Post by "The Fabulous One" Dan Fierce on Jun 6, 2016 18:24:10 GMT -5
Thirteen Year Itch - Epilogue
Sometimes being too comfortable in one's life can lead to the doldrums; pure, seemingly inescapable boredom that borders on passive aggressive madness. That was generally what Dan had viewed his life was becoming. Mere existence and nothing else. Sure he had the dojo to run, and it really brightened his day when one of his charges showed some sort of improvement beyond merely going through the motions.
Going through the motions.
The thought made Dan chuckle a bit at the irony. Perhaps that was what truly brought him back into the fold of the wrestling community once again. Perhaps it was the roar of the crowd that brought back the itch to perform. Or perhaps it was a simple, selfish need to prove something to the world, to prove that the name of Dan Fierce could actually be more than just a footnote in all of wrestling's mid-cards.
Throughout his career, he had enjoyed every fan base and every promotion he had been a part of. And throughout his career, he had been told countless times that he would never achieve anything above mediocrity. It had been repeated so many times that, to an extent, even Dan himself had bought into it, choking when the pressure was truly on.
Dan lovingly stroked a framed picture of his adoptive parents he had picked up from his mantle, slow tears of nostalgia and bittersweet dripping on the glass before he decided it would be a better idea to hold it further from his emotional face.
Those were the times when he missed his adoptive parents, particularly his father. His mother was the perennial nurturer, something his biological mother lacked in spades, even before his unintentional coming out party. She would kiss the wounds, either physical or mental and make him feel better. His father would tell him how he got his wounds and teach him how to avoid them, overcome them, so that they never happened again. Now he needed them both; his mother to help him lick the wounds of being eliminated from Manifest Destiny, his father to go over the footage with an objective opinion.
Slowly, gently, a pair of arms encompassed Dan, giving him a small start. Brian pecked at his neck before resting his chin on Dan's shoulder. Brian understood the affection Dan had for his parents, and he knew exactly what was going through his partner's mind.
"They would be so proud of you," Brian soothed.
Dan patted Brian's arms thankfully as he nodded in silence, the words stopping in his throat. He inhaled deeply through his nose and out through his mouth several times before he regained the ability to speak. "I know," he insisted as he wiped the last remaining tears from his eyes.
They both stood in silence as Dan replaced the frame to its place of honor. Finally, they turned to really look at each other. Dan had put on a well ironed pair of black slack to go with his rainbow sequined button-up shirt, one that he hadn't wore in what seemed like ages.
Brian was dressed in an equally presentable pair of cream colored khakis and a genuine vintage Hawaiian shirt. They didn't see the need to get dolled up over the top, since their celebration was going to start off with a few hours at Gay Pride, a rigorous night of bar hopping, possibly capped off with a few events in the bedroom that would make Olympic gymnasts green with envy. If they could stay awake that long. They hadn't celebrated much of anything anymore, it seemed. They had some time to make up for.
Dan had achieved what he had set out to do; he won the Icemann Invitational, something only seven others before him had managed. He felt like Charlie Bucket and he finally had his golden ticket. It wasn't given to him. It was earned. And it was his. It wasn't the grandest prize in all of the world, but to him, it was one step closer to truly cementing his name in PCW's history books.
Tonight, though? Tonight was for letting loose all of the tension that had been building up inside them both for months, perhaps years. In the grand scheme of things, it may have been a small victory, but as his dad would say, "A small victory earned is better than a large victory given as a gift."
Tonight, he would be celebrating two victories. His main event win at Living a Legacy, and the beginning of the demolition of the wall that had been erected betwixt himself and the love of his life.
"I guess I don't have a whole lot to say at this very moment. I'm coming down from the high of winning the grade prize of the tournament. I could stand here and gloat, saying 'I told you so,' but that would diminish the accomplishment and belittle those who didn't make it. That's not what I'm about.
"Brenna worked her a-double-crooked-letter off and she gave me a great fight. As far as I'm concerned, she earned the right to run with the big dogs in PCW, AND she did it in an even shorter amount of time than I did. So my bedazzled hat goes off to you, girlie. Mama may have the title shot, but you're going to get plenty of them on your own very soon.
Keep your eyes on her, Faithful.
"In fact, there's a lot of new talent coming in the door that dares to impress. I have to say, this bitch will be cashing in ASAP, because when that young talent starts looking up, I want to be one of the ones they face.
"The Icemann Invitational brought some of the more seasoned guys out of the woodwork too. That did my heart good to see some of the older names resurface. Andy D. Rick Majors. Yes I know Majors didn't come in for the tournament, but his timing was right, so I'm counting it. The other big player that came out of the shadows is also my opponent; Murdoc.
"I'm not going to say anything derogatory about the guy. I'm not stupid. Remember me saying something about kicking beehives wearing honey underwear? Yeah. I've faced some outright frightening people in my tenure, people most of the fans of PCW may not even be familiar with like Cyren, Justin "Raziel" Jones, and a former co-tag champion and teammate Famine of the Vile.
"All of those guys would rather skin their opponents, torture them, or just outright murder them in their sleep than look them in the eyes. While I don't know if that's the kind of bloodlust Murdoc has coursing through his veins, I'd rather just keep this a simple wrestling match a go on living my life to its extent, thank you.
"At the same time, I have some great momentum going, and I can't afford to allow that to come to a halt now. As long as Murdoc plays nice, so will I. Rest assured, I can punch my bitch card if it comes down to that.
"So what do you say, oh masked one? Are we going to have a match or a street fight? There's a boy scout motto that goes, 'Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.' You can bet your bottom dollar that I'll be going into Trauma 193 with that very thing in mind. Let's keep the nastiness to ourselves and give the fans what they paid for; a great match. See you on Thursday."
Dan Blows a fistful of glitter and a kiss to the camera. "Ta ta, tall, dark, and scary."
