Post by Stuart Slane on Feb 21, 2016 18:17:31 GMT -5
Color Scheming
Stuart Slane’s current time in the Wrestling Championship Federation was nearing two months; a notable achievement for him. The legend (Wait for it!)-arily mercurial performer had not lasted long during his previous attempts to rejoin the roster; in fact the aggregate tenures of Slane’s last several sojourns not equal his current one. They were certainly less successful. This time around saw him win the WCF Television Title in just his second match back; defeating one of the company’s most talented new wrestlers before going on to defend the championship against him and another top prospect at an event that honored the fifteen years of WCF history. Heady times for the ex-Scoutmaster.
But those challenges have come and gone. The need to prove himself more than Worthy is no longer such a dominant motivator for Stuart. Now, it is Slane’s duty to remain Champion for as long as he can. That means fighting for the belt each week. Every match when you hold the Television Title strap is the equivalent of an elimination game: win or fall back down the card.
Stuart knows this. His motto, his leitmotif, is based entirely around being ready for whatever task awaits him to be mastered. But given the day to day grind of his life outside wrestling, sometimes it can be hard to compel himself to do the necessary work that comes with being a champion, especially when the foe he has to face has done little to stoke those competitive fires. CJ Phoenix was a good wrestler, to be sure, but not one whose ability and presence put any real concern in him. Also, he had been nothing but respectful towards him during their brief interactions. There was no reason to go after Mister Phoenix; to put him in his place, beyond the obvious motive that he was gunning for Stu’s title. If Slane was on his game defeating this latest contender should be a given. However, despite a lifetime of drills and practice performing the routine could be an issue for him. This flaw can be fatal in the incredibly competitive sport Slane has chosen. So what can he do to elude such ennui? Well, in the past, when Stu was ‘bad’, he would conceive fanciful conspiracy theories involving other wrestlers trying to destroy him. These imaginary machinations served as mental billboard material for the big man. Now, though, as a ‘good guy’, he really couldn’t do that. Levelling unfounded charges against his opponents just won’t wash; not if he wanted to keep his place on the WCF Alignment Chart. That consequence seemed to prohibit Stuart from creating a shadowy cabal of ne’er-do-wells to blame his troubles on.
Fortunately for him, sometimes the WCF Galaxy provides.
February 20, 2016
Gold’s Gym
San Antonio, Texas
The Holiday Inn Stuart was staying out had only the most basic of workout facilities, but did provide a discount for using a better equipped fitness center close enough to reach by public transportation. The ever frugal Television Champion took advantage of the amenity. Right now he was working on his chest, leaning against an incline bench and bringing the sixty pound dumbbells high over his head, holding them there, and sloooooooowly drawing down his gibbon-like arms until they were fully extended and level with his shoulders. It was when he was in this position he heard his name called.
Voice: Ahem. Mister Slane?
Stuart crooked his neck so he could see who had addressed him. Six individuals stared back. Eclectic in appearance, they shared a common countenance of desperation and futility that made them recognizable to the canny veteran.
They were jobbers.
Slane: Yes? May I help you?
One gentleman, tall and lanky and dusky, spoke up.
Same Voice as Before: My name is Andre the Pliant. These are my cohorts, The Little Green Man, Dong Wang Kim, 50 Pence, Torada Baruta, and Squatting Horse.
The other five men nodded in greeting.
Andre: We represent the Hue World Order.
Stuart, nonplussed and non-interested, raised the dumbbells for another incline fly.
Slane: I see. And how can I help you?
The Little Green Man: Change up yer act.
Dong Wang Kim: Your gimmick is non-inclusive, stale, and monotone.
Slane: Monotone?
Torada Baruta: You know what he means, Slane, don’t make him come out and say it!
Stuart continued his exercises.
Slane: Why not? Because that would make this conversation even sillier if he did?
Squatting Horse: There’s nothing silly about wanted to see a greater representation of color in WCF, sir. That’s what the Hue World Order is all about.
Slane finally sat up to confront the odd grouping.
Slane: Don’t you think there are more deserving targets in WCF for your attention? Dag Riddick, perhaps? Or Jordan Wolfram?
50 Pence: Oh, we have a list.
Don Wang Kim: You’d be surprised who’s on it.
The Little Green Man: Shadowlove, Chance von Crank, Andre Jenson….
Andre: Yours just happens to be the first name chosen, Stuart. You’ll serve as an example for all the others who refuse to tow the color line.
Slane: What does that even mean? Are you calling me racist? Is this a white privilege thing?
Torada Baruta: You could say that.
50 Pence: White is an absence of color, Stuey.
The Television Champion had heard enough. Setting the weights down, he stood from the bench and marched up to the towering but reedy Andre.
Slane: Look. I don’t know what your game is, and I really don’t care. But don’t threaten me. And don’t put yourself into my business. Back when I first joined WCF I awarded myself a few nicknames. One of the undeserved ones was “Stable Killer”.
He gave each member of the Hue World Order a significant glare.
Slane: Continue this harassment and that title will at last become genuine.
Stuart took a couple steps back . He reached down, picked up sweat rag, and without moving his gaze away from the assembled HWO, wiped off the bench for the next person who needed it. Then he headed for the locker room and back to his hotel without further incident.
