Post by Howard Black on May 22, 2015 13:37:35 GMT -5
Hostal Victoria
Mexico City, Mexico
May 19th, 2015 11:00 am
Howard Black: This is bullshit, Dave, and you know it.
Howard Black sat at the simple, worn old bed with the tattered sheets of his hostel room. His hand gripped his phone white-knuckle angry and his face was creased with lines of stress and frustration. His lips were pulled down into a frown, and he drummed his fingers impatiently on his knee. When he was riled, it was always difficult for Howard to stay still. If not his fingers, he’d be tapping his foot, perhaps, or clicking his tongue. The voice of David Rogers, the long-suffering patient as the Buddha manager, was filled with sympathy and perhaps his own hint of frustration.
David Rogers: Look, Howie, I know, okay? You don’t have to tell me; I know. I’m your manager for Christ’s sake. But you’re overblowing this in your head. I doubt it’s some conspiracy, Seth probably just forgot.
Howard’s voice raised in anger and frustration. A bark like a rabid dog escaped his mouth now, like a bottle blowing its top.
Howard Black: No, that’s bullshit! He runs the fucking company and that doesn’t even make sense!
The rise in Howard’s voice prompted a shift in David’s tone: stern and blunt. It was the sort of move a man who knew Howard well had figured out as the best way to deal with him. Assert dominance. Stand your ground.
David Rogers: HOWARD! You forget that this is the same Seth Lerch who didn’t even recognize his own Tag Team Champion Kaz Mazy when confronted by him. A champion. The guy’s either malicious or an idiot, but I hedge my bets to the latter.
A pause followed the comment as Howard stopped drumming his fingers. The nervous tension in his shoulders eased visible but did not completely disperse. His voice dropped to a neutral tone, tinged with an apologetic edge.
Howard Black: You’re right. Probably. I just don’t know. Like AdM is coming up, and I got nothing. Occulo’s doing something, Dune’s doing something, and old Howie Black still ain’t penciled in. I’ve been sitting on this, Dave. Waiting. I’m hungry. I earned this shot. This should be mine.
David matched the downshift in tone, his voice losing the firmness and taking a more concillatory edge.
David Rogers: You’re right. It should be yours. But you’re sounding more thirsty than hungry, Howie. Never get thirsty.
Howard Black: Like, they’re giving this to Snapz. Snapz for God’s sake. This is the same chump who fucked up the US title match and cost Occulo the belt against Kaz. And Occulo still hasn’t gotten a rematch. And now you’re telling me Mikey eXtreme is more deserving than I am? I’m starting to get why Gemini Battle started making threats; this is absurd.
Howard paused for a moment, turning the situation back in forth in his head like a detective over a crime scene.
Howard Black: You think… Bates has something to do with it?
David Rogers: Come again?
Howard Black: I mean, Bates and his DRG got all cozy with Seth. Danny’s gunning for Occulo. Think Bates was behind Snapz getting the shot over me? Like he asks me to do that PSA, get me friendly. Then hope I’ll let it go or something.
David Rogers: You’re going to stop right there. Howard, listen to me: if Seth isn’t malicious, Bates sure as shit isn’t. You have no reason to suspect foul play. Zero.
Howard Black: But David, you don’t think it seems too perfect? Too convenient?
David Rogers: Fuck no, I don’t. And if there was any sense of scheming, it’s that Seth doesn’t want someone breaking Bates’s face right before the PPV. Think about it, Howard: you’re running a fed, and one of your champions is involved in a big time tournament at the upcoming pay-per-view which has lasted three weeks. One guy’s already got a broken arm; would you put the TV Champ in a match against some scrapper who fights like a badger on PCP?
Howard Black: I’d do what’s fair, Dave! I earned this shot!
David Rogers: And you’ll get it! Howie, I’m your agent; I’m not going to let them drop the ball on this. But try to think of it this way: would you rather have a one-off, no stakes fight against Bates on Slam or stay hungry until a big stage and knock him out?
Howard went quiet. David, as per usual, had hit right on the money with him, and in moments like this he wondered why he’d chosen a college friend to be his manager. Anyone who knew him that well.
David Rogers: I know you, Howie. You want the light and cameras. You’re a generally minimal guy, but you like to feel important. You’re a country boy who went to the big city for the lights. Forget this. You got a warm-up match this week, and you’ll get a warm-up during AdM. You go kick in Seth Lerch’s door and demand a big shot at Bates. Not some episode of Slam: you want a Pay-Per-View. You want a headliner. You go knock around the Chrono Rippers, Poondock Saints, and the DRG. You wanna show you’re deserving? Go kick in the head of the US and Tag Champ, beat one of the guys in the Trios Cup finals, and pin a former World Champ again.
Howard Black: Yeah. Warm-up. You’re right, David. I know you are.
David Rogers: Goddamn right I am. And you’re gonna be fine, kid. Now look, I booked you an interview for later this week. Local papers, couple American websites. Maybe Bleacher Report. There’s big hype with AdM around the corner. You’re noticed, kid. They want your words.
Howard Black: What day is that?
David Rogers: Thursday. It’s at the arena. Be there noon, sharp. In fact, be there early. Get ready. Comb your hair, shave your neckbeard. Practice that smile a bit.
Howard Black: Okay. Will do.
David Rogers: And don’t forget, Howie, you got this on lock. You and Occulo got a lot of momentum back last week. You both need this win, and you got it in you. Don’t second guess.
Howard Black: Naw, David. Not second guessing.
David Rogers: That’s what I like to hear. I’ll see you next week.
Howard Black: Later.
A click through the speaker signaled the end of the call. Howard set the phone down on the bed next to him, staring at the half-empty bottle of rotgut tequila sitting on the floor by the window.
David’s probably got a point. Nothing malicious. Just how booking works. Maybe I should be flattered. Best for last? Something like that? But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels cheap. I feel robbed. I’ve been kinda bobbing around now since the Trios Cup ended. I got this trio. I’m a Sentinel. And I’m thankful for it. I love rubbing elbows with Occulo weekly. I love cheering on Dune as climbs the mountain. And soon we’re gonna be on top: World Champ Dune, US Champ Occulo, and TV Champ Howie Black. But maybe that’s why I’m so pissed. It feels like we’re getting held back. Lerch? Lerch has his guys hand-picked: Tommy Bates, Deuce, Gemini, Fly, Orbit, and Corey. New guys and the DRG. Shit, motherfucking Pantheon’s getting thrown under the bus.
Not saying guys ain’t earned it. They have. Maybe. Those six. Then you got Mikey eXtreme for the US Championship match, and what’s this guy done besides beat up jobbers, ride the DRG coattails, and beat Logan in a match he got dragged kicking and screaming into? Mikey eXtreme is more deserving than me? Than Occulo? You’re making Occulo earn a rematch for a title he lost on no fault of his own? Because Kaz pinned that fucking loser Snapz who’s now got my TV Title shot?! Kyle Kemp’s been here a couple weeks and he gets a shot at the Internet Championship, Vulgar’s here a few weeks and has a shot at the People’s Championship, and I’m in another fucking tornado tag match. Fuck, Zione Redington got more title shots than I have, and that scrub’s turned tail in shame.
That’s fucked up. I’ve been grinding. I’ve gone toe-to-toe with mean sumbitches for weeks. I pinned a former World Champ, and I got up after a Cab Ride. I got tapped to sit at the big boy table, and I’m the last of my class of rookies standing. Fucking chicken feed. Table scraps. Solidarity for that weird fucker Gemini Battle; they gonna make me take out Z-Mac to prove I got it, too? It’s fucked. Seth’s behind this. Holding me back.
Then reality came crashing down on Howard. As he processed the thoughts that just went through his head, his eyes widened and he let out a shocked, embarrassed breath.
You sound like Joey Flash. Fuck, you sound like Grime. Seth Lerch is out to get you? Holy shit, Howard. No. You’re out of your fucking mind. Your pride’s hurt and you start tossing blame. Don’t be ridiculous. Tommy Bates ain’t got nothing to do with this. Dave’s probably right about holding off. Maybe. It just seems too perfect. Too convenient.
He stood up from the bed and walked towards the door of his room. He ignored the Wolf-Headed Man standing silently in the corner. The growling in his stomach was demanding food, and the paycheck he’d gotten for his last match enabled him to eat something besides cheap chorizo tacos. Perhaps today he’d have fajitas.
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I wake up every morning at 7:00 am and hit the streets. No shower. No breakfast. That can wait. The city’s roused only slightly: barely stirring from its slumber and only vibrating with the harbinger of the morning commute, when these streets and avenues will be filled to the veins with cars and busses. I don’t need that; God gave me two legs to carry me where I need for now. And carry they do.
The air in Mexico is humid even at the break of dawn. It’s that time when the dew may still be kissing the grass, and the noise may be just below a murmur. That’s when I hunt. When my soles slap the pavement in a brisk jog as I glide down the Paseo de la Reforma from the Hostal Victoria towards Bosque de Chapultepec. One wolf on the prowl tearing through this streets. El Nino ain’t been kind lately; on a few mornings, it’s been pouring cats and dogs. That’s never stopped me. Today, I’m lucky, and it’s only the blanketing thickness of sticky humidity.
After a mile, I swerve a left into the park and lose myself amongst the trees and grass. It’s empty right now, save maybe a few bums and other like-minded runners, taking advantage of the serenity to keep a proper pace. I pass them all. I don’t slow, even as the lung begin to burn with the dirty city air and smell of cypress trees.
Further on is Lago de Chapultepec. I lap it twice, letting the sweat course out of me as the surge flows through me. My feet are aching, but there’s no time to let that hinder me. It’s been half an hour, and the city comes more to life with each passing moment. The fog from last night’s binge has completely left my head. I’m alive again. Just I and these park woods; an animal and the wild.
As I make my way back through the trees towards Paseo de la Reforma, I release my mind of its sharpened focus and allow it to drift, though my pace never falters. I think of Sarah with her bright blues eyes and the rings of gold around the pupil. I think of Joey, my son, and his eyes full of wonder as he watches me on the old television set in our living room. I think the sound of the bell and the fear in my enemy’s eyes when the match begins. The coppery taste of victory as I stand above them broken. The ache of victory’s cost in my bones.
As I turn back onto Varsovia and find myself before the Hostal Victoria, I allow myself rest. My breath is heavy, but I’m full functioning. I take the same cold shower I do every morning; hot water is a commodity I’ve learned to use sparingly even if not an expense. In the breathing sauna that is Mexico City, it works to my advantage and dulls the pain in my limbs. By the time I’m finished, I’m ready to begin my day at 8:00 am. I’ve made this city my playground; the squared circle, my battlefield. I’m ready to go in for the kill.
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Arena Mexico
Mexico City, Mexico
May 21st, 2015 12:00pm
The cameras flashed like fireflies as Howard Black made his way up the podium. The rows of folding chairs were jammed full, with some people standing towards the back that were unable to get seating at the time. Behind Howard hung a large curtain emblazoned with the WCF logo. It was a simple wooden podium sitting on a stage which sat a few feet above the ground. The crowd was mottled with spectators and reporters of every size and ethnicity, some armed with cameras, tape recorders, and a few with pens and pads. To Howard’s left stood a translator for the convenience of any wrestlers not fluent in Spanish.
Howard was dressed in the same simple street clothes as always: his usual black hooded sweatshirt, a white v-neck undershirt, a crucifix necklace, and a pair of worn blue jeans. The noise of the room was staggering, nearly drowning the thoughts in his own head. Still, Howard was not intimidated by the sea of bodies before him. He smiled. His shoulders were eased and relaxed. He placed his arms on the podium and leaned forward on his elbows, tilting his mouth up to the microphone. He cleared his voice, signaling his desire to speak, and the chatter in the room quieted immediately. He grinned at them, the sort of eased genuine smile he’d give an old friend. As he spoke, a second translator to his right repeated his words in Spanish to the crowd.
Howard Black: Good afternoon, and thank you all for taking this time out of your day to come here and speak with us on the WCF roster. I’d like to start by thanking the management and staff of the Arena Mexico for these past and upcoming Sundays which they’ve graciously booked for us. You’ve been very kind and very hospitable. We’ve been treated really well by their backstage, and uh, it’s been a real joy being here in Mexico. I’d also like to thank the WCF for setting this press conference up and any publications which have sent reporters here to speak with us. Couldn’t do this without you guys, and you’re a big help to help us connect to our audience. Give yourselves a hand.
There was a pause for the room to break into polite applause for a few seconds. As the clapping died down, Howard resumed.
Howard Black: For those of you who don’t know me, I’m WCF wrestler Howard Black. I started with the company around a month ago, the week after Explosion. I’m the current number one contender for the Television Championship and a member of the Sentinels with Occulo and Dune. As you probably know, the WCF has spent roughly a month here in Mexico City; after Asesinato de Mayo next Sunday, we will be moving on.
It’s been a really wonderful time being here in Mexico, taking in the culture and history of this city and country. In this arena, some incredible displays of athleticism have been shown. Mexico is, of course, known for its vibrant wrestling tradition, Lucha Libre, and it is an absolute honor for us who are based out of the United States to come down here and perform our craft before the same audiences who’ve been a part of wrestling for decades. As you know, many Lucha Libre wrestlers often come to the States to enter American federations, and the craft they’ve brought has enriched wrestling as a sport and an industry. Los Guerreros wrestling family were heroes of mine growing up, and without the Mexican Lucha Libre style, I would not be the wrestler I am today. I think WCF recognizes how indispensable that influence on the industry is by their decision to book these events every year.
This Sunday, I will be involved in a tornado tag match with my partner Occculo, representing the Sentinels. We will be facing off against Gemini Battle and Spencer Adams representing the Dark Riders Gang, Kaz Mazy and Bobby Cairo representing both the Poondock Saints and Imperium, and Marc Mayhem and Oblivion representing the Chrono Rippers. While it may be easy to call this a faction wars-style tag match, I’d like to make note that none of my fellow wrestlers from Pantheon are represented so this wouldn’t be a fair title. Can’t have a faction war without Pantheon, that’d be unfair to them. I’m sure they wish they had a piece of all of us.
As you may know, last week Occulo and I faced Oblivion and Marc Mayhem, we won the match, and I’m sure the Chrono Rippers are looking for payback. Should be a good match from them; both guys are hell of competitors. Naturally, you can’t overlook the Poondock Saints, our reigning tag champions. Kaz Mazy is also our United States Champion, so I’m sure Occulo, the former champ, is looking to get back in the ring with him. Bobby Cairo, of course, is the former World Champion; gonna be a damn good match and looking forward to squaring off with him. Gemini Battle is a guy I really respect and think he’s a hell of a worker, and Spencer Adams is a fresh face in this company. Really looking forward to this; best of luck to everyone involved.
WCF is in a pretty weird but wonderful time where the roster is starting to form this sort of weird multi-polar power system. I think the formation of Imperium really sparked this off: Pantheon was sort of this specter of domination that hung over the federation, but Imperium was formed by these guys who rubbed a lot of people wrong. You get an atmosphere like that, with these two titans clashing, and you’re gonna start seeing wrestlers not in the loop scramble to team up to not get washed away. I know Occulo has said that the Sentinels were formed as a way for him and Dune to have each other’s backs since Dune was becoming number one contender and Occulo was US Champ at the time; naturally those are high risk positions. I got picked up by them for the Trios Cup, and after week one, they just sort of felt I belonged and brought me in. It’s been a real honor to work with these guys who I consider brothers in arms. Dune’s obviously got a big match next Sunday, and so does Occulo. I’ll be cheering for both of them, and I’ll be supporting them in ways that don’t involve interfering in a match. Plus I know neither of them would want that.
With that, I’m going to open the floor to any questions. Thank you again for coming out. Thank you to Seth Lerch for the opportunity to be a part of this company, my agent David Rogers for sticking with me to now, and my wife and son back at home for handling my road schedule.
The crowd shot once more into a cacophony of noise, with hands whipping up, eager to be called on. Howard pointed out a young Hispanic man in a sharp cream-colored suit and blue tie near the back. A stagehand walked a mic out to the man, and as he spoke in Spanish, the translator to Howard’s left repeated his words back in English.
Translator: Mister Black, I’m Edgar Ramirez with Proyecto 40. Your tag partner, Occulo, will be having a match with Danny Anderson of the Dark Riders Gang, and you are the number one contender for the Television Title held by the leader of the Dark Riders Gang, Thomas Uriel Bates. Are the Sentinels feuding with the Dark Riders Gang?
Howard Black: Very good question. I don’t think so. Nothing official. From what I’ve seen, Danny Anderson has been distancing himself from the DRG and Bates. Couple nasty comments over Twitter directed at new DRG member Spencer Adams about Bates and the group. I don’t think the hostility between Danny and Occulo involves either faction: I doubt they endorse Danny or support him in this effort.
Translator: And do you have any comment about Snapz facing Bates on Sunday while you’re the number one contender?
Howard Black: No comment. Next question.
The microphone moved over to a young Caucasian man in a red Ralph Lauren polo shirt. He wore thin-rimmed square glasses and had a short crop of blond hair on his head. He spoke English, leaving the translator a brief respite from his job.
Reporter: Hi, Mr. Black, I’m Jim Carruthers of Bleacher Report. Last week you faced against Marc Mayhem and Oblivion. Now in his promo video last week, Marc Mayhem made mention of your son; do you have any comment on this?
Howard visibly tensed, but he kept the same relaxed smile even as his eyes narrowed. He could feel that quiet, hungry anger welling up in him, the same way it had after he saw the video following the match last Sunday.
Howard Black: Funny enough, I actually didn’t see said video until after Occulo and I had already won the match against Marc Mayhem and Oblivion. Had I seen it beforehand, the results would’ve been very different in that I would’ve snapped Mayhem’s arm like a twig. Part of this business involves talking crap and making pot shots at your opponent; I get it. I do it, too. Everyone does. Comments about my family? Absolutely crossing a line. Of course, while Marc tried to get in my head, we all saw it failed last week as we came out on top with myself scoring the pin fall over his partner, Oblivion, who’s a former World Champ.
Now Marc hit with the Cab Ride, as he said he would, but he was dead wrong in predicting that it would kill me. In fact, I got back up and splattered Oblivion’s head across the matt with the Seventh Seal a little after. Fact is while I may have been blasé in how I treated Marc leading up to our match, I walked the walk that I talked. Marc did not: he underestimated me, didn’t take me seriously, and we walked out that night the victors. If Marc or Oblivion want to contest these results, they can try that this Sunday. Occulo’s faced both of these guys a bunch of times, and now I’ve faced them before and know how to handle them. If they think they’ve got a better shot this time, they’re flat out wrong.
Chatter again. Another Spanish-speaking reporter: a young woman (perhaps in her late twenties) wearing a navy blazer over a cream colored blouse.
Translator: Mr. Black, I am Emma Avila with Gala TV. During the week, one of your opponents, Gemini Battle, has taken some particularly vicious shots at you. Despite your claim earlier that the Sentinels and DRG are not feuding, does this not make you see the interactions differently?
At this, Howard stared at the woman, his brow creasing and mouth pulling down into a frown.
Howard Black: I haven’t heard what Gemini Battle has said, but I’ve got some words for him if he wants to talk at me. Gemini wants to think he can play with the big boys since he wrestled Dune to a draw and beat Z-Mac. Here’s the thing, no one gives a shit about him still. Why? Because Gemini Battle is the epitome of boring. From literally reminding people “he’s evil” like some wannabe super villain to saying the most obvious, uninspired little insults that’ve been said over and over again, nothing about Gemini Battle is unique beyond his ring ability.
I stand by what I’ve said: that there’s no feud between the Sentinels and the DRG. However, Bates needs to get his house in order. Bates wants to posture himself as the big guy who stands up for people. He wants his Dark Riders Gang to be seen as a force of good. I’ve got no misapprehension that Bates has pure intentions, but he’s compromising on how to get the job done. Guys like Murdock and Gemini Battle don’t follow Bates’s code. Danny Anderson is pissed off and seems on the verge of quitting. Bates has a house full of psychos barking up a lot of trees he shouldn’t want to. The Sentinels are one of those trees.
More chatter. The Wolf-Headed Man stood in the back, wearing an all-white suit and blue button-up shirt. He held a hand high and eventually the microphone was brought to him. Howard stared at this figure, his heart starting to beat just a bit faster, but what he could not figure out was how the Wolf-Headed Man seemed to be eyed with no curiosity by anyone else. When the Wolf-Headed Man spoke, he had the same odd sound like two voices (one high, one low) speaking simultaneously, yet through these two voices it was as though Howard could hear a third, perfectly normal voice buried deep beneath the other two.
The Wolf-Headed Man: Mister Black, I’m Jacob Rookswood from ESPN 2. This week you’ll be squared off against the Poondock Saints, a team which beat your fellow Sentinel, Dune, and Isaiah Chavis last week. Do you believe that Occulo and yourself stand a better chance against them?
Howard smiled thinly at the Wolf-Headed Man, hoping to conceal the tremors in his nerves from the audience. He kept his tone and voice flat, though it remained laced with thinly veiled contempt for the speaker.
Howard Black: First of all, Dune and Isaiah Chavis don’t tag. It doesn’t matter if they’re both solid wrestlers, the Poondock Saints are a tag team. You can’t throw two guys together and hope to beat a solid tag team. Occulo and I? We’re a team. More of a team than Gemini Battle and Spencer Adams. That’s the first thing we have going for us when it comes to facing the Poondock Saints. Now, this will be an interesting match because I’m still not totally sure where everyone in that team has their head. The formation of Imperium has a mixed reception: Cario’s embraced it while Kaz seems hesitant. That’s a split not just in your faction but your team. Is Buddy Roman coming down with them? Does Kaz want him there? What do these guys think about Joey Flash being free to scheme after Beckman’s title? Doesn’t Cairo deserve his rematch?
These are all the questions that can rip up these mega-faction things. You enter one of these deals as a tag team, you’ve just brought discord into your own house. These were two sides that fought each other multiple times coming together, and you don’t think there’s past resentment? The littlest bits of resentment? You don’t think the Vapor Kings may just want the Tag Titles back? Y’all gotta be on the same page, especially when dancing with a devil like Buddy Roman. Course, I expect that from you guys no matter what. Here’s to hoping you won’t say the same tired things and put up the same tired matches. Be a real shame to see that from champions.
After the final question, Howard Black pushed himself off the podium and stepped down off the stage to the floor. He was briefly swarmed by reporters with flashing cameras before the next WCF star took the stage behind him. He took advantage of this distraction and slipped away through the crowd.
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Sitting alone in the Sentinels locker room, Howard Black thought.
The shape of the WCF is coming into focus. I think I can see it. Figure it out. Times like this are dog eat dog, and even if you’ve got a team at your back, you gotta take what you want. No hand outs. No hand overs. That starts tonight with this TV Title shot.
See, Gemini Battle was the final puzzle piece. I see it now, it is you behind this, Bates. Throwing up smoke screens. Sleight of hands. You want me off the trail. You want me thinking you’re a good guy. A noble guy. An honorable guy. But the façade cracked, brother. I’m seeing the paint chip off. I’m seeing you throwing as many of your flunkeys between me and you. Danny at Occulo? Gemini and Spencer? Snapz? You think I’m stupid, don’t you? So who’s getting the title shot if you when at Asesinato de Mayo, Bates? Gemini or Murdock? No. I can already see you taking it for yourself. ‘I lead the DRG. I’m the face of this team. I should get this shot.’ Then your bunch will start cracking just like Imperium.
I just pity Spencer Adams. See, people can think the DRG and Sentinels are similar, but we’re nothing alike. Spencer and I are nothing alike. When I go out into that ring tonight, I’m going to hold my own. I’m going to be Occulo’s partner. His equal. I’m not little brother. I’m not his student. I’m his partner. But Spencer? Not even your own teammates see you as an equal. You’re being coddled. And now you’re being fed to the lions. The Antidote Spencer Adams versus Hollywood Homicide Black and Commander Cold. Versus the Son of Samedi and the Godfather of Professional Wrestling. Versus the Lord of Insanity and meanest motherfucker in the business. And all you got in your corner is Pagliacio. I’d be motherfucking terrified in your position. You’re a good guy, Spencer. Get out of there.
He paused his thoughts for a moment to reach down and pick up the athletic tape, wrapping it carefully around each knuckle.
Oblivion, Marc, I’ve been you before. Last week in fact. Except this time I am the one out for revenge. I am out for blood. See, I didn’t catch your little comments about my son, Marc. Now I have. Now I know I owe you a beat down. And this time it’s gonna end with Freddy Woah screaming “THAT’S IT! THE SEVENTH SEAL!” and Gravedigger responding with “I THINK HE’S DEAD!”
He picked up his gym bag and headed for the locker room door. He was ready, and the match would be soon. He had a cigarette to smoke.
Mexico City, Mexico
May 19th, 2015 11:00 am
Howard Black: This is bullshit, Dave, and you know it.
Howard Black sat at the simple, worn old bed with the tattered sheets of his hostel room. His hand gripped his phone white-knuckle angry and his face was creased with lines of stress and frustration. His lips were pulled down into a frown, and he drummed his fingers impatiently on his knee. When he was riled, it was always difficult for Howard to stay still. If not his fingers, he’d be tapping his foot, perhaps, or clicking his tongue. The voice of David Rogers, the long-suffering patient as the Buddha manager, was filled with sympathy and perhaps his own hint of frustration.
David Rogers: Look, Howie, I know, okay? You don’t have to tell me; I know. I’m your manager for Christ’s sake. But you’re overblowing this in your head. I doubt it’s some conspiracy, Seth probably just forgot.
Howard’s voice raised in anger and frustration. A bark like a rabid dog escaped his mouth now, like a bottle blowing its top.
Howard Black: No, that’s bullshit! He runs the fucking company and that doesn’t even make sense!
The rise in Howard’s voice prompted a shift in David’s tone: stern and blunt. It was the sort of move a man who knew Howard well had figured out as the best way to deal with him. Assert dominance. Stand your ground.
David Rogers: HOWARD! You forget that this is the same Seth Lerch who didn’t even recognize his own Tag Team Champion Kaz Mazy when confronted by him. A champion. The guy’s either malicious or an idiot, but I hedge my bets to the latter.
A pause followed the comment as Howard stopped drumming his fingers. The nervous tension in his shoulders eased visible but did not completely disperse. His voice dropped to a neutral tone, tinged with an apologetic edge.
Howard Black: You’re right. Probably. I just don’t know. Like AdM is coming up, and I got nothing. Occulo’s doing something, Dune’s doing something, and old Howie Black still ain’t penciled in. I’ve been sitting on this, Dave. Waiting. I’m hungry. I earned this shot. This should be mine.
David matched the downshift in tone, his voice losing the firmness and taking a more concillatory edge.
David Rogers: You’re right. It should be yours. But you’re sounding more thirsty than hungry, Howie. Never get thirsty.
Howard Black: Like, they’re giving this to Snapz. Snapz for God’s sake. This is the same chump who fucked up the US title match and cost Occulo the belt against Kaz. And Occulo still hasn’t gotten a rematch. And now you’re telling me Mikey eXtreme is more deserving than I am? I’m starting to get why Gemini Battle started making threats; this is absurd.
Howard paused for a moment, turning the situation back in forth in his head like a detective over a crime scene.
Howard Black: You think… Bates has something to do with it?
David Rogers: Come again?
Howard Black: I mean, Bates and his DRG got all cozy with Seth. Danny’s gunning for Occulo. Think Bates was behind Snapz getting the shot over me? Like he asks me to do that PSA, get me friendly. Then hope I’ll let it go or something.
David Rogers: You’re going to stop right there. Howard, listen to me: if Seth isn’t malicious, Bates sure as shit isn’t. You have no reason to suspect foul play. Zero.
Howard Black: But David, you don’t think it seems too perfect? Too convenient?
David Rogers: Fuck no, I don’t. And if there was any sense of scheming, it’s that Seth doesn’t want someone breaking Bates’s face right before the PPV. Think about it, Howard: you’re running a fed, and one of your champions is involved in a big time tournament at the upcoming pay-per-view which has lasted three weeks. One guy’s already got a broken arm; would you put the TV Champ in a match against some scrapper who fights like a badger on PCP?
Howard Black: I’d do what’s fair, Dave! I earned this shot!
David Rogers: And you’ll get it! Howie, I’m your agent; I’m not going to let them drop the ball on this. But try to think of it this way: would you rather have a one-off, no stakes fight against Bates on Slam or stay hungry until a big stage and knock him out?
Howard went quiet. David, as per usual, had hit right on the money with him, and in moments like this he wondered why he’d chosen a college friend to be his manager. Anyone who knew him that well.
David Rogers: I know you, Howie. You want the light and cameras. You’re a generally minimal guy, but you like to feel important. You’re a country boy who went to the big city for the lights. Forget this. You got a warm-up match this week, and you’ll get a warm-up during AdM. You go kick in Seth Lerch’s door and demand a big shot at Bates. Not some episode of Slam: you want a Pay-Per-View. You want a headliner. You go knock around the Chrono Rippers, Poondock Saints, and the DRG. You wanna show you’re deserving? Go kick in the head of the US and Tag Champ, beat one of the guys in the Trios Cup finals, and pin a former World Champ again.
Howard Black: Yeah. Warm-up. You’re right, David. I know you are.
David Rogers: Goddamn right I am. And you’re gonna be fine, kid. Now look, I booked you an interview for later this week. Local papers, couple American websites. Maybe Bleacher Report. There’s big hype with AdM around the corner. You’re noticed, kid. They want your words.
Howard Black: What day is that?
David Rogers: Thursday. It’s at the arena. Be there noon, sharp. In fact, be there early. Get ready. Comb your hair, shave your neckbeard. Practice that smile a bit.
Howard Black: Okay. Will do.
David Rogers: And don’t forget, Howie, you got this on lock. You and Occulo got a lot of momentum back last week. You both need this win, and you got it in you. Don’t second guess.
Howard Black: Naw, David. Not second guessing.
David Rogers: That’s what I like to hear. I’ll see you next week.
Howard Black: Later.
A click through the speaker signaled the end of the call. Howard set the phone down on the bed next to him, staring at the half-empty bottle of rotgut tequila sitting on the floor by the window.
David’s probably got a point. Nothing malicious. Just how booking works. Maybe I should be flattered. Best for last? Something like that? But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels cheap. I feel robbed. I’ve been kinda bobbing around now since the Trios Cup ended. I got this trio. I’m a Sentinel. And I’m thankful for it. I love rubbing elbows with Occulo weekly. I love cheering on Dune as climbs the mountain. And soon we’re gonna be on top: World Champ Dune, US Champ Occulo, and TV Champ Howie Black. But maybe that’s why I’m so pissed. It feels like we’re getting held back. Lerch? Lerch has his guys hand-picked: Tommy Bates, Deuce, Gemini, Fly, Orbit, and Corey. New guys and the DRG. Shit, motherfucking Pantheon’s getting thrown under the bus.
Not saying guys ain’t earned it. They have. Maybe. Those six. Then you got Mikey eXtreme for the US Championship match, and what’s this guy done besides beat up jobbers, ride the DRG coattails, and beat Logan in a match he got dragged kicking and screaming into? Mikey eXtreme is more deserving than me? Than Occulo? You’re making Occulo earn a rematch for a title he lost on no fault of his own? Because Kaz pinned that fucking loser Snapz who’s now got my TV Title shot?! Kyle Kemp’s been here a couple weeks and he gets a shot at the Internet Championship, Vulgar’s here a few weeks and has a shot at the People’s Championship, and I’m in another fucking tornado tag match. Fuck, Zione Redington got more title shots than I have, and that scrub’s turned tail in shame.
That’s fucked up. I’ve been grinding. I’ve gone toe-to-toe with mean sumbitches for weeks. I pinned a former World Champ, and I got up after a Cab Ride. I got tapped to sit at the big boy table, and I’m the last of my class of rookies standing. Fucking chicken feed. Table scraps. Solidarity for that weird fucker Gemini Battle; they gonna make me take out Z-Mac to prove I got it, too? It’s fucked. Seth’s behind this. Holding me back.
Then reality came crashing down on Howard. As he processed the thoughts that just went through his head, his eyes widened and he let out a shocked, embarrassed breath.
You sound like Joey Flash. Fuck, you sound like Grime. Seth Lerch is out to get you? Holy shit, Howard. No. You’re out of your fucking mind. Your pride’s hurt and you start tossing blame. Don’t be ridiculous. Tommy Bates ain’t got nothing to do with this. Dave’s probably right about holding off. Maybe. It just seems too perfect. Too convenient.
He stood up from the bed and walked towards the door of his room. He ignored the Wolf-Headed Man standing silently in the corner. The growling in his stomach was demanding food, and the paycheck he’d gotten for his last match enabled him to eat something besides cheap chorizo tacos. Perhaps today he’d have fajitas.
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I wake up every morning at 7:00 am and hit the streets. No shower. No breakfast. That can wait. The city’s roused only slightly: barely stirring from its slumber and only vibrating with the harbinger of the morning commute, when these streets and avenues will be filled to the veins with cars and busses. I don’t need that; God gave me two legs to carry me where I need for now. And carry they do.
The air in Mexico is humid even at the break of dawn. It’s that time when the dew may still be kissing the grass, and the noise may be just below a murmur. That’s when I hunt. When my soles slap the pavement in a brisk jog as I glide down the Paseo de la Reforma from the Hostal Victoria towards Bosque de Chapultepec. One wolf on the prowl tearing through this streets. El Nino ain’t been kind lately; on a few mornings, it’s been pouring cats and dogs. That’s never stopped me. Today, I’m lucky, and it’s only the blanketing thickness of sticky humidity.
After a mile, I swerve a left into the park and lose myself amongst the trees and grass. It’s empty right now, save maybe a few bums and other like-minded runners, taking advantage of the serenity to keep a proper pace. I pass them all. I don’t slow, even as the lung begin to burn with the dirty city air and smell of cypress trees.
Further on is Lago de Chapultepec. I lap it twice, letting the sweat course out of me as the surge flows through me. My feet are aching, but there’s no time to let that hinder me. It’s been half an hour, and the city comes more to life with each passing moment. The fog from last night’s binge has completely left my head. I’m alive again. Just I and these park woods; an animal and the wild.
As I make my way back through the trees towards Paseo de la Reforma, I release my mind of its sharpened focus and allow it to drift, though my pace never falters. I think of Sarah with her bright blues eyes and the rings of gold around the pupil. I think of Joey, my son, and his eyes full of wonder as he watches me on the old television set in our living room. I think the sound of the bell and the fear in my enemy’s eyes when the match begins. The coppery taste of victory as I stand above them broken. The ache of victory’s cost in my bones.
As I turn back onto Varsovia and find myself before the Hostal Victoria, I allow myself rest. My breath is heavy, but I’m full functioning. I take the same cold shower I do every morning; hot water is a commodity I’ve learned to use sparingly even if not an expense. In the breathing sauna that is Mexico City, it works to my advantage and dulls the pain in my limbs. By the time I’m finished, I’m ready to begin my day at 8:00 am. I’ve made this city my playground; the squared circle, my battlefield. I’m ready to go in for the kill.
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Arena Mexico
Mexico City, Mexico
May 21st, 2015 12:00pm
The cameras flashed like fireflies as Howard Black made his way up the podium. The rows of folding chairs were jammed full, with some people standing towards the back that were unable to get seating at the time. Behind Howard hung a large curtain emblazoned with the WCF logo. It was a simple wooden podium sitting on a stage which sat a few feet above the ground. The crowd was mottled with spectators and reporters of every size and ethnicity, some armed with cameras, tape recorders, and a few with pens and pads. To Howard’s left stood a translator for the convenience of any wrestlers not fluent in Spanish.
Howard was dressed in the same simple street clothes as always: his usual black hooded sweatshirt, a white v-neck undershirt, a crucifix necklace, and a pair of worn blue jeans. The noise of the room was staggering, nearly drowning the thoughts in his own head. Still, Howard was not intimidated by the sea of bodies before him. He smiled. His shoulders were eased and relaxed. He placed his arms on the podium and leaned forward on his elbows, tilting his mouth up to the microphone. He cleared his voice, signaling his desire to speak, and the chatter in the room quieted immediately. He grinned at them, the sort of eased genuine smile he’d give an old friend. As he spoke, a second translator to his right repeated his words in Spanish to the crowd.
Howard Black: Good afternoon, and thank you all for taking this time out of your day to come here and speak with us on the WCF roster. I’d like to start by thanking the management and staff of the Arena Mexico for these past and upcoming Sundays which they’ve graciously booked for us. You’ve been very kind and very hospitable. We’ve been treated really well by their backstage, and uh, it’s been a real joy being here in Mexico. I’d also like to thank the WCF for setting this press conference up and any publications which have sent reporters here to speak with us. Couldn’t do this without you guys, and you’re a big help to help us connect to our audience. Give yourselves a hand.
There was a pause for the room to break into polite applause for a few seconds. As the clapping died down, Howard resumed.
Howard Black: For those of you who don’t know me, I’m WCF wrestler Howard Black. I started with the company around a month ago, the week after Explosion. I’m the current number one contender for the Television Championship and a member of the Sentinels with Occulo and Dune. As you probably know, the WCF has spent roughly a month here in Mexico City; after Asesinato de Mayo next Sunday, we will be moving on.
It’s been a really wonderful time being here in Mexico, taking in the culture and history of this city and country. In this arena, some incredible displays of athleticism have been shown. Mexico is, of course, known for its vibrant wrestling tradition, Lucha Libre, and it is an absolute honor for us who are based out of the United States to come down here and perform our craft before the same audiences who’ve been a part of wrestling for decades. As you know, many Lucha Libre wrestlers often come to the States to enter American federations, and the craft they’ve brought has enriched wrestling as a sport and an industry. Los Guerreros wrestling family were heroes of mine growing up, and without the Mexican Lucha Libre style, I would not be the wrestler I am today. I think WCF recognizes how indispensable that influence on the industry is by their decision to book these events every year.
This Sunday, I will be involved in a tornado tag match with my partner Occculo, representing the Sentinels. We will be facing off against Gemini Battle and Spencer Adams representing the Dark Riders Gang, Kaz Mazy and Bobby Cairo representing both the Poondock Saints and Imperium, and Marc Mayhem and Oblivion representing the Chrono Rippers. While it may be easy to call this a faction wars-style tag match, I’d like to make note that none of my fellow wrestlers from Pantheon are represented so this wouldn’t be a fair title. Can’t have a faction war without Pantheon, that’d be unfair to them. I’m sure they wish they had a piece of all of us.
As you may know, last week Occulo and I faced Oblivion and Marc Mayhem, we won the match, and I’m sure the Chrono Rippers are looking for payback. Should be a good match from them; both guys are hell of competitors. Naturally, you can’t overlook the Poondock Saints, our reigning tag champions. Kaz Mazy is also our United States Champion, so I’m sure Occulo, the former champ, is looking to get back in the ring with him. Bobby Cairo, of course, is the former World Champion; gonna be a damn good match and looking forward to squaring off with him. Gemini Battle is a guy I really respect and think he’s a hell of a worker, and Spencer Adams is a fresh face in this company. Really looking forward to this; best of luck to everyone involved.
WCF is in a pretty weird but wonderful time where the roster is starting to form this sort of weird multi-polar power system. I think the formation of Imperium really sparked this off: Pantheon was sort of this specter of domination that hung over the federation, but Imperium was formed by these guys who rubbed a lot of people wrong. You get an atmosphere like that, with these two titans clashing, and you’re gonna start seeing wrestlers not in the loop scramble to team up to not get washed away. I know Occulo has said that the Sentinels were formed as a way for him and Dune to have each other’s backs since Dune was becoming number one contender and Occulo was US Champ at the time; naturally those are high risk positions. I got picked up by them for the Trios Cup, and after week one, they just sort of felt I belonged and brought me in. It’s been a real honor to work with these guys who I consider brothers in arms. Dune’s obviously got a big match next Sunday, and so does Occulo. I’ll be cheering for both of them, and I’ll be supporting them in ways that don’t involve interfering in a match. Plus I know neither of them would want that.
With that, I’m going to open the floor to any questions. Thank you again for coming out. Thank you to Seth Lerch for the opportunity to be a part of this company, my agent David Rogers for sticking with me to now, and my wife and son back at home for handling my road schedule.
The crowd shot once more into a cacophony of noise, with hands whipping up, eager to be called on. Howard pointed out a young Hispanic man in a sharp cream-colored suit and blue tie near the back. A stagehand walked a mic out to the man, and as he spoke in Spanish, the translator to Howard’s left repeated his words back in English.
Translator: Mister Black, I’m Edgar Ramirez with Proyecto 40. Your tag partner, Occulo, will be having a match with Danny Anderson of the Dark Riders Gang, and you are the number one contender for the Television Title held by the leader of the Dark Riders Gang, Thomas Uriel Bates. Are the Sentinels feuding with the Dark Riders Gang?
Howard Black: Very good question. I don’t think so. Nothing official. From what I’ve seen, Danny Anderson has been distancing himself from the DRG and Bates. Couple nasty comments over Twitter directed at new DRG member Spencer Adams about Bates and the group. I don’t think the hostility between Danny and Occulo involves either faction: I doubt they endorse Danny or support him in this effort.
Translator: And do you have any comment about Snapz facing Bates on Sunday while you’re the number one contender?
Howard Black: No comment. Next question.
The microphone moved over to a young Caucasian man in a red Ralph Lauren polo shirt. He wore thin-rimmed square glasses and had a short crop of blond hair on his head. He spoke English, leaving the translator a brief respite from his job.
Reporter: Hi, Mr. Black, I’m Jim Carruthers of Bleacher Report. Last week you faced against Marc Mayhem and Oblivion. Now in his promo video last week, Marc Mayhem made mention of your son; do you have any comment on this?
Howard visibly tensed, but he kept the same relaxed smile even as his eyes narrowed. He could feel that quiet, hungry anger welling up in him, the same way it had after he saw the video following the match last Sunday.
Howard Black: Funny enough, I actually didn’t see said video until after Occulo and I had already won the match against Marc Mayhem and Oblivion. Had I seen it beforehand, the results would’ve been very different in that I would’ve snapped Mayhem’s arm like a twig. Part of this business involves talking crap and making pot shots at your opponent; I get it. I do it, too. Everyone does. Comments about my family? Absolutely crossing a line. Of course, while Marc tried to get in my head, we all saw it failed last week as we came out on top with myself scoring the pin fall over his partner, Oblivion, who’s a former World Champ.
Now Marc hit with the Cab Ride, as he said he would, but he was dead wrong in predicting that it would kill me. In fact, I got back up and splattered Oblivion’s head across the matt with the Seventh Seal a little after. Fact is while I may have been blasé in how I treated Marc leading up to our match, I walked the walk that I talked. Marc did not: he underestimated me, didn’t take me seriously, and we walked out that night the victors. If Marc or Oblivion want to contest these results, they can try that this Sunday. Occulo’s faced both of these guys a bunch of times, and now I’ve faced them before and know how to handle them. If they think they’ve got a better shot this time, they’re flat out wrong.
Chatter again. Another Spanish-speaking reporter: a young woman (perhaps in her late twenties) wearing a navy blazer over a cream colored blouse.
Translator: Mr. Black, I am Emma Avila with Gala TV. During the week, one of your opponents, Gemini Battle, has taken some particularly vicious shots at you. Despite your claim earlier that the Sentinels and DRG are not feuding, does this not make you see the interactions differently?
At this, Howard stared at the woman, his brow creasing and mouth pulling down into a frown.
Howard Black: I haven’t heard what Gemini Battle has said, but I’ve got some words for him if he wants to talk at me. Gemini wants to think he can play with the big boys since he wrestled Dune to a draw and beat Z-Mac. Here’s the thing, no one gives a shit about him still. Why? Because Gemini Battle is the epitome of boring. From literally reminding people “he’s evil” like some wannabe super villain to saying the most obvious, uninspired little insults that’ve been said over and over again, nothing about Gemini Battle is unique beyond his ring ability.
I stand by what I’ve said: that there’s no feud between the Sentinels and the DRG. However, Bates needs to get his house in order. Bates wants to posture himself as the big guy who stands up for people. He wants his Dark Riders Gang to be seen as a force of good. I’ve got no misapprehension that Bates has pure intentions, but he’s compromising on how to get the job done. Guys like Murdock and Gemini Battle don’t follow Bates’s code. Danny Anderson is pissed off and seems on the verge of quitting. Bates has a house full of psychos barking up a lot of trees he shouldn’t want to. The Sentinels are one of those trees.
More chatter. The Wolf-Headed Man stood in the back, wearing an all-white suit and blue button-up shirt. He held a hand high and eventually the microphone was brought to him. Howard stared at this figure, his heart starting to beat just a bit faster, but what he could not figure out was how the Wolf-Headed Man seemed to be eyed with no curiosity by anyone else. When the Wolf-Headed Man spoke, he had the same odd sound like two voices (one high, one low) speaking simultaneously, yet through these two voices it was as though Howard could hear a third, perfectly normal voice buried deep beneath the other two.
The Wolf-Headed Man: Mister Black, I’m Jacob Rookswood from ESPN 2. This week you’ll be squared off against the Poondock Saints, a team which beat your fellow Sentinel, Dune, and Isaiah Chavis last week. Do you believe that Occulo and yourself stand a better chance against them?
Howard smiled thinly at the Wolf-Headed Man, hoping to conceal the tremors in his nerves from the audience. He kept his tone and voice flat, though it remained laced with thinly veiled contempt for the speaker.
Howard Black: First of all, Dune and Isaiah Chavis don’t tag. It doesn’t matter if they’re both solid wrestlers, the Poondock Saints are a tag team. You can’t throw two guys together and hope to beat a solid tag team. Occulo and I? We’re a team. More of a team than Gemini Battle and Spencer Adams. That’s the first thing we have going for us when it comes to facing the Poondock Saints. Now, this will be an interesting match because I’m still not totally sure where everyone in that team has their head. The formation of Imperium has a mixed reception: Cario’s embraced it while Kaz seems hesitant. That’s a split not just in your faction but your team. Is Buddy Roman coming down with them? Does Kaz want him there? What do these guys think about Joey Flash being free to scheme after Beckman’s title? Doesn’t Cairo deserve his rematch?
These are all the questions that can rip up these mega-faction things. You enter one of these deals as a tag team, you’ve just brought discord into your own house. These were two sides that fought each other multiple times coming together, and you don’t think there’s past resentment? The littlest bits of resentment? You don’t think the Vapor Kings may just want the Tag Titles back? Y’all gotta be on the same page, especially when dancing with a devil like Buddy Roman. Course, I expect that from you guys no matter what. Here’s to hoping you won’t say the same tired things and put up the same tired matches. Be a real shame to see that from champions.
After the final question, Howard Black pushed himself off the podium and stepped down off the stage to the floor. He was briefly swarmed by reporters with flashing cameras before the next WCF star took the stage behind him. He took advantage of this distraction and slipped away through the crowd.
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Sitting alone in the Sentinels locker room, Howard Black thought.
The shape of the WCF is coming into focus. I think I can see it. Figure it out. Times like this are dog eat dog, and even if you’ve got a team at your back, you gotta take what you want. No hand outs. No hand overs. That starts tonight with this TV Title shot.
See, Gemini Battle was the final puzzle piece. I see it now, it is you behind this, Bates. Throwing up smoke screens. Sleight of hands. You want me off the trail. You want me thinking you’re a good guy. A noble guy. An honorable guy. But the façade cracked, brother. I’m seeing the paint chip off. I’m seeing you throwing as many of your flunkeys between me and you. Danny at Occulo? Gemini and Spencer? Snapz? You think I’m stupid, don’t you? So who’s getting the title shot if you when at Asesinato de Mayo, Bates? Gemini or Murdock? No. I can already see you taking it for yourself. ‘I lead the DRG. I’m the face of this team. I should get this shot.’ Then your bunch will start cracking just like Imperium.
I just pity Spencer Adams. See, people can think the DRG and Sentinels are similar, but we’re nothing alike. Spencer and I are nothing alike. When I go out into that ring tonight, I’m going to hold my own. I’m going to be Occulo’s partner. His equal. I’m not little brother. I’m not his student. I’m his partner. But Spencer? Not even your own teammates see you as an equal. You’re being coddled. And now you’re being fed to the lions. The Antidote Spencer Adams versus Hollywood Homicide Black and Commander Cold. Versus the Son of Samedi and the Godfather of Professional Wrestling. Versus the Lord of Insanity and meanest motherfucker in the business. And all you got in your corner is Pagliacio. I’d be motherfucking terrified in your position. You’re a good guy, Spencer. Get out of there.
He paused his thoughts for a moment to reach down and pick up the athletic tape, wrapping it carefully around each knuckle.
Oblivion, Marc, I’ve been you before. Last week in fact. Except this time I am the one out for revenge. I am out for blood. See, I didn’t catch your little comments about my son, Marc. Now I have. Now I know I owe you a beat down. And this time it’s gonna end with Freddy Woah screaming “THAT’S IT! THE SEVENTH SEAL!” and Gravedigger responding with “I THINK HE’S DEAD!”
He picked up his gym bag and headed for the locker room door. He was ready, and the match would be soon. He had a cigarette to smoke.