Post by High Tide on Sept 5, 2016 19:45:46 GMT -5
The Long Road
The streets were wet, but he didn't mind. It was kind of something he had gotten used to. John “High Tide” Reese looked around, and seeing noone he reached into his long worn coat to pull out what was an extremely small flask. Times were as rough as the seven seas. He shrugged to himself while he maneuvered the lid off.
He had been out of it for too long, wrestling that was. The rain started on again, only the slightest of drizzles, but it was that cold sort of rain that you felt in your bones. A quick, and only swig of the flask fixed that feeling really quick. High Tide screwed the lid back on and replaced the flask in his cloak. He was tempted to grab for another, but it wouldn't last if he did, so he decided against it.
Everything had fallen apart so quickly. It wasn't even one thing that had brought his downfall, he mused to himself as he continued his walk down the street, his eyes taking in all the establishment signs. No, it was a combination that had sunk his ship. Old enemies had resurfaced, leaving him with very limited options. Money began to dwindle, as he had never really thought he needed an accountant (a mistake in hindsight). Any support network he had, minus Wasp who was still in hiding himself (another mistake made by High Tide, but that's a story for another time), had distanced themselves, whether by his actions or theirs. Truth be told, he had barely made it out of the circumstances, so he was grateful for what he did have.
His eyes gleamed for a second, but then were downcast again. He had thought one of the signs proclaimed “Free Coffee”, and it had, but upon inspecting the fine print it turned out he had to buy one to get the free one. He shook his head but moved on. Walking kept him warm, and the warmer he stayed, the longer the rum would last. This was a very important condition of survival, the rum moreso than the staying warm.
So here he was, he thought to himself a sad smile coming unbidden to his lips, crawling out of the hole he had inevitably dug himself. He was literally at his rock bottom. He had been lucky that PCW had been so understanding about his sudden disappearance, and had given him his job back. At this point, that's exactly what it was. A job. His love for wrestling had not dwindled, he told himself pausing his stride for a moment as a large crack of thunder whipped through the mostly silent neighbourhood he was passing through; but what he needed now was to build himself a foundation. That meant money. Luckily for him, PCW happened to be one of those companies that actually paid it's employees.
The match itself still mattered to him because winning only lead to greater things in this buisiness, he thought to himself as he suddenly made a sharp right turn, shielding his eyes from the glare of a car passing by with it's high beams on. He had been informed very kindly that he would be fighting Lunacy, and that if he happened to win he'd be the Underground Champion. The office type person who had been on the phone hadn't understood his laughter and he hadn't felt like explaining several near death situations all while standing at a payphone at the time. Becoming a champion sounded like it could only help in the long run, and well, a win is always a win.
His feet were getting cold now, his socks long since soaked, and it was back into the jacket for another quick swig of rum. He couldn't have another for awhile, there just wasn't enough to last. Yet a win from this match would put him on the up quicker than expected. There was also the little matter of gold, which he personally thought always looked so much better on him than on anyone else...
He was moving again, weaving through small residential streets and rarely used paths (at this time of night anyways). He had to shack up for the night, and having spent literally the last twenty dollars in his pocket until his first payday on rum, he wasn't going to be sleeping in the classy comforts of even the sleaziest motel. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, he thought to himself, kicking at stray twigs and small rocks that littered the low visibility path he had taken. He was a pirate, and it wasn't the first time (nor did he doubt it would be the last) that he had slept in less than luxury and it hadn't killed him yet.
From his oversized backpack, black and weatherstained, he retrieved an electric lantern and turned it on. The huge, ancient, trees that covered the path blocked out almost all the light that the moon and stars provided. Even the nearby city lights could not break through the oppression that was a leafy canopy. He was headed for a specific place, one he knew by heart. He only carried the lantern so he could see if there was any imminent threats, though he felt like the only thing it would do was draw attention to the fact that he was there.
He was getting close he thought, and he was thankful for it. He needed sleep as he had a long day ahead of him. He hadn't saved even enough money for a taxi, and so he was going to be walking to the arena for his match. He'd just have to pace himself so that his energy levels would still be okay before his match with Lunacy. In a strange way he almost felt bad for Lunacy. He was probably a great wrestler, but there was one thing he wasn't. Hungry. He smiled to himself this time consciously. Yes, he decided, hungry was the right word. This win could do great things for himself, and there was nothing he wouldn't do to win it. Lunacy just happened to be standing in his way.
He rounded a corner in the trail and began bushwhacking now that he was close. He had chosen a place to stay that wasn't directly off the path, but alternatively, was not too far so that he could always get to it when he needed to. Four minutes after pushing various bushes, flowers and other assorted foliage out of his way, he stopped and smiled. There is was, he thought to himself, his most recent home and untouched by man or beast.
The reality was that it was a simple place. High Tide had used some money once he had found the place to buy a small tarp which he had tied between three trees that were extremely close growing. The made almost a triangle, and Tide made good use of the space. He had bought a few other things before the money had run dry. A portable firepit, an assortment of seasonings, a couple dingy pots and pans from thrift shops, and a few other things. Everything was neatly arranged into the tiny space, along with his musty old sleeping bag. It was hard to keep a sleeping bag dry in wet weather.
He climbed into it anyways, relieved to find that it was pretty dry, before turning off his lantern. The last thoughts he remembered having before drifting off to dreamland was how battered Lunacy would be during the match, before he finally couldn't take anymore. He let these sweet, sweet thoughts take him to an unconscious state with a satisfied grin gracing his face.
The streets were wet, but he didn't mind. It was kind of something he had gotten used to. John “High Tide” Reese looked around, and seeing noone he reached into his long worn coat to pull out what was an extremely small flask. Times were as rough as the seven seas. He shrugged to himself while he maneuvered the lid off.
He had been out of it for too long, wrestling that was. The rain started on again, only the slightest of drizzles, but it was that cold sort of rain that you felt in your bones. A quick, and only swig of the flask fixed that feeling really quick. High Tide screwed the lid back on and replaced the flask in his cloak. He was tempted to grab for another, but it wouldn't last if he did, so he decided against it.
Everything had fallen apart so quickly. It wasn't even one thing that had brought his downfall, he mused to himself as he continued his walk down the street, his eyes taking in all the establishment signs. No, it was a combination that had sunk his ship. Old enemies had resurfaced, leaving him with very limited options. Money began to dwindle, as he had never really thought he needed an accountant (a mistake in hindsight). Any support network he had, minus Wasp who was still in hiding himself (another mistake made by High Tide, but that's a story for another time), had distanced themselves, whether by his actions or theirs. Truth be told, he had barely made it out of the circumstances, so he was grateful for what he did have.
His eyes gleamed for a second, but then were downcast again. He had thought one of the signs proclaimed “Free Coffee”, and it had, but upon inspecting the fine print it turned out he had to buy one to get the free one. He shook his head but moved on. Walking kept him warm, and the warmer he stayed, the longer the rum would last. This was a very important condition of survival, the rum moreso than the staying warm.
So here he was, he thought to himself a sad smile coming unbidden to his lips, crawling out of the hole he had inevitably dug himself. He was literally at his rock bottom. He had been lucky that PCW had been so understanding about his sudden disappearance, and had given him his job back. At this point, that's exactly what it was. A job. His love for wrestling had not dwindled, he told himself pausing his stride for a moment as a large crack of thunder whipped through the mostly silent neighbourhood he was passing through; but what he needed now was to build himself a foundation. That meant money. Luckily for him, PCW happened to be one of those companies that actually paid it's employees.
The match itself still mattered to him because winning only lead to greater things in this buisiness, he thought to himself as he suddenly made a sharp right turn, shielding his eyes from the glare of a car passing by with it's high beams on. He had been informed very kindly that he would be fighting Lunacy, and that if he happened to win he'd be the Underground Champion. The office type person who had been on the phone hadn't understood his laughter and he hadn't felt like explaining several near death situations all while standing at a payphone at the time. Becoming a champion sounded like it could only help in the long run, and well, a win is always a win.
His feet were getting cold now, his socks long since soaked, and it was back into the jacket for another quick swig of rum. He couldn't have another for awhile, there just wasn't enough to last. Yet a win from this match would put him on the up quicker than expected. There was also the little matter of gold, which he personally thought always looked so much better on him than on anyone else...
He was moving again, weaving through small residential streets and rarely used paths (at this time of night anyways). He had to shack up for the night, and having spent literally the last twenty dollars in his pocket until his first payday on rum, he wasn't going to be sleeping in the classy comforts of even the sleaziest motel. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, he thought to himself, kicking at stray twigs and small rocks that littered the low visibility path he had taken. He was a pirate, and it wasn't the first time (nor did he doubt it would be the last) that he had slept in less than luxury and it hadn't killed him yet.
From his oversized backpack, black and weatherstained, he retrieved an electric lantern and turned it on. The huge, ancient, trees that covered the path blocked out almost all the light that the moon and stars provided. Even the nearby city lights could not break through the oppression that was a leafy canopy. He was headed for a specific place, one he knew by heart. He only carried the lantern so he could see if there was any imminent threats, though he felt like the only thing it would do was draw attention to the fact that he was there.
He was getting close he thought, and he was thankful for it. He needed sleep as he had a long day ahead of him. He hadn't saved even enough money for a taxi, and so he was going to be walking to the arena for his match. He'd just have to pace himself so that his energy levels would still be okay before his match with Lunacy. In a strange way he almost felt bad for Lunacy. He was probably a great wrestler, but there was one thing he wasn't. Hungry. He smiled to himself this time consciously. Yes, he decided, hungry was the right word. This win could do great things for himself, and there was nothing he wouldn't do to win it. Lunacy just happened to be standing in his way.
He rounded a corner in the trail and began bushwhacking now that he was close. He had chosen a place to stay that wasn't directly off the path, but alternatively, was not too far so that he could always get to it when he needed to. Four minutes after pushing various bushes, flowers and other assorted foliage out of his way, he stopped and smiled. There is was, he thought to himself, his most recent home and untouched by man or beast.
The reality was that it was a simple place. High Tide had used some money once he had found the place to buy a small tarp which he had tied between three trees that were extremely close growing. The made almost a triangle, and Tide made good use of the space. He had bought a few other things before the money had run dry. A portable firepit, an assortment of seasonings, a couple dingy pots and pans from thrift shops, and a few other things. Everything was neatly arranged into the tiny space, along with his musty old sleeping bag. It was hard to keep a sleeping bag dry in wet weather.
He climbed into it anyways, relieved to find that it was pretty dry, before turning off his lantern. The last thoughts he remembered having before drifting off to dreamland was how battered Lunacy would be during the match, before he finally couldn't take anymore. He let these sweet, sweet thoughts take him to an unconscious state with a satisfied grin gracing his face.