Post by "The Fabulous One" Dan Fierce on Aug 6, 2016 8:53:17 GMT -5
Return to Glory - Bridging Memories: Part Two
Dan pushed the door ajar, peeking through timidly at the man inside. His thick brown hair and the black rims of his glasses were all he could make out of the man initially as he quickly scribbled in a pad, his head downturned in full concentration. He looked to be a man of at least Dan's age, which helped set him a bit at ease as the door clicked shut quietly behind him. Even though he and Brian had seen the psychologist before as a couple, this visit felt like it were his first time. It smacked of déjà vu, a feeling that bothered him inwardly.
Without looking up from his task at hand, the man spoke in a slight German accent, the irony of which almost made Dan giggle aloud. "I apologize, Mr. Fierce. I'll be with you in a minute. Please, sit wherever you are most comfortable."
Rather than sit, Dan scoped out the room, gravitating towards the awards and placards covering one particular wall. The chairs were tastefully upholstered, from the red Corinthian leather fainting couch to the high backed Victorian adorned in a coordinated suede. All of the wood had a mahogany finish. The one thing that the room lacked, in his expert opinion, was a splash or two of color. It had a bit of a dark and serious air.
The books blanketing the shelves along another wall were primarily based in the inhabitor's profession, which wasn't too surprising. The final shelf housed books of a far different kind. There were books aimed at kids on the lower shelves, with the target age groups evolving as they scaled upwards. Around eye level was an entire shelf of classic literature, all antique. Dan removed one that struck his interest, turning to his host for permission. "May I?"
While he was busy scrutinizing credentials and surroundings, Dan's every move was being observed and noted. The oval faced man looked up from his pad with a genuine smile. "Please do, just be careful," the doctor instructed, "some of those are first editions. Very Valuable."
Dan removed the one his finger had chosen. Cautiously, he removed it from its place. The covers crackled against each other as the book was pulled, which almost made him think better of disturbing the collection. He examined the tome, turning it every which way. The edges of the pages were deckled, which showed that he had, in fact chosen a first edition hardback. The gold foil stamping and ridged spine matched nearly every book available on that shelf. The only thing that had differed between any of them was the color of the covers.
"Dante's 'Divine Comedy'," noted the doctor, giving Dan's heart a bit of a skip, since he hadn't noticed the psychologist's approach. "Interesting choice."
Dan carefully returned it to its position, worried about damaging it, should he crack the cover open. "It's a bit difficult to get into the meter of the story at first, but no harder than Shakespeare to understand if you put the effort into it." Dan sighed as it came to rest in its rightful position. "It's a classic."
Dr. Schulmann allowed the moment to pass before motioning to the sitting area insistently. "Shall we get started?"
Dan silently nodded, his usual smile filled with undertones of anxiety. he sat on the fainting couch, the leather creaking in protest under him. "Is here okay?"
"Wherever you feel is fine," the doctor assured. "I want you to be as comfortable as possible." The shrink sat in the Victorian high back, appearing more akin to a monarch than a confidant to Dan. His years of training and experience caught onto Dan's disquiet, and he moved to another, less imposing chair.
Dan laid on the couch on his side, taking precaution to keep his feet off of the furniture. "Paint me like one of your French models," he joked with a nervous smile.
The doctor politely chuckled in response. "If you like, you may remove your shoes to put your feet up. It's quite comfortable. I often nap there on slow days or long nights."
Dan sat back up, doing as instructed, and doffing his loafers, and revealing his fuchsia socks. He glanced up as he placed his footwear side-by-side at the end of the couch. "Socks on, or off?" he inquired.
"On, please," answered his host, "unless your feet sweat, then perhaps off would be better."
"Honey, I'm gay," Dan retorted as if that were explanation enough. Nevertheless, he added, "We don't sweat,' we 'sparkle.'"
"It's nice to see that you're relaxing a bit, Mr. Fierce," noted the doctor aloud. He rifled through his notes he had taken with his current patient as a tandem for a starting point, but eventually thought better of it. He returned his pad to the top page, where Dan could see some notes had already been taken from today's encounter. He leaned back, breathing deeply, nodding to himself. "You had made a remark that ever since the Orlando shooting, things had not been okay, and that's what brought you here today on your own. Let's start by discussing that. How do you feel right now?"
"I feel fine now, I suppose." That statement made Dan tilt his head curiously as it exited his mouth.
The psychologist observed the shift in body language. "Be honest with yourself, and with me. I can't help you otherwise. I could tell that caught you off guard as you said it. Why?"
"I don't know. I mean, I'm not sure. Before, I was outraged and saddened, to a very life-altering point. Now, I'm just numb. It caught me as strange because my mind wondered if it was normal to feel 'used to it.'" Dan paused. "It's sad, in a way."
Dr. Schulmann placed his forefingers on his chin thoughtfully, his hands clasped together. "As a society, we have all undergone some sort of disconnect to the amount of violence we encounter, an immunity or tolerance."
"But is it 'normal?'" Dan queried. "It doesn't feel right to be tolerant of that kind of thing."
"Normal is subjective, Mr. Fierce, but if I'm to be completely honest, I'd answer that I would hope violent behavior never becomes acceptable."
Dan spent his hour of time with his doctor discussing violence in society and his feeling about it. What started out as an uncomfortable initial solo visit ended with the atmosphere of two friends discussing the state of the world.
As the timer dinged, Dan felt a pang of disappointment, knowing that his session was finished. "I appreciate you talking with me about all of this." He stood, the shrink responding likewise. They shook hands before Dan looked down, pretending to examine the floor awkwardly. "May I see you some more?"
"You may see me as often or as little as you choose," offered the doctor. "Do you have more you wish to discuss?"
"Yeah," replied Dan meekly. "I have more issues that Cosmo magazine."
"I highly doubt that is true, Mr. Fierce. Just remember that you can only immediately affect the world around you. Don't allow it to overwhelm you, and just do what you can with what you have."
Dan let this thought sink in. He nodded with determination as the doctor saw him to the door. "I think I know where I can start." Dan made his next appointment, his mind aflutter with ideas as he left the office. "The Iceys are coming up. I may regret what I'm about to do, but if I can put an end to at least some of the violence in PCW, then it will be worth it."
"Return to Glory is just around the corner. At the Iceys, I opened up my mouth and did what most people would consider career suicide; I confronted the monster known as Murdoc once again. I did the unthinkable, and put my number one contendership up for grabs, and I did it against a man with a reputation for putting his opponents on the disabled list.
"Maybe I have bitten off more than I can chew, but as far as I'm concerned, I'm flat-out sick of people interjecting themselves in the front of the line for the World Championship, all because they feel a sense of entitlement. News flash, kiddies; the ONLY bitch entitled to a shot is yours truly. I EARNED that position.
"I've grown tired of those around me just cutting in line because they think themselves more worthy or that I can't handle my position. No. More. Justin Kaard got his way, and he got his rematch, which I'm certain he will squander away, all because he doesn't feel the need to put in a full effort. Or he'll make some sort of lame-assed excuse for his lackluster performance. On the off chance he actually does as he wants and manages to regain his title, I MIGHT be nice enough to allow Grimm one last chance at their little game of ping-pong before I step in and slap the bitch out of them both.
"As for Murdoc, I'm going to use this opportunity to prove that not only can I go toe-to-toe with PCW's biggest and baddest, I can prove that I'm the number one contender for a reason. Showtime wasn't stepping up to the plate to quell Murdoc's idiotic tantrums, so something had to be done. Fine. I have what he wants, so if our President won't placate him, then I will.
"Throughout my career, I've faced every kind of crazy there is. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Murdoc is absolutely no different. He's a large, brutish, heathen who thinks that the only way he can get attention and get his way is by throwing a tantrum.
"Here's the scoop, sunshine; Mama doesn't give a good gawd damn about your moronic fits. Boil it down to brass tacks, and we each have a win over the other. This is our rubber match. I may or may not emerge from this with life, limb, and my 'place in line' intact, but the truth is, I've already won.
" I've won because I've set the example that people like Murdoc, who prefer bullying tactics over patience and persistence, will never be able to make someone like me back down. I've won because I've stood up not only for what was right, but for what is rightfully mine.
"At Return to Glory, I will face the man-monster one last time. I will show the world that he's not to be feared, and with the added stipulation of 'No Holds Barred,' I will show the entire world that even monsters bleed red.
"After that, no matter who's at the top of the mountain, they had better watch out. This queen is after the throne, and not a single damned person in that locker room will stop me. Toodles."
