Post by Rick Majors on Aug 26, 2019 20:17:53 GMT -5
He woke up with his head pounding. It had been years since he touched a drink. That was one of the few positive aspects of being “saved.” The downside was that now three beers absolutely wrecked him.
Rick Majors rolled over and fell onto the floor.
He’d passed out on the couch and, despite its affordable price and modern stylings, Ikea couches aren’t exactly the greatest things to sleep on. They're quite narrow as well. He sat up. His back hurt almost as much as his head. He needed water.
Slowly and gingerly, Rick Majors made his way to the kitchen. He pulled a glass out of the cabinet and turned on the tap. As he was filling it up, it slipped out of his hand, crashing against the edge of the sink and shattering.
“Fuck,” he said out loud to no one.
While cleaning up the broken pieces, he cut his finger. Things were going wonderfully this morning. Err… this afternoon. He’d slept way too late. At least he slept. It was better than most nights, where he rolled around for six hours before giving up and getting out of bed.
Finally, after throwing the shattered pieces of the glass into the garbage, he was able to get another cup (a plastic one) and finally drink some water. He held it with two hands like a toddler. Yes, things were really going great for ol' Rick Majors. Now it was time to go through the shattered pieces of his life.
Seromine was dead. That part of the mission was accomplished. Rick Majors drove his head into the canvas twice. He watched his eyes roll into the back of his head. He felt his limp body collapse to the floor. That should have been the end of it. But Jason Willard was still in there somewhere. Rick honestly wasn’t expecting that. He also wasn’t expecting Jason’s lovely wife to show her face either.
Now it was back to square one.
Destiny was always a bigger problem than Seromine. She was always in his ear, egging him on, making things worse. She’d tell Gabriel something, then deny it later on, letting Gabriel take the fall – and the punishment – from his “Lord.” She gleefully watched as Gabriel grew more confused, more scared, and more helpless with every passing day. Not only did she watch, but she made it happen. Seromine might have been the one to convince him he needed to be reborn, but it was Destiny’s job to keep him captive. And she played that role to perfection.
They’re all actors. Every one of them. Jason Willard never believed he was the Lord, that much is true now. Right? Destiny never wanted anything other than pain for Rick Majors, despite how sweetly she’d smile or how earnestly she’d pray. They were very convincing. They fooled him for years – and they fooled him again at Return to Glory. It shouldn’t have been so easy for them. But they played him again. Or did they? They did, right? Or...?
Seromine – Jason Willard – claims he was never a broken little boy. He claims the whole thing was an act. But in every great act there is some truth. Was it at act then or is it an act now? Is this false bravado by a Jason Willard who is truly coming apart at the seams, or is it the truth coming back to smash Rick Majors with a chair?
Rick sat down at his desk. He had to think. Ultimately it didn’t matter. Whether they were acting then or acting now, the end result had to be the same. It had to. They both have to die.
Even thinking that hurt his soul. Despite everything he’d been through in life, he’d never wished death on anyone and he had certainly never wanted to cause that death himself. But yet here he is, sitting in a poorly lit one-bedroom apartment, wishing death upon a man and his wife. A father and a mother.
But it had to be that way. Because the alternative was that Rick Majors himself had to die and, strangely enough, he didn’t want that to happen right now. He didn’t fight his way out of a cult to be killed by the cult leader.
Despite the fact that it didn’t matter, he couldn’t stop thinking about whether Jason was putting on a false face now, or if he was acting before. He’d gotten inside Rick’s head again. He was good at that and, when he got there, he set up camp and stayed a while.
It’s odd that acting was on his mind so much right now, considering he was supposed to tag up with Gerard Angelo on Trauma. Mr. Hollywood himself has been struggling recently as well. Rick and Gerard had their issues with one another in the past, but Majors held no ill will against Angelo. He was a talented competitor who was doing quite well for himself before he lost to Grimm. That’s no shame. A lot of people lose to Grimm. A lot.
Just thinking about Grimm made Rick instinctively rub his neck with his hand.
While Angelo and Majors had no immediate issues between them, the same couldn’t be said for their opponents. Jason Willard and Stormm have a history so long and convoluted that it could be a Justin Michaels promo. There was another actor. In fact, Stormm might be the most talented performer of the bunch. Ever since he’s returned, he’s played the part of a respected veteran who racks up the wins and receives all the accolades. And, yes, he’d beaten Gabriel for the North American Title a couple years ago, but he didn’t exactly set the world on fire with that championship. No, he spent his time stealing belts and waving baseball bats and drinking with Johnny Matthews (RIP) and generally pretending to be someone relevant when he’s almost as washed up as Rick Majors himself.
The difference was that Rick knew his best days were behind him. Stormm, on the other hand, still fancied himself to be a main event player. So, of course he jumped into the ring after Grimm had defeated Angelo. He couldn’t help himself. He craves the spotlight just like any other actor does.
And then there’s Rick Majors. He completes the quartet of actors in this contest. Rick Majors has no idea who he is or what role he's playing. Is he confident? Is he broken? Is he talented and determined? Is he sad and hopeless? The reality is that he’s all those things. Rick Majors can wake up one day and be the man he was 15 years ago: a strong performer with the heart and talent needed to take on the world. Then he can wake up the next day, on a day like this, and be an old man who can’t pour himself a glass of water without getting hurt.
Which one will show up at Trauma? Truthfully, there’s no way to tell. All he does know is that he’s going to show up. He has to. Unless he goes out there and wrestles, what does he have? Why is he here? Where is the Tylenol?
Rick Majors rolled over and fell onto the floor.
He’d passed out on the couch and, despite its affordable price and modern stylings, Ikea couches aren’t exactly the greatest things to sleep on. They're quite narrow as well. He sat up. His back hurt almost as much as his head. He needed water.
Slowly and gingerly, Rick Majors made his way to the kitchen. He pulled a glass out of the cabinet and turned on the tap. As he was filling it up, it slipped out of his hand, crashing against the edge of the sink and shattering.
“Fuck,” he said out loud to no one.
While cleaning up the broken pieces, he cut his finger. Things were going wonderfully this morning. Err… this afternoon. He’d slept way too late. At least he slept. It was better than most nights, where he rolled around for six hours before giving up and getting out of bed.
Finally, after throwing the shattered pieces of the glass into the garbage, he was able to get another cup (a plastic one) and finally drink some water. He held it with two hands like a toddler. Yes, things were really going great for ol' Rick Majors. Now it was time to go through the shattered pieces of his life.
Seromine was dead. That part of the mission was accomplished. Rick Majors drove his head into the canvas twice. He watched his eyes roll into the back of his head. He felt his limp body collapse to the floor. That should have been the end of it. But Jason Willard was still in there somewhere. Rick honestly wasn’t expecting that. He also wasn’t expecting Jason’s lovely wife to show her face either.
Now it was back to square one.
Destiny was always a bigger problem than Seromine. She was always in his ear, egging him on, making things worse. She’d tell Gabriel something, then deny it later on, letting Gabriel take the fall – and the punishment – from his “Lord.” She gleefully watched as Gabriel grew more confused, more scared, and more helpless with every passing day. Not only did she watch, but she made it happen. Seromine might have been the one to convince him he needed to be reborn, but it was Destiny’s job to keep him captive. And she played that role to perfection.
They’re all actors. Every one of them. Jason Willard never believed he was the Lord, that much is true now. Right? Destiny never wanted anything other than pain for Rick Majors, despite how sweetly she’d smile or how earnestly she’d pray. They were very convincing. They fooled him for years – and they fooled him again at Return to Glory. It shouldn’t have been so easy for them. But they played him again. Or did they? They did, right? Or...?
Seromine – Jason Willard – claims he was never a broken little boy. He claims the whole thing was an act. But in every great act there is some truth. Was it at act then or is it an act now? Is this false bravado by a Jason Willard who is truly coming apart at the seams, or is it the truth coming back to smash Rick Majors with a chair?
Rick sat down at his desk. He had to think. Ultimately it didn’t matter. Whether they were acting then or acting now, the end result had to be the same. It had to. They both have to die.
Even thinking that hurt his soul. Despite everything he’d been through in life, he’d never wished death on anyone and he had certainly never wanted to cause that death himself. But yet here he is, sitting in a poorly lit one-bedroom apartment, wishing death upon a man and his wife. A father and a mother.
But it had to be that way. Because the alternative was that Rick Majors himself had to die and, strangely enough, he didn’t want that to happen right now. He didn’t fight his way out of a cult to be killed by the cult leader.
Despite the fact that it didn’t matter, he couldn’t stop thinking about whether Jason was putting on a false face now, or if he was acting before. He’d gotten inside Rick’s head again. He was good at that and, when he got there, he set up camp and stayed a while.
It’s odd that acting was on his mind so much right now, considering he was supposed to tag up with Gerard Angelo on Trauma. Mr. Hollywood himself has been struggling recently as well. Rick and Gerard had their issues with one another in the past, but Majors held no ill will against Angelo. He was a talented competitor who was doing quite well for himself before he lost to Grimm. That’s no shame. A lot of people lose to Grimm. A lot.
Just thinking about Grimm made Rick instinctively rub his neck with his hand.
While Angelo and Majors had no immediate issues between them, the same couldn’t be said for their opponents. Jason Willard and Stormm have a history so long and convoluted that it could be a Justin Michaels promo. There was another actor. In fact, Stormm might be the most talented performer of the bunch. Ever since he’s returned, he’s played the part of a respected veteran who racks up the wins and receives all the accolades. And, yes, he’d beaten Gabriel for the North American Title a couple years ago, but he didn’t exactly set the world on fire with that championship. No, he spent his time stealing belts and waving baseball bats and drinking with Johnny Matthews (RIP) and generally pretending to be someone relevant when he’s almost as washed up as Rick Majors himself.
The difference was that Rick knew his best days were behind him. Stormm, on the other hand, still fancied himself to be a main event player. So, of course he jumped into the ring after Grimm had defeated Angelo. He couldn’t help himself. He craves the spotlight just like any other actor does.
And then there’s Rick Majors. He completes the quartet of actors in this contest. Rick Majors has no idea who he is or what role he's playing. Is he confident? Is he broken? Is he talented and determined? Is he sad and hopeless? The reality is that he’s all those things. Rick Majors can wake up one day and be the man he was 15 years ago: a strong performer with the heart and talent needed to take on the world. Then he can wake up the next day, on a day like this, and be an old man who can’t pour himself a glass of water without getting hurt.
Which one will show up at Trauma? Truthfully, there’s no way to tell. All he does know is that he’s going to show up. He has to. Unless he goes out there and wrestles, what does he have? Why is he here? Where is the Tylenol?