Post by High Tide on Feb 11, 2020 23:00:36 GMT -5
Valentines Day. Nothing warmed a pirate's heart quite like a day of love and adoration did. Well, that was a lie. Rum did that plenty fine, and High Tide could tell you from personal experience that rum got you a hell of a lot more drunk than love did. In fact Valentines day didn't mean much of anything to him. He loved the sea, he loved his rum, and he didn't feel the need to confine his expression of that love to a singular day in the year.
However, there was one thing he loved more than anything (though rum came as a close second, if not tied, depending on the period in his life) and that was wrestling. Wrestling and by extension PCW was the one thing that kept his ship centered while it rode the rocky seas. It was the wind that guided his sails, the lifeboat he clung to when even his own ship flung him aboard. Yet he had always treated wrestling with the most haphazard of care, showing up unprepared or as if he didn't care. Showing up drunk (and not the calculated kind either) or sometimes not showing up at all. Yet wrestling was his lifeline, his rock in a hard place, his anchor so to speak.
Houses passed as he walked, a light misting rain leaving traces of water on his face and pirate jacket. No one house stood out to him more than the other, as he had walked these particular streets many times before. In recent weeks he had realized this more than any other time in his career and now he was ready to change that. He wasn't content being just any old wrestler, a quick defeat and not even a footnote in the career's of other more prestigious wrestlers. He had just needed a way to show the world how serious he was and by the world he meant mostly himself and anyone who doubted him in PCW. What better a day than Valentine's Day, a mostly useless holiday to himself, to turn into a grand show, a profession of his undying love to wrestling. He smiled to himself, wiping some of the accumulated mist off of his face. Oh, it was all too perfect.
Cars of various sizes and colours passed him by as no more than background noise. They went about their days, one long grind, while High Tide's mind was ever fixed on the final preparations of a plan long brewing. If you could consider a couple months long, anyways. PCW had even had the kindness in their heart to book him in against an absolute legend in Razor Blade in a St. Valentine's Day Massacre Match. In truth, a match where you had to make your opponent bleed against a man literally named RAZOR BLADE, scared him a bit. Yet at the same time, extreme matches were right up his alley. After all, what pirate didn't love to lie, cheat, and steal, especially if it was all legal! Prohibition? Ha! More like a pro exhibition of his skills. Wow, even he thought that was a bad joke. Good thing he wasn't trying to be a comedian, just a wrestler.
Finally as he crossed a rarely used side street, his heavy boots displacing water as they came down in a small puddle, his destination appeared close at hand. He smiled, fond memories of this place, his favourite gym you could say, welling up inside his brain. Many good times and many good drinks had been had here. Yet he wasn't here to drink, no. He was hear to train. Kind of. He approached the front door of the gym, and was both surprised and not shocked at the same time to find that the door was locked. He rapped heavily on the door, making sure that he was heard and it was apparent that he was not going away. It didn't take long to get a response.
The door swung open and the face that greeted him looked shocked to see him. The person started to speak but High Tide put up a hand to silence them, shaking his head as he did so. They nodded, and stepped aside to let High Tide in. He nodded graciously, thanking the person as they did so and he stepped inside. Before the person could so much as speak, High Tide unleashed upon the other person the entirety of his plan. Minutes ticked by, until almost fifteen of them had passed. Valentine's Day was too soon, and he needed to know if the plan was going to be viable or not. The other person stood across from him, not saying a word, but occasionally nodding.
“I'd also like to train in this gym, right now to be precise. This match is coming up soon, and I need to be ready for it. Razor Blade is no slouch and I imagine he probably has some experience making people bleed, hence the name. I doubt he is just a really good barber, but hey if he is, good for him! It's always good to have a secondary skill, after all we all get too old to wrestle at some point, but I digress! First and foremost I need to know your answer. What do you say to all this?” he asked the mysterious figure across him, who only started back intently at him. The silence was unbearable for awhile, thick as molasses in the air. Then all of a sudden, High Tide heard the only words he need to hear.
“Sure. I'm in.”
However, there was one thing he loved more than anything (though rum came as a close second, if not tied, depending on the period in his life) and that was wrestling. Wrestling and by extension PCW was the one thing that kept his ship centered while it rode the rocky seas. It was the wind that guided his sails, the lifeboat he clung to when even his own ship flung him aboard. Yet he had always treated wrestling with the most haphazard of care, showing up unprepared or as if he didn't care. Showing up drunk (and not the calculated kind either) or sometimes not showing up at all. Yet wrestling was his lifeline, his rock in a hard place, his anchor so to speak.
Houses passed as he walked, a light misting rain leaving traces of water on his face and pirate jacket. No one house stood out to him more than the other, as he had walked these particular streets many times before. In recent weeks he had realized this more than any other time in his career and now he was ready to change that. He wasn't content being just any old wrestler, a quick defeat and not even a footnote in the career's of other more prestigious wrestlers. He had just needed a way to show the world how serious he was and by the world he meant mostly himself and anyone who doubted him in PCW. What better a day than Valentine's Day, a mostly useless holiday to himself, to turn into a grand show, a profession of his undying love to wrestling. He smiled to himself, wiping some of the accumulated mist off of his face. Oh, it was all too perfect.
Cars of various sizes and colours passed him by as no more than background noise. They went about their days, one long grind, while High Tide's mind was ever fixed on the final preparations of a plan long brewing. If you could consider a couple months long, anyways. PCW had even had the kindness in their heart to book him in against an absolute legend in Razor Blade in a St. Valentine's Day Massacre Match. In truth, a match where you had to make your opponent bleed against a man literally named RAZOR BLADE, scared him a bit. Yet at the same time, extreme matches were right up his alley. After all, what pirate didn't love to lie, cheat, and steal, especially if it was all legal! Prohibition? Ha! More like a pro exhibition of his skills. Wow, even he thought that was a bad joke. Good thing he wasn't trying to be a comedian, just a wrestler.
Finally as he crossed a rarely used side street, his heavy boots displacing water as they came down in a small puddle, his destination appeared close at hand. He smiled, fond memories of this place, his favourite gym you could say, welling up inside his brain. Many good times and many good drinks had been had here. Yet he wasn't here to drink, no. He was hear to train. Kind of. He approached the front door of the gym, and was both surprised and not shocked at the same time to find that the door was locked. He rapped heavily on the door, making sure that he was heard and it was apparent that he was not going away. It didn't take long to get a response.
The door swung open and the face that greeted him looked shocked to see him. The person started to speak but High Tide put up a hand to silence them, shaking his head as he did so. They nodded, and stepped aside to let High Tide in. He nodded graciously, thanking the person as they did so and he stepped inside. Before the person could so much as speak, High Tide unleashed upon the other person the entirety of his plan. Minutes ticked by, until almost fifteen of them had passed. Valentine's Day was too soon, and he needed to know if the plan was going to be viable or not. The other person stood across from him, not saying a word, but occasionally nodding.
“I'd also like to train in this gym, right now to be precise. This match is coming up soon, and I need to be ready for it. Razor Blade is no slouch and I imagine he probably has some experience making people bleed, hence the name. I doubt he is just a really good barber, but hey if he is, good for him! It's always good to have a secondary skill, after all we all get too old to wrestle at some point, but I digress! First and foremost I need to know your answer. What do you say to all this?” he asked the mysterious figure across him, who only started back intently at him. The silence was unbearable for awhile, thick as molasses in the air. Then all of a sudden, High Tide heard the only words he need to hear.
“Sure. I'm in.”