Post by The Anarchist on Mar 2, 2020 18:40:37 GMT -5
Rick Majors once again found himself on the receiving end of an attack from High Tide. In a previous losing effort, he had deployed Arica "Trouble" Lewitt to assist in the capture of Underground gold.
At Love Hurts, he attacked his fellow countryman on the request by Willard, who had sent his wife to the locker room to give the word. All was legal at Mass Destruction until after a decision was rendered.
Again, Rick Majors was left in a state all too familiar. Jason Willard, as he had previously, smiled from ear to ear at the sight. But then the pirate and his two person crew decided to attack him, despite the fact he led the team to victory!
Big mistake, pirate.
A numbers game? High Tide should think carefully. You never know when ghosts of the past may come back around to get him.
Or maybe not. Maybe it wasn't personal and was a way to get an advantage going into the future.
Such is the revolving door of the PCW title hierarchy. Dominator found himself being handed a rare loss, giving birth to not only a new North American champion in Cory Steel, a first timer with no less than two aggressors now coming for him.
Stormm had thwarted a very game challenge from Gerard Angelo for the second time. What lay next for either of them was anyone's guess, but with a certain tournament coming up, The Hollywood Hero could find himself invited to potentially getting a third opportunity.
None of these things mattered to Jason Willard in the present. Two hadn't even happened when he returned to the back with the Underground title in his hand. There may have been some smatterings of congratulatory lore, but nothing that resonated enough for him to pay any mind to.
He returned to the lone set he had constructed for his promo. Adrenaline prevented any residuals from the environment from infecting his systems. He was on top of the world! While he never ever imagined himself checking off the Underground title from his list, now that he had, he was KING.
There had been no reconciliation with Destiny before he left home. She wholeheartedly did not want him anywhere near the division. Her objections were reasonable and rooted with the best of intentions, but he had a job to do and if that meant he won a championship in the process, albeit an unpopular one, then so be it.
There was an empty feeling without having her there to celebrate in some fashion. Mommy, however, was there. It didn't matter if it was only a handful of photographs that showed her age over time. She was there with him. He found happiness in that.
Mommy always celebrated his successes. No matter if they were major or minor. Who needed a spouse around to pull him under like cement booties? Mommy cared. Mommy mattered. Mommy loved him! And he deeply loved her.
He left the Underground title facing the maternal mobile while he showered. Once he dried and dressed, he began to pack his suitcase up.
"Hey you!"
Willard practically jumps out of his skin after being addressed by a gruff voice. It had the pitch of a New York cab driver with a cigar habit. He looks around but doesn't see anyone inside. But if High Tide and company wanted to try again...
"Psst. Down here."
His attention diverts to the title belt. The globes on the side plates become a pair of eyes, oddly retaining their chiseled design. The belt lifts up the right side of its leather strap, waving friendly to its new owner.
He waves back.
"Congratulations, champ! My name is Mr. Underground. It's nice to meet you. I just hope that I'm around longer than some of the previous owners had me."
"Well, I can't make any promises about that."
"I wouldn't expect you to. I've moved from home to home thirty-six times now. THIRTY-SIX! Some of those were return trips! Guess they couldn't resist having the gold guy around their waist."
Willard smirks.
"Have you seen some of those losers? Cripes. Some of them can't let go and can't move on, so they ply their craft trying to win me without a care about MY feelings! Don't I get a say in the matter?? I'm the one used to beat people up like a thug! I'm the one that gets hauled around like dirty laundry! Heck, I'm no more than a stepping stone to some people!"
"A stepping stone?"
"A stepping stone!" The title coughs like it has laryngitis. "What do the other titles got that I don't? Huh? We're all made of the same material. What makes them better than me?"
Willard doesn't respond to that. Mr. Underground doesn't need to know about prior reigns with said titles.
"Listen, I know how things work. You were too busy to hear this out there, but, uh..." The eyes go shifty. "The pirate is your first challenger."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Do you have a plan?"
"Yeah, win."
"Pffft. That's not a plan. Again. Thirty-six times."
Jason decides he's no longer interested in this conversation. He begins to remove his mother's photos, giving each one a kiss before gently putting them away.
"Oh, no. Just my luck. A momma's boy."
"Don't you DARE say anything about my mommy, you hunk of gold plated tin! The Atlantic is really easy to reach from here. Besides, Mommy will be proud that I won you!"
"Take it easy! Take it easy! I didn't mean anything by my remark." Mr. Underground holds its straps up like it were backing down.
Willard nods. "I know people think I'm weird for how I act, but I don't care. We have a very close relationship!"
Mr. Underground pats Willard on the back as he's slung over the shoulder. "Hey, good for you, man. This isn't a court and I'm not a judge. What you and her do is none of my business. Business. That's what I'm all about. Taking care of business and you, my temporary friend, have business with the pirate."
Willard refuses to spend another second talking about his job. Mr. Underground is promptly placed in the suitcase and zipped up with whatever muffled thoughts it can come up with.
After leaving the room, a burst of bright light envelopes him. Details begin to connect like dots and Lucy comes more and more into focus. Jason wakes to her smiling at him in bed.
In the background is a bowl of orange peels set on a small dresser, some party streamers, scattered balloons that have some life left in them and two empty rosé champagne bottles with half-eaten strawberries in front of them on a small dish.
"Good morning, my precious child! You were so tuckered out. I hope I didn't disturb your sleep!"
"You could never disturb me, Mommy. But how did I get here?"
"Oh, goodness, angel! I picked you up from the airport! You called me from Greenville with the details." Lucy coyly slips a bare leg over the bubblegum pink colored sheet as she says this. "Then we celebrated!"
The sight isn't lost on him. In fact, it leads him to lay his head just above her right breast. Her lips press against his forehead. "Mommy is so proud of you!"
He smiles against her slightly exposed flesh. "I knew you would be! I just wish I had the chance to dedicate the win to you like I promised I would."
"Don't be a silly goose!"
Her voice was as sweet as ever.
"We wouldn't want to make others jealous by you doing that, would we?" Her thoughts are said out loud to herself. "Goodness, no. I'm afraid that wouldn't be nice at all." Now she perks up by facing her son. "Even though she knows I gave birth to you and that you're all mine!"
He hugs her as tight as she can withstand, receiving the same in return. With enough of the morning still available, she assists him out of bed.
...
Both are clothed in sleepwear.
At Love Hurts, he attacked his fellow countryman on the request by Willard, who had sent his wife to the locker room to give the word. All was legal at Mass Destruction until after a decision was rendered.
Again, Rick Majors was left in a state all too familiar. Jason Willard, as he had previously, smiled from ear to ear at the sight. But then the pirate and his two person crew decided to attack him, despite the fact he led the team to victory!
Big mistake, pirate.
A numbers game? High Tide should think carefully. You never know when ghosts of the past may come back around to get him.
Or maybe not. Maybe it wasn't personal and was a way to get an advantage going into the future.
Such is the revolving door of the PCW title hierarchy. Dominator found himself being handed a rare loss, giving birth to not only a new North American champion in Cory Steel, a first timer with no less than two aggressors now coming for him.
Stormm had thwarted a very game challenge from Gerard Angelo for the second time. What lay next for either of them was anyone's guess, but with a certain tournament coming up, The Hollywood Hero could find himself invited to potentially getting a third opportunity.
None of these things mattered to Jason Willard in the present. Two hadn't even happened when he returned to the back with the Underground title in his hand. There may have been some smatterings of congratulatory lore, but nothing that resonated enough for him to pay any mind to.
He returned to the lone set he had constructed for his promo. Adrenaline prevented any residuals from the environment from infecting his systems. He was on top of the world! While he never ever imagined himself checking off the Underground title from his list, now that he had, he was KING.
There had been no reconciliation with Destiny before he left home. She wholeheartedly did not want him anywhere near the division. Her objections were reasonable and rooted with the best of intentions, but he had a job to do and if that meant he won a championship in the process, albeit an unpopular one, then so be it.
There was an empty feeling without having her there to celebrate in some fashion. Mommy, however, was there. It didn't matter if it was only a handful of photographs that showed her age over time. She was there with him. He found happiness in that.
Mommy always celebrated his successes. No matter if they were major or minor. Who needed a spouse around to pull him under like cement booties? Mommy cared. Mommy mattered. Mommy loved him! And he deeply loved her.
He left the Underground title facing the maternal mobile while he showered. Once he dried and dressed, he began to pack his suitcase up.
"Hey you!"
Willard practically jumps out of his skin after being addressed by a gruff voice. It had the pitch of a New York cab driver with a cigar habit. He looks around but doesn't see anyone inside. But if High Tide and company wanted to try again...
"Psst. Down here."
His attention diverts to the title belt. The globes on the side plates become a pair of eyes, oddly retaining their chiseled design. The belt lifts up the right side of its leather strap, waving friendly to its new owner.
He waves back.
"Congratulations, champ! My name is Mr. Underground. It's nice to meet you. I just hope that I'm around longer than some of the previous owners had me."
"Well, I can't make any promises about that."
"I wouldn't expect you to. I've moved from home to home thirty-six times now. THIRTY-SIX! Some of those were return trips! Guess they couldn't resist having the gold guy around their waist."
Willard smirks.
"Have you seen some of those losers? Cripes. Some of them can't let go and can't move on, so they ply their craft trying to win me without a care about MY feelings! Don't I get a say in the matter?? I'm the one used to beat people up like a thug! I'm the one that gets hauled around like dirty laundry! Heck, I'm no more than a stepping stone to some people!"
"A stepping stone?"
"A stepping stone!" The title coughs like it has laryngitis. "What do the other titles got that I don't? Huh? We're all made of the same material. What makes them better than me?"
Willard doesn't respond to that. Mr. Underground doesn't need to know about prior reigns with said titles.
"Listen, I know how things work. You were too busy to hear this out there, but, uh..." The eyes go shifty. "The pirate is your first challenger."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Do you have a plan?"
"Yeah, win."
"Pffft. That's not a plan. Again. Thirty-six times."
Jason decides he's no longer interested in this conversation. He begins to remove his mother's photos, giving each one a kiss before gently putting them away.
"Oh, no. Just my luck. A momma's boy."
"Don't you DARE say anything about my mommy, you hunk of gold plated tin! The Atlantic is really easy to reach from here. Besides, Mommy will be proud that I won you!"
"Take it easy! Take it easy! I didn't mean anything by my remark." Mr. Underground holds its straps up like it were backing down.
Willard nods. "I know people think I'm weird for how I act, but I don't care. We have a very close relationship!"
Mr. Underground pats Willard on the back as he's slung over the shoulder. "Hey, good for you, man. This isn't a court and I'm not a judge. What you and her do is none of my business. Business. That's what I'm all about. Taking care of business and you, my temporary friend, have business with the pirate."
Willard refuses to spend another second talking about his job. Mr. Underground is promptly placed in the suitcase and zipped up with whatever muffled thoughts it can come up with.
After leaving the room, a burst of bright light envelopes him. Details begin to connect like dots and Lucy comes more and more into focus. Jason wakes to her smiling at him in bed.
In the background is a bowl of orange peels set on a small dresser, some party streamers, scattered balloons that have some life left in them and two empty rosé champagne bottles with half-eaten strawberries in front of them on a small dish.
"Good morning, my precious child! You were so tuckered out. I hope I didn't disturb your sleep!"
"You could never disturb me, Mommy. But how did I get here?"
"Oh, goodness, angel! I picked you up from the airport! You called me from Greenville with the details." Lucy coyly slips a bare leg over the bubblegum pink colored sheet as she says this. "Then we celebrated!"
The sight isn't lost on him. In fact, it leads him to lay his head just above her right breast. Her lips press against his forehead. "Mommy is so proud of you!"
He smiles against her slightly exposed flesh. "I knew you would be! I just wish I had the chance to dedicate the win to you like I promised I would."
"Don't be a silly goose!"
Her voice was as sweet as ever.
"We wouldn't want to make others jealous by you doing that, would we?" Her thoughts are said out loud to herself. "Goodness, no. I'm afraid that wouldn't be nice at all." Now she perks up by facing her son. "Even though she knows I gave birth to you and that you're all mine!"
He hugs her as tight as she can withstand, receiving the same in return. With enough of the morning still available, she assists him out of bed.
...
Both are clothed in sleepwear.