Post by Dean Wolf on Dec 20, 2015 21:52:31 GMT -5
War XIV- Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
“Zach Davis: Wolf has just taken Jenson down with his Easy Prey! How is Wolf still going at this point, Freddy!? He measures him up..
Freddy Whoa: THE KILL! Going for his fourth elimination!
Zach Davis: HE HITS IT! Into the pin-
Freddy Whoa: NO!, Occulo drops Wolf with a Reverse DDT. Wolf didn't see him coming. On the cold, hard cement... Wolf is laying face down, here comes Occulo..
Zach Davis: DAMN, SUBLIMINAL MESSAGE ON THE OUTSIDE!, Occulo's knee right to Wolf's head. Occulo goes for the pin.
Freddy Whoa: One... Two....
Zach Davis: Three. Wolf has finally been eliminated. What effort by this man here tonight!”
Wolf takes a minute to roll onto his stomach and get on his hands and knees. He looks behind him and glares at Occulo. He speaks under his breath.
Wolf: Motherfucker.
He gets up and puts his hand on the ring apron to get his balance. He has just fought for two hours, seven minutes, and eleven seconds in a grueling, unique elimination match. The chances of winning a match like this were slim, but god damn it, he was determined to make it to the end. He was on a roll and just like that, one knee to the head ended it. He’s angry that Occulo got him when he wasn’t looking, but he’s also sad that it’s over. He may even be sadder about that than not winning the world title. He loves to fight. He loves to hurt people. And now it’s over.
He takes his hand off of the apron when he thinks he’s ready to walk without leaning on something. He walks slowly and laboriously around the ring and down the aisle. He looks down at the floor, not because he’s ashamed of himself, but because he’s too tired to keep his head up. At this point, he just wants to get to the locker room, shower, and go back to his hotel room so he can rest.
However, a funny thing happens as he walks towards the curtain. Large pockets of the crowd are howling. He doesn’t even bother looking up.
Are these fucking people kidding me? They’re mocking me after all that?
He keeps ignoring the howls when he passes a few more fans that begin yelling to him.
Fans: Good job, Wolf! Nice job! That was awesome, dude!
Fans begin clapping for him. Some are close enough where they can slap him on the back or the shoulder as a sign that he gave them a good show. The appreciation spreads and even more fans begin howling.
Fans: Awoooooooooo!
You idiot; they’re not mocking you. They’re cheering for you! They’re showing you appreciation! They think you’re awesome! They’re showing you respect!
Mission accomplished.
Before he goes through the curtain, he looks back at the crowd.
And he smiles.
As he comes through the curtain, he’s met by Hank Brown and a cameraman.
Hank Brown: We’re here for a WCF Network exclusive with Wolf, who has just walked back through the curtain after entering at number one and lasting an incredible…
Hank looks at his paper to get the time right.
Hank Brown:…two hours, seven minutes, and eleven seconds.
Damn.
Hank Brown: Wolf, in the weeks leading up to War, you talked about not getting enough respect here in the WCF. After tonight’s performance, do you think you’ve earned people’s respect?
Wolf: I’ll tell you what, Hank, if people don’t respect me after that then they’re dumber than dog shit.
He looks right at the camera.
Wolf: I went in there at number one and I eliminated three men like that.
He snaps his fingers at the word “that.”
Wolf: After that, I hung in there with some of the best guys this promotion has to offer. The fans out in the seats, they respect me. The men I stood toe to toe with in and out of that ring tonight, I earned their respect. If there’s anyone else that thinks that I don’t deserve their respect, then I guess I’m just going to have to beat some respect into them.
Hank Brown: You’ve only been out of the match a few minutes and there’s already talk that you should receive a title shot of some kind here in the WCF. Your reaction?
Wolf: Hey, whatever title they want me to win, I’ll win it. I sought the wolf and I found him. When I seek gold, I’ll find that, too.
Hank Brown: Wolf, thank you. Congratulations on your big night.
Wolf walks towards the locker room to shower and get dressed.
Later that night, he opens the door to his hotel room at the Hilton Garden Inn. He turns the light on, walks towards the bed, throws his bag to the ground, and collapses on it. He’s too tired to even undress and turn out the lights. He’s about ready to close his eyes, but then something pops into his head.
Should I? No, he’s not going to care.
He sighs.
Maybe he will. Maybe tonight is my night. I already put myself on the map with War tonight. Maybe I can go 2 for 2.
He sits up slowly on the edge of the bed, picks up the phone, and dials a number. The phone rings three times.
One more ring and it goes to the answering machine.
The phone rings one more time.
I’m not leaving a message.
He goes to hang the phone up before the answering machine picks up, but before he can put place the receiver down, he hears a voice. He quickly brings it back up to his ear.
Wolf: Hello?
Phillip Dexter: Who the hell is this?
Wolf’s father sounds as if he’s been woken up by the phone.
Wolf: Dad, it’s me, Wol- I mean, Daniel. It’s Daniel, Dad.
Calm the fuck down. Why are you so nervous?
Phillip Dexter: Daniel? What the hell are you doing calling me this late at night? It’s past one o’clock in the morning.
Wolf: Yeah, I know, but I had to call you. Plus, you’re retired now.
Phillip Dexter: Well, your mother’s not!
Idiot.
Wolf: Oh, yeah. Well, tell her I’m sorry.
Phillip Dexter: Are you alright? Is there an emergency?
Wolf: I’m fine, Dad. I just wanted to call and see if you watched War tonight.
Phillip Dexter: War? What the hell is War?
Wolf: The pay-per-view that I was wrestling on tonight. I told you about it a few weeks ago.
Phillip Dexter: Why the hell would I watch that?
God, this was a bad idea.
Wolf: It was a big night for me, Pops. The match I was in was supposed to be for a shot at the World Title, but it ended up….
Phillip Dexter: Daniel, I told you this when you first got into wrestling, I told you when you told me you got your WCF contract, I’ll tell you again now, and I’ll tell you again if you ask me about it in the future. I never wanted you to be a wrestler, I don’t agree with your decision to make wrestling a career, and I will never watch you wrestle, especially if I have to pay for it!
Wolf closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose.
Just keep your cool.
Wolf: Dad, the match ended up being for the World Title. I was fighting for the World Title! I eliminated three guys and was in the match for over two hours.
Phillip Dexter: And did you?
Wolf: Did I what?
Phillip Dexter: Did you win the World Title?
Wolf takes a pause before answering.
I should have known he was going to ask me that. Fuck.
Wolf: No.
Phillip Dexter: Then I don’t see what the big deal is.
Wolf: The big deal is that I proved myself worthy of being in the biggest wrestling promotion in the entire country! This was my dream, Dad, and I’m finally starting to realize it!
Phillip Dexter: First of all, don’t yell at me! Secondly, my dream was for you to get a college degree, but you killed that when you dropped out of college with ONE SEMESTER LEFT to go to wrestling school! Now you’re in a profession where one accident can mean the end of your career, and what do you have to fall back on? Nothing! You’ll end up doing a job like me where people look down on you because they think that the only skill you have is emptying out their fucking garbage!
Wolf can hear his mother, Marie, trying to get Phillip to calm down.
Phillip Dexter: Shut up, Marie!
Wolf: Well, you know what? People do look up to me! You should have heard the crowd tonight! They were chanting my name! MY NAME!
Phillip Dexter: Really, they were chanting “Daniel”, because the last time I checked, you weren’t going by that name anymore! You’re going by some made up name that’s supposed to make you look like some kind of tough guy! Yeah, real tough going by a fake name!
Wolf: You know what?! I don’t know why I bothered!
Phillip Dexter: I don’t know why you bothered either! If you think that I will ever, EVER, approve of you being a wrestler, then you can keep thinking because it will NEVER happen.
Wolf: Who said I needed your approv---
The phone hangs up.
Wolf stares at the receiver, breathing angrily and heavy.
Wolf: MOTHERFUCKER!!!
He snatches up the phone and throws it at the TV. The TV ends up in the wall while the glass shatters and scatters all over the carpet. Wolf sits back on his bed covering his face with his hand. No thoughts race through his head. It’s too full of rage to think of anything, not a face, not a word, nothing; just the red static of rage.
He suddenly gets up off the bed and walks out of the room. He doesn’t even bother trying to clean up the mess that he’s made.
Fuck the elevator. It takes too long.
He urgently wants to get rid of the moment he has just experienced.
There’s a bar on the lobby floor of the Hilton Garden Inn. Typically, Wolf wouldn’t have booked a room at a place with a bar, let alone a hotel. Traveling from city to city is costly, but he had a feeling tonight was his night, and he wanted to take care of himself. Now, having a bar inside his hotel wasn’t a luxury anymore. It was a necessity. It was necessary for him to forget.
Wolf walks up to the bar. He doesn’t even have a seat or wait for the bartender to ask him what he’d like to drink. In fact, the bartender’s on the other side of the bar.
Wolf: Beer!
Bartender: Um…what kind?
Wolf: I don’t give a fuck, just give me a beer!
The bartender is startled by Wolf’s belligerent tone and rushes to the tap to pour him a Bud. Wolf almost doesn’t even wait for the bartender to place the beer in front of him when he grabs it and takes a huge sip. He slams it down and looks at what’s left. About three-fourths of the glass is empty. He goes to grab it again but burps. It’s the kind of burp that makes Wolf take a pause. He puts his hand on his stomach. He feels a sensation rising up from his stomach and through his esophagus.
The sensation suddenly makes itself known as the vomit pouring out of his mouth, into his beer and all over the bar.
Wolf feels lightheaded, woozy, and feels himself falling headfirst into the bar.
However, when his head lands, he doesn’t feel the hard, marble surface of the bar.
It feels softer.
Like a pillow.
He opens his eyes and realizes he’s on a bed.
He still smells vomit.
His left eye can see over the edge of the bed. He’s looking down on a pot containing water and the waste that just arrived from his stomach.
A woman, black haired with tinges of gray, sits at the bedside. She reaches over and dabs his head with a damp washcloth.
He stares at her with a mix of recognition and confusion.
His eyelids go heavy.
And they shut.
