about the next era of wrestling NFTs or fan conventions. He promptly cut Gunnar off before he could even get started.
_Alex Sean_
Look, I don't give a F*** about that, what the f*** do you think you're doing, man?
Gunnar stared at Sean in confusion, his eyebrows crinkling in such a dramatically confused manner as to come off condescending.
_Gunnar Whitman_
... What am I doing? I don't know what you're talking about, pal. Gunnar huffs understandingly. so understanding, that Gunnar Whitman. ... You upset about the q and a?
_Alex Sean_
... Sean scoffs dismissively. ... The q and a? Man... f*** the q and a.
_Gunnar Whitman_
So what's your beef, pal?
_Alex Sean_
F***ing... the music? ... Putting on a sing-songy, imitating affect. ... Let's hear it for Alex Showtime?... Man, what the f*** was that?
Gunnar scoffs as if he were the most innocent man being told the most unlikely source for offense in the history of all humankind.
_Gunnar Whitman_
That? ... His demeaner softens, then he smiles, then he chuckles. The audacity. ... Man I was just givin' the people what they want.
Gunnar pats Sean on the shoulder prompting him to immediately slap the hand away.
_Alex Sean_
Man get your f***ing hands off me.
This seems to finally enlighten Whitman to the seriousness of the situation.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Look pal, I was just...
_Alex Sean_
I'm not some... some... f***ing... JOKE, man! You don't get to ju-just have some... f***ing GUY... grab me around the neck, alright? I'm a f***ing SIX TIME World Champion, man. I'm a God damn athlete... I'm not some... f***ing... comedy nostalgia act. Like... what the F***, man? This isn't what I signed up for. I didn't sign up to be made a fool of... and yeah you know what, f*** that q and a, now that you mention it. Like what the f*** is going on, man? You're supposed to be promoting me and-and-and... f***in... I'm getting eaten alive by a couple of f***ing marks.
Sean finally takes a moment to recompose himself, feeling the small tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. He looks around, realizing for the first time that, perhaps, such a public environment was not the optimal place for this confrontation. Fortunately, it seemed, most of the people who had been around had since dispersed. Sean looked back at Whitman who, perhaps for the first time he had seen, looked legitimately a little annoyed.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Look man... you want the truth?
Sean scoffed the scoffiest of scoffs.
_Alex Sean_
Do I want the... I mean, yeah, man. You think I want you to f***ing lie to me? Wha-wha-what? What do you got to say?
Gunnar took a deep breath, then sighed as if he had been dragged, forced, kicking and screaming to this revelation.
_Gunnar Whitman_
It's just... He sighs again. ... You're a tweenie.
_Alex Sean_
... Sean was aghast at the accusation. ... I'm not a f***ing... tweenie. You're a tweenie!
Gunnar stared at him with every square-inch of knowledge that Sean had no idea what a tweenie was.
_Alex Sean_
... Sigh. ... What the f***'s a tweenie?
Like a machine of fatherly warmth, Gunnar's disposition softens. Despicable.
_Gunnar Whitman_
It's an industry term, Alex. It's like... Look; you happen ta' pay much attention to the demographics around here, man?
_Alex Sean_
I mean... Not really... what are you getting at?
Gunnar leans in, looking from side to side before speaking in a mildly hushed town.
_Gunnar Whitman_
These people are... old... man. He nods. ... Like, still watch broadcast TV old... watchin'... Fox News and... NCIS.
_Alex Sean_
Is that even still on the air?
_Gunnar Whitman_
I don't know... 'cos I don't watch broadcast television... 'cos I'm not old.
Sean couldn't help but see his point.
_Alex Sean_
I mean... that makes sense... I guess...
_Gunnar Whitman_
And if it ain't someone who's a lil' older tryn'ta relive their childhood, it's like... kids... currently living their childhood.... So... yeah... you're... a tweenie. It just means you're... too young to be old and... too old to be relevant.
Sean stared at Gunnar and imagined his nose inverted.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Oh don't take it so personal, man! Look, I'm on your side, alright? Ya know, I invested in you, made you someone people might actually wanna pay money to see again. I promise man, I'm in the Alex Sean business, alright?
Alex couldn't argue. Kraig had put them in touch and Gunnar had invested in him at a point where nobody else was. Maybe he was wrong, he thought. Maybe he had overreacted.
_Alex Sean_
That's... fair... you're right...
_Gunnar Whitman_
And look man, while we're speaking candidly? I don't entirely appreciate you... cussin' up a storm at paying customers like that, alright?
He was probably right, Sean thought. What had he been thinking acting out like that? How was he ever gonna be a draw again? No wonder Gunnar was unhappy with him, he had invested in him, and Alex had thrown it right back in his face. What else would he do? Where else was he going to go? Sure, he didn't need the money. But the money wasn't really the point. He couldn't go back to how it was before this. This was at least something. He couldn't risk this.
_Alex Sean_
Look I'm... sorry... man... I just... Sigh. ... I just got overwhelmed and...
_Gunnar Whitman_
It's cool, man.
Gunnar closed the distance, placing his hand warmly on Sean's shoulder.
_Gunnar Whitman_
I get it, these people can be preh-tee rough in this game. But you can't let 'em see ya squirm, pal.
His fatherly hand patted a defeated Alex Sean on the shoulder.
_Gunnar Whitman_
Look you might be a... FIVE time... World Champion...
_Alex Sean_
... Speaking in the smallest of voices. ... It's six... six times...
_Gunnar Whitman_
Sure, whatever. Either way, that was your wheelhouse. Around here? I'm the champ, alright pal? So trust me. Right now... you're still finding your footing, still a lil' wet behind the ears. Eventually, you'll have it figured out.
_Alex Sean_
I'm... I'm trying, man.
_Gunnar Whitman_
I know, pal. This is why I think this Rated X Reunion idea is such a winner, alright? Let these folks see you for who they remember you as, man. Look how they reacted in there! They love Rated X, and they sure as hell love... Alex Showtime.
Sean looked up in the eyes of Gunnar Whitman. Eyes that were more sure of this than anything Alex had been in any sort of recent history. Alex couldn't understand. How could Gunnar be so sure about who he was when he wasn't?
_Alex Sean_
Look man... I just... Sean shakes his head. ... I dunno about all that. I was a world champion, man. I'm an athlete, you know? Not some... goofball... f***in'... nostalgia act, you know?
_Gunnar Whitman_
Look pal, the truth is? These people? They don't care about the titles or the accolades or any of that stuff. They're not here to see the guy with the most WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS. They wanna see the guys they remember from when they were young play the hits, you feel me? Maybe in ten... maybe fifteen years when the people who were kids when you were doing your thing... you might just be my top draw then but... right now... Gunnar nods. ... We might have to get a little creative. For the people who come to these things, Alex Showtime was probably the most important thing you ever did in your career. So let's GIVE THEM what they want, man. A little hair dye, maybe some leather pants... Man, they WANT to see that guy they remember. Let them see him, man.
There was no way. Right? There couldn't be. Not that way. At least... not at first. Maybe eventually, maybe he could... ease-in to something like that.
_Alex Sean_
.... Look... How about... I'll do whatever... ya know... Rated X reunion business you want with JB... but... I can't do the Alex Showtime thing, alright? I just... I-I...
_Gunnar Whitman_
Hey, let's maybe revisit it another time, alright? We'll get this Rated X Reunion going, and... when you like it, and I know you will... we'll talk, alright pal?
Gunnar slaps Sean in the arm hard enough to genuinely startle him.
_Alex Sean_
Yeah man... sounds good...
_Gunnar Whitman_
Ha ha... alright pal, well look; I've got some stuff I gotta take care of so... we'll catch up later, alright?
_Alex Sean_
For sure.
_Gunnar Whitman_
See ya, pal!
_Alex Sean_
Yeah...
Gunnar Whitman turned and departed as jovial as ever. Sean could no longer muster being angry, or annoyed, or any sort of useful emotion. He could only stand there watching Whitman leave marinating in a bone-deep sense of defeat. After a few moments, so few as to make it clear he was close enough to have heard the entire conversation, Lamont Carter approaches Alex Sean from the side.
_Lamont Carter_
I could still punch that motherf***er in the throat if you'd like. Hell I'll do it for free.
_Alex Sean_
Nah man... it's cool...
Lamont had a unique ability to lift Alex's spirits, but there was no use in that right now. It appeared like he knew that; Understanding after Sean's words that his best form of support would be to ignore the indignity he just watched his benefactor endure.
_Alex Sean_
Hey um... You think you can find a way home from here? I think I need some time to... clear my head...
_Lamont Carter_
Yeah mang, I'll figure somethin' out. I'll see ya back at the crib, alright?
_Alex Sean_
Of course... Thanks man...
Lamont opted for a light fist bump and in his smooth, cat-like way, slipped out of sight of the lobby at the Baltimore Convention Center. Sean peered around, realizing only in that moment the sun had begun to set, and he was alone.
Alex spent the next several hours driving around the city he called his home. Baltimore. There was a time where Alex felt like the prince of this city. He would walk its streets, he was a part of the community, he would occasionally cut promos in the middle of the night to nobody at all. It seemed so ridiculous now. But it was easy to judge, wasn't it? He thought to himself. It was easy now to look back at the eccentricities he exhibited with an ironic distance. How silly he must have looked being filled with all that passion and meaning. No, surely this cold, empty, meaningless life he had found himself imprisoned within was better. He drove for hours, passing by his old haunts, driving deep into the heart of the city where the pedestrians crossed streets like exemplars of the dangers of lead paint exposure. Deep enough where the row homes were propped up with long wooden beams and alternated occupied units with burned out, condemned ones. Nothing ever seemed to change no matter how many times he came back here. This city, like so many others, had been forgotten. It was left to rot away until there was nothing left to salvage.
After some time, Sean navigated his way to the harbor and, carefully, navigated his way to a pier that looked out over the bay. He stared out into that black ocean, and he thought about the millions of life forms populating its depths. He thought and he wondered if the Buddhists were right. Do we come back as something else after we die? Could it be we all have countless numbers of past lives, stretching all the way back to the beginning of life itself? It wasn't unimaginable to him. After all, he used to be someone else, in a past life. Why not someone, or something else before that? Sean thought again about the ocean and its inhabitants. He wondered, what if he had once been one of them? Alex imagined flying through the black; weightless, thoughtless. No self-awareness, no understanding of time. If reincarnation is true, he had to have been. If he had been around since the beginning of all life, surely the odds favored he would have, at some point, been a fish, or a crab, or hell, even just a sea urchin. It would be far more unlikely that he wouldn’t have been.
Sean thought about the life of a fish, the life of all things, really. The circular nature of it all. He thought about the bottom of the ocean in all its emptiness. He imagined if he had once been a fish he would know, somehow, not to descend. Instincts, probably, or Something even deeper than instinct; something primordial. He would understand, on some level, all that lies at the bottom of that black is a graveyard. He imagined an aging fish, its skin dull and grey, whose fins had grown too weak to keep him from sinking, having evaded a sudden, brutal death in favor of a slow fall into oblivion. Maybe he was here once. Maybe some form of himself had swim in this bay at some point in time. Maybe he had grown tired, maybe this was where it ended. Maybe his bones, now long returned to the soil, are sitting in some form at the bottom of all that darkness. He imagined staring back up at himself through the water, his face wrinkled and distorted by the waves.
Alex sat at that pier staring out at the ocean all through the night and into the early morning. The sun rose above the horizon and bathed his face in warm light. He closed his eyes, and, for a short while, he could remember what it was like to feel whole again. He thought about those moments of clarity where the image would come into focus, the thrill of imagining what it would be like when it all came to pass. He remembered what it was like to imagine a future. Sadly, the future is no longer what it was. The memory of the feeling of his past self was growing increasingly distant and harder to reach, sinking farther down in the black depths with all the other things he had once known and had now forgotten about himself. Each time he accessed the feeling, it was as if he was corrupting it. With each instance, a fragment of its authenticity shed in favor of his invasion. He wondered if he was now only remembering himself remembering how it had once felt to feel that way. Soon there would be nothing left of the feeling. Nothing to remember and, eventually, nobody left to remember it.
Gradually, the feeling drifted away from him, and he was left, once more, alone on that pier. He stared out at the sunlit ocean amidst the soundtrack of waves, squawking gulls, and the increasing hustle and bustle of the city behind him, the morning coming once more into existence. He thought again about reincarnation. He thought about thinking about what came before and wondered if anyone would ever think about him the same way? Eventually, nobody would be left who remembered what he was and what that meant to him. For that matter, nobody would be left who remembered what he wasn’t or what didn’t mean anything to him at all. He would fade from all conscious memory and just have been something that had once lived. But maybe, sometime in the future, he would think about himself in a past life; He would wonder who he was and in some way, Alex Sean would return from the dead. Returned but unrecognized. He imagined existing again far into the future but unable to interact, unable to impact the world around him, unable to change even himself. He contemplated this concept; it didn’t feel entirely unfamiliar. Perhaps we do come back after we die, he thought. But that doesn’t mean the Buddhists are right. Reincarnation is not the only form of life after death.
After some time, Sean navigated his way to the harbor and, carefully, navigated his way to a pier that looked out over the bay. He stared out into that black ocean, and he thought about the millions of life forms populating its depths. He thought and he wondered if the Buddhists were right. Do we come back as something else after we die? Could it be we all have countless numbers of past lives, stretching all the way back to the beginning of life itself? It wasn't unimaginable to him. After all, he used to be someone else, in a past life. Why not someone, or something else before that? Sean thought again about the ocean and its inhabitants. He wondered, what if he had once been one of them? Alex imagined flying through the black; weightless, thoughtless. No self-awareness, no understanding of time. If reincarnation is true, he had to have been. If he had been around since the beginning of all life, surely the odds favored he would have, at some point, been a fish, or a crab, or hell, even just a sea urchin. It would be far more unlikely that he wouldn’t have been.
Sean thought about the life of a fish, the life of all things, really. The circular nature of it all. He thought about the bottom of the ocean in all its emptiness. He imagined if he had once been a fish he would know, somehow, not to descend. Instincts, probably, or Something even deeper than instinct; something primordial. He would understand, on some level, all that lies at the bottom of that black is a graveyard. He imagined an aging fish, its skin dull and grey, whose fins had grown too weak to keep him from sinking, having evaded a sudden, brutal death in favor of a slow fall into oblivion. Maybe he was here once. Maybe some form of himself had swim in this bay at some point in time. Maybe he had grown tired, maybe this was where it ended. Maybe his bones, now long returned to the soil, are sitting in some form at the bottom of all that darkness. He imagined staring back up at himself through the water, his face wrinkled and distorted by the waves.
Alex sat at that pier staring out at the ocean all through the night and into the early morning. The sun rose above the horizon and bathed his face in warm light. He closed his eyes, and, for a short while, he could remember what it was like to feel whole again. He thought about those moments of clarity where the image would come into focus, the thrill of imagining what it would be like when it all came to pass. He remembered what it was like to imagine a future. Sadly, the future is no longer what it was. The memory of the feeling of his past self was growing increasingly distant and harder to reach, sinking farther down in the black depths with all the other things he had once known and had now forgotten about himself. Each time he accessed the feeling, it was as if he was corrupting it. With each instance, a fragment of its authenticity shed in favor of his invasion. He wondered if he was now only remembering himself remembering how it had once felt to feel that way. Soon there would be nothing left of the feeling. Nothing to remember and, eventually, nobody left to remember it.
Gradually, the feeling drifted away from him, and he was left, once more, alone on that pier. He stared out at the sunlit ocean amidst the soundtrack of waves, squawking gulls, and the increasing hustle and bustle of the city behind him, the morning coming once more into existence. He thought again about reincarnation. He thought about thinking about what came before and wondered if anyone would ever think about him the same way? Eventually, nobody would be left who remembered what he was and what that meant to him. For that matter, nobody would be left who remembered what he wasn’t or what didn’t mean anything to him at all. He would fade from all conscious memory and just have been something that had once lived. But maybe, sometime in the future, he would think about himself in a past life; He would wonder who he was and in some way, Alex Sean would return from the dead. Returned but unrecognized. He imagined existing again far into the future but unable to interact, unable to impact the world around him, unable to change even himself. He contemplated this concept; it didn’t feel entirely unfamiliar. Perhaps we do come back after we die, he thought. But that doesn’t mean the Buddhists are right. Reincarnation is not the only form of life after death.
This was an interesting piece that definitely expanded on the original piece and took us further down the road of Alex Sean in this "rebirth" as a wrestling persona. The progression of this particular piece shows me just how lost Alex Sean has become as the years have gone on. There's also the view of "rose colored glasses" where he maybe doesn't remember or see the less favorable tendencies he had in his previous peak years. Him running down Shawn Malakai ignorant of the fact that he'd passed actually got me pretty good. The Q and A portion was where most of your fare was most recognizable and enjoyable, a good subtle blend of self depreciating humor and the trademark perception of events from an internal way that is hallmark of our shared writing style. Also the cast of characters is just delightful. from the mouth breather on down to that incel Knight in Shining Armor loser 
