A Calm Before the Stormm - Six
Apr 9, 2018 17:55:52 GMT -5
The Anarchist, Dominator / Mortimer, and 1 more like this
Post by Stormm on Apr 9, 2018 17:55:52 GMT -5
“Don’t make the same mistakes I did!”
Seven words. Seven little words. They played over and over in Justin’s head. Day in and day out, for the past month, there was little else he could think about. They would be the last seven words he ever heard his father say before the paramedics carted him off. Gene would pass away in the emergency room just a couple hours later. His mother, Michelle, had been killed on impact, and never made it out of the vehicle.
There was much more to the conversation between the two of them after Justin grabbed his children from the backseat, thankfully unharmed, of the wreckage. Plenty of fatherly advice that will him him at a much later date, but only seven words that constantly echoed in his mind.
As he watched their graves being filled with dirt. Those seven words.
As he wrestled Tyler Scott to a draw, a week after the accident, and just two days after the funeral. Those seven words.
As he lived, breathed, ate, drank, and slept. Those seven words.
Through all the sorrow he felt. Through all the pity he endured from others. Through all the sarcasm he tried to mask his feelings with...
“Don’t make the same mistakes I did!”
“What mistakes?!” Justin shouted.
Having been lost in thought, his outburst was surprisingly, and ambiguously, relevant as he and one of few people who understood what he was going through, his wife Lindsay, sat together during a Pure Class Wrestling media event. It was the first appearance he’d made since he retained his North American title at Mass Destruction, and also the first time Lindsay would appear with him since returning to the company last year. With good reason, of course. In fact, a lot of people were even surprised he bothered to compete at the pay-per-view in the first place.
A member of the press, nevertheless, stood stunned at the angry response to his question on what mistakes Stormm planned to correct against Tyler Scott in their rematch. Lindsay nudged Justin, who looked up from the table they sat behind. “You okay?” She leaned over and turned her head to the crowd before whispering into her husband’s ear.
He nodded at her before turning his attention back towards the man. “Given your situation, a lot are speculating that it may be affecting your performance in the ring, and just wondering what you plan on doing differently in the rematch?”
Standing up from his seat, Justin’s outrage is redirected towards the reporter. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Lindsay grabbed Justin’s right forearm, just above his clenched fist. “Don’t. It’s not going to help.”
Taking a deep breath and releasing his fists, he looked at her with one of those looks. “I’ve got this.” He said, but the look was one she knew too well. Letting go of his arm, she let him proceed, but knew he was far from calm.
“Don’t do say anything stupid.” She muttered, just loud enough for him to hear, before leaning back in her chair.
The pause was long enough for the report to open his mouth one more time, but was unable to ask another stupid question before Stormm started to answer his original. “Let’s get one thing clear, I didn’t come here to go through therapy. I don’t need you information leeches digging into my head, and trying to decide if my parents being killed by some fucking lunatic is going to be used as an excuse if I lose a match, or if it’s the reason I dug deep enough to win.” Reaching down and grabbing Lindsay’s hand, he sat back down. “My parents died four weeks ago, yes, that is probably going to affect me some while I cope with the loss, but I will never use them as an excuse.”
“There are still some sources saying that some of the information behind their accident has been kept from surfacing, are you sure there’s nothing else there that would be affecting you personally, and professionally?”
Lindsay squeezed Justin’s hand back, as he did his best to keep from leaping out of his chair and attacking the overly-curious reporter. “Honestly, no more questions about my parents, or the accident I’ve been trying not to think about constantly since it happened.”
“Is that because you are hiding som…”
“No, it’s because it’s really none of your fucking business.” Justin squeezed Lindsay’s hand back, almost to the point of him hurting her, but she clenched her teeth, and continued to smile. “If you want to know what I plan on doing differently against Scott, or what my thoughts are on the Icemann Invitational this year, ask away.” He smirked, hiding how much disdain he had for that press member, and having to explain himself in the first place. “But I’m not going to sit here and justify what’s going on in my personal life to a bunch of people who, most of which, don’t have a damn clue what I’m going through.”
It had been awhile since Lindsay Michaels had been a part of the professional wrestling spotlight, but joining her husband back in that light, she finally decided to speak up. “I’ve lost my parents, and as most of you know, my father was killed in a vehicle accident many years ago.” Justin and Lindsay share a look, as the loss of Joseph Remington Matthews is still, to that day, felt. But it was also a look of knowing that they each knew how the other felt, as they had both lost people they cared about. "He wouldn’t have wanted anyone asking me these kinds of questions about him back then, and if he were still here, he’d have been the first to tell Justin here to walk away, or make it entertaining if he stuck around.”
Most of those in attendance had a nice chuckle at her comments, the reporter who had yet to find his seat was less than appreciative of her sarcasm. It was Justin’s turn to whisper into her ear this time. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I’m not saying or doing anything I don’t want to. We’re in this together again, remember?”
They shared a nod.
“The anger, the depression, everything he’s going through that may or may not affect him inside of the ring, he could just as easily and justifiably take it out on you for asking inconsiderate questions. So for your sake, leave all of that to me and our families, and let’s talk about the real reason we’re here, Trauma 229.”
Finally taking a seat, everyone in the room who hadn’t already been staring daggers into him, was at that time.
The Force of Nature didn’t let the awkward silence last for long, though, as he tried to liven things up, and get the topic off of his parents and his obvious mental distress. “Now, as far as those ‘mistakes’ you were wondering about, I don’t make mistakes inside of the squared circle.” He smiled, and the joke went over well with a few watching on. “However, there were some things that I learned going one on one with him again that I can learn from going into the match later this week.”
“Like what?” Someone from the audience blurted out
“He’s not the same Tyler Scott I handed a loss to fairly easily four years ago in the first round of the Icemann Invitational. He’s not even the same Tyler Scott that Johnny, Grimm, and I handed a loss to in that six-man tag match at Trauma Two Twenty-Seven.” Giving the man credit where credit was due, he did take the Force of Nature to a draw at Pure Class Wrestling’s biggest pay-per-view of the year. “He’s more athletic and has more heart than some still give him credit for, and much more than I anticipated from what I could remember facing off against him in 2014.”
Members of the press, after the humiliation of the last reporter who stood up to ask a question, were either too scared to stand to ask their question, or were more interested in just rapid firing them off as the conversation went. “So how do you plan on countering that?” Yet another anonymous individual asked.
“What’s one word that describes the ending of our match at Mass Destruction?” Nobody in the small crowd had an answer for it. “Doubt.” Justin affirmed. “Tyler Scott prevented us from getting back into the ring at the end of our match at Mass Destruction, because he doubted that he could actually beat me.” Looking around at everyone who had moved passed looking at him like a little kid who just lost his parents, he smiled and pressed on. “As long as there is doubt in Tyler’s mind, there will be a Force of Nature to put him down for the three count, or and Eye of the Stormm to make him tap out.”
“You two had fought for a long time, do you think his decision to get you both counted out was a result of just being tired?”
Stormm doesn’t even need to ponder the question before answering. “He’s not going to step in the ring and beat me without working for it.” Lindsay scoffed at the thought of Justin losing any match quickly. “If he wants my North American title that badly, he’s going to have to leave it all in that ring, and barely be able to carry the belt backstage with him afterwards.”
The questions continue to be rattled off. “With your history of injuries, aren’t you worried of reaggravating one or causing others pushing others that hard?”
That question hit the Force of Nature kind of hard, and for a moment, reminded him once again of his last conversation with his father. Not those seven annoying little words, but something else, just before them. “There was a time, maybe not even that long ago, where I would have stepped inside of the ring and not given it all I had. I’ve been afraid of injuries since I tore a quad, the first time, early on in my career. Those fears grew when I tore it again, and they only got worse when I broke my collar bone a few years ago too.” He paused in contemplation. “Gone are the days where I, myself, don’t leave it all in the ring.”
Lindsay turned to her husband, both proud and scared of how he might respond. “What do you mean?” Her question wasn’t scripted, and the concern on her face painted that picture for everyone else in the room too. The look of distress on her face just barely masking the excitement she would feel depending on his response.
“I’ve been reminded lately of some advice given to me twenty years ago when I started to get my feet wet in this business. Advice I took with me to Japan, and into IAWF right before we first met.” He admitted. “Advice I’ve not taken to heart in nearly ten years, but advice I plan on following again.”
The room fell silent as Justin slipped into and out of memories of that fateful day when his Dad reminded him of something he had told him nearly two decades previously. Lindsay, unable to contain herself, spoke the words that she was only trying to say to herself in anticipation. “What is it?”
Everyone else in the room had the same look on their face that Lindsay did as he turned his attention from her back to them, and he smiled. “From now on, I’m stepping into the ring like it’s my last match, because one of these days, it will be.” The chatter began, and the volume in the room raised significantly. “I’m not going to look back at my career and regret the last few years of it because I didn’t give it my all.”
The smile on Lindsay’s face was as big as Justin had seen.
The mentality Justin was going into his next match was unlikely anything Lindsay had seen in him since his days in her father’s IAWF promotion.
“Starting with the rematch for my title against Tyler Scott, and moving into the Icemann Invitational afterwards, no match is too small, and no amount of effort is too great.”
Every reporter in the room was on their feet, wanting Justin to answer their questions. Not about the loss of his parents, but about the career there everyone, including the Force of Nature himself, had taken for granted more recently. But given recent events, and his words and actions that day, it was turning into a whole new ball game.
He had tuned everything out though. The look in Lindsay’s eyes said it all. She was proud of him. The greater feeling was that he hadn’t said it so others would be proud of him.
Despite how much he wished his parents were still around for that moment.
Despite how much he wished his other Dad, his would-have-been father-in-law Joseph Matthews, were still around for it.
There would be no greater feeling than taking pride in what he did, rather than taking it for granted and wishing he’d gone about it differently. Perhaps that’s what Gene meant when he told Justin not to make the same mistakes. It wasn’t about the things he’d done wrong, but all the things he wished he’d done differently.
To be a better worker.
To be a better husband.
To be a better father.
To just be better.
“Don’t make the same mistakes I did!”
Seven words. Seven little words. They played over and over in Justin’s head. Day in and day out, for the past month, there was little else he could think about. They would be the last seven words he ever heard his father say before the paramedics carted him off. Gene would pass away in the emergency room just a couple hours later. His mother, Michelle, had been killed on impact, and never made it out of the vehicle.
There was much more to the conversation between the two of them after Justin grabbed his children from the backseat, thankfully unharmed, of the wreckage. Plenty of fatherly advice that will him him at a much later date, but only seven words that constantly echoed in his mind.
As he watched their graves being filled with dirt. Those seven words.
As he wrestled Tyler Scott to a draw, a week after the accident, and just two days after the funeral. Those seven words.
As he lived, breathed, ate, drank, and slept. Those seven words.
Through all the sorrow he felt. Through all the pity he endured from others. Through all the sarcasm he tried to mask his feelings with...
“Don’t make the same mistakes I did!”
“What mistakes?!” Justin shouted.
Having been lost in thought, his outburst was surprisingly, and ambiguously, relevant as he and one of few people who understood what he was going through, his wife Lindsay, sat together during a Pure Class Wrestling media event. It was the first appearance he’d made since he retained his North American title at Mass Destruction, and also the first time Lindsay would appear with him since returning to the company last year. With good reason, of course. In fact, a lot of people were even surprised he bothered to compete at the pay-per-view in the first place.
A member of the press, nevertheless, stood stunned at the angry response to his question on what mistakes Stormm planned to correct against Tyler Scott in their rematch. Lindsay nudged Justin, who looked up from the table they sat behind. “You okay?” She leaned over and turned her head to the crowd before whispering into her husband’s ear.
He nodded at her before turning his attention back towards the man. “Given your situation, a lot are speculating that it may be affecting your performance in the ring, and just wondering what you plan on doing differently in the rematch?”
Standing up from his seat, Justin’s outrage is redirected towards the reporter. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Lindsay grabbed Justin’s right forearm, just above his clenched fist. “Don’t. It’s not going to help.”
Taking a deep breath and releasing his fists, he looked at her with one of those looks. “I’ve got this.” He said, but the look was one she knew too well. Letting go of his arm, she let him proceed, but knew he was far from calm.
“Don’t do say anything stupid.” She muttered, just loud enough for him to hear, before leaning back in her chair.
The pause was long enough for the report to open his mouth one more time, but was unable to ask another stupid question before Stormm started to answer his original. “Let’s get one thing clear, I didn’t come here to go through therapy. I don’t need you information leeches digging into my head, and trying to decide if my parents being killed by some fucking lunatic is going to be used as an excuse if I lose a match, or if it’s the reason I dug deep enough to win.” Reaching down and grabbing Lindsay’s hand, he sat back down. “My parents died four weeks ago, yes, that is probably going to affect me some while I cope with the loss, but I will never use them as an excuse.”
“There are still some sources saying that some of the information behind their accident has been kept from surfacing, are you sure there’s nothing else there that would be affecting you personally, and professionally?”
Lindsay squeezed Justin’s hand back, as he did his best to keep from leaping out of his chair and attacking the overly-curious reporter. “Honestly, no more questions about my parents, or the accident I’ve been trying not to think about constantly since it happened.”
“Is that because you are hiding som…”
“No, it’s because it’s really none of your fucking business.” Justin squeezed Lindsay’s hand back, almost to the point of him hurting her, but she clenched her teeth, and continued to smile. “If you want to know what I plan on doing differently against Scott, or what my thoughts are on the Icemann Invitational this year, ask away.” He smirked, hiding how much disdain he had for that press member, and having to explain himself in the first place. “But I’m not going to sit here and justify what’s going on in my personal life to a bunch of people who, most of which, don’t have a damn clue what I’m going through.”
It had been awhile since Lindsay Michaels had been a part of the professional wrestling spotlight, but joining her husband back in that light, she finally decided to speak up. “I’ve lost my parents, and as most of you know, my father was killed in a vehicle accident many years ago.” Justin and Lindsay share a look, as the loss of Joseph Remington Matthews is still, to that day, felt. But it was also a look of knowing that they each knew how the other felt, as they had both lost people they cared about. "He wouldn’t have wanted anyone asking me these kinds of questions about him back then, and if he were still here, he’d have been the first to tell Justin here to walk away, or make it entertaining if he stuck around.”
Most of those in attendance had a nice chuckle at her comments, the reporter who had yet to find his seat was less than appreciative of her sarcasm. It was Justin’s turn to whisper into her ear this time. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I’m not saying or doing anything I don’t want to. We’re in this together again, remember?”
They shared a nod.
“The anger, the depression, everything he’s going through that may or may not affect him inside of the ring, he could just as easily and justifiably take it out on you for asking inconsiderate questions. So for your sake, leave all of that to me and our families, and let’s talk about the real reason we’re here, Trauma 229.”
Finally taking a seat, everyone in the room who hadn’t already been staring daggers into him, was at that time.
The Force of Nature didn’t let the awkward silence last for long, though, as he tried to liven things up, and get the topic off of his parents and his obvious mental distress. “Now, as far as those ‘mistakes’ you were wondering about, I don’t make mistakes inside of the squared circle.” He smiled, and the joke went over well with a few watching on. “However, there were some things that I learned going one on one with him again that I can learn from going into the match later this week.”
“Like what?” Someone from the audience blurted out
“He’s not the same Tyler Scott I handed a loss to fairly easily four years ago in the first round of the Icemann Invitational. He’s not even the same Tyler Scott that Johnny, Grimm, and I handed a loss to in that six-man tag match at Trauma Two Twenty-Seven.” Giving the man credit where credit was due, he did take the Force of Nature to a draw at Pure Class Wrestling’s biggest pay-per-view of the year. “He’s more athletic and has more heart than some still give him credit for, and much more than I anticipated from what I could remember facing off against him in 2014.”
Members of the press, after the humiliation of the last reporter who stood up to ask a question, were either too scared to stand to ask their question, or were more interested in just rapid firing them off as the conversation went. “So how do you plan on countering that?” Yet another anonymous individual asked.
“What’s one word that describes the ending of our match at Mass Destruction?” Nobody in the small crowd had an answer for it. “Doubt.” Justin affirmed. “Tyler Scott prevented us from getting back into the ring at the end of our match at Mass Destruction, because he doubted that he could actually beat me.” Looking around at everyone who had moved passed looking at him like a little kid who just lost his parents, he smiled and pressed on. “As long as there is doubt in Tyler’s mind, there will be a Force of Nature to put him down for the three count, or and Eye of the Stormm to make him tap out.”
“You two had fought for a long time, do you think his decision to get you both counted out was a result of just being tired?”
Stormm doesn’t even need to ponder the question before answering. “He’s not going to step in the ring and beat me without working for it.” Lindsay scoffed at the thought of Justin losing any match quickly. “If he wants my North American title that badly, he’s going to have to leave it all in that ring, and barely be able to carry the belt backstage with him afterwards.”
The questions continue to be rattled off. “With your history of injuries, aren’t you worried of reaggravating one or causing others pushing others that hard?”
That question hit the Force of Nature kind of hard, and for a moment, reminded him once again of his last conversation with his father. Not those seven annoying little words, but something else, just before them. “There was a time, maybe not even that long ago, where I would have stepped inside of the ring and not given it all I had. I’ve been afraid of injuries since I tore a quad, the first time, early on in my career. Those fears grew when I tore it again, and they only got worse when I broke my collar bone a few years ago too.” He paused in contemplation. “Gone are the days where I, myself, don’t leave it all in the ring.”
Lindsay turned to her husband, both proud and scared of how he might respond. “What do you mean?” Her question wasn’t scripted, and the concern on her face painted that picture for everyone else in the room too. The look of distress on her face just barely masking the excitement she would feel depending on his response.
“I’ve been reminded lately of some advice given to me twenty years ago when I started to get my feet wet in this business. Advice I took with me to Japan, and into IAWF right before we first met.” He admitted. “Advice I’ve not taken to heart in nearly ten years, but advice I plan on following again.”
The room fell silent as Justin slipped into and out of memories of that fateful day when his Dad reminded him of something he had told him nearly two decades previously. Lindsay, unable to contain herself, spoke the words that she was only trying to say to herself in anticipation. “What is it?”
Everyone else in the room had the same look on their face that Lindsay did as he turned his attention from her back to them, and he smiled. “From now on, I’m stepping into the ring like it’s my last match, because one of these days, it will be.” The chatter began, and the volume in the room raised significantly. “I’m not going to look back at my career and regret the last few years of it because I didn’t give it my all.”
The smile on Lindsay’s face was as big as Justin had seen.
The mentality Justin was going into his next match was unlikely anything Lindsay had seen in him since his days in her father’s IAWF promotion.
“Starting with the rematch for my title against Tyler Scott, and moving into the Icemann Invitational afterwards, no match is too small, and no amount of effort is too great.”
Every reporter in the room was on their feet, wanting Justin to answer their questions. Not about the loss of his parents, but about the career there everyone, including the Force of Nature himself, had taken for granted more recently. But given recent events, and his words and actions that day, it was turning into a whole new ball game.
He had tuned everything out though. The look in Lindsay’s eyes said it all. She was proud of him. The greater feeling was that he hadn’t said it so others would be proud of him.
Despite how much he wished his parents were still around for that moment.
Despite how much he wished his other Dad, his would-have-been father-in-law Joseph Matthews, were still around for it.
There would be no greater feeling than taking pride in what he did, rather than taking it for granted and wishing he’d gone about it differently. Perhaps that’s what Gene meant when he told Justin not to make the same mistakes. It wasn’t about the things he’d done wrong, but all the things he wished he’d done differently.
To be a better worker.
To be a better husband.
To be a better father.
To just be better.
“Don’t make the same mistakes I did!”
