Post by Holden Ross on Feb 11, 2020 23:26:01 GMT -5
Disbelief. Anger. Fury. Just a few emotions currently swirling like a tempest within the mind and body of the Bastard, Holden Ross. He sits in a black leather chair in Doctor Malcolm’s office, quietly stewing while the doc regurgitates his threats and promises to report him to the state for non-compliance if he performs another disappearing act. His attention finally crawls out of the abyss that holds his thoughts, currently, just as the Doc finishes his speech. Quick! Does he smile and nod? Shake his head with a scowl?
“Huh?” a classic nonetheless.
“I asked if you plan on following through with the companies policy to get along or else? Are you prepared to lose one hundred grand if you don’t get along with him?” Malcolm's irritation isn’t even remotely obfuscated. Holden's chin, briefly, takes up residence on his chest.
“What?! Where did you here that bullshit?” is his reply.
“Pure Class announced it the other day and, seeing as how your counseling is mandatory, and I truly care, I keep in touch with both management and your girlfriend.”
Again his chin checks in to a place on his chest before he dismisses his Doc with a scoff.
“Pshh”
“See for yourself, then.”
Doc Malcolm presses a couple keys on his laptop before turning it so that Holden can watch as Shane Dodge gives the official announcement for the upcoming card. Sure enough, if he doesn’t cooperate with his partner, Grimm, he will be shelling out one hundred thousand of his hard earned dollars. He smirks as he closes the laptop when the brief video ends.
“Well….?”
“I'll write the check right now! Hell, even better, I’ll leave him to fend for himself against Rick and Seromine.” Is his reply. He is trying to play it cool but his voice has an edge of irritation ringing loud and clear.
“And by doing that what will you prove? That you are an asshole who does what he wants? I thought you said you wanted out of the Underground division?” Malcolm begins making his case. Holden chews on his thumbnail and scowls to himself while staring blankly at the floor, lost in his thoughts. “If you attack your partner or abandon him, you will be doing what they want, and proving you are nothing more that a bi-weekly car wreck aired on television.”
“I've started training in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu some, to try and round out my ground game because, lets face it, I got none. I'm more than just a brawler and a deathmatch King. It's hard, though, staying there and working with him against the asshole who dethroned me and a mentor. I don’t want to wrestle Seromine….”
Malcolm steeples his fingers at the tip of his nose and gives a slow, knowing nod.
“Doesn’t he go by ‘Jason Willard' now?”
Holden shrugs.
“You don't know?”
“I don’t care....he will always be ‘Seromine' to me. He is the one who advised me and guided me through the rocky waters backstage. And now I am supposed to team with that white trash piece of shit against Seromine?! I'd rather drop his ass like the North tower and shave his stupid fucking beard off…”
Malcolm scribbles on the notepad in his lap.
“Not only will you team with him, but, you will both cooperate and support him this week. Against both Rick and Jason. Understand? Don’t give them a reason to keep you in the Underground division. Go out there and show the World, on National television, that you can wrestle and not just compete in death matches. Otherwise, ill report to the courts that you aren’t cooperating with the program and refuse a piss test.”
Holden’s hands curl into fists and his eyes narrow to a glare.
“Bullshit, you wouldn’t do that.”
Malcolm leans forward.
“Oh, I most certainly will. You need to learn to not give in to your base desire, emotions, and needs. You have to learn how to deal with these thing in a positive way. Make your partnership with Grimm work in your favor. There’s always a way to see the bright side; you just have to look for it.”
“Always look on the bright side (of life)” plays in his head as what he was just told starts to sink in. He gives a slow nod, twice, and thrusts his hand forward to shake his Doctor’s.
“You’re right, I gotta figure out how to use Grimm….” he trails off, mumbling to himself, while rising from the couch and shuffling on out the door.
“Hold-, we still have forty minutes…..”
A few nights later….
A camera opens on Holden, sitting on a white leather sectional with a large oak coffee table in front of him. A blunt rests on the edge of a crystal ashtray and he picks it up to take a hit. It's a big hit; a long pull from the tobacco wrapped cannabis which causes him to close his eyes and lean back against the plush leather. He exhales a plume of smoke, with his eyes closed, and a smile creeps across his lips. Unbeknownst to him, a small crumb of ash has fallen on his left knee. When he takes another hit and leans forward to place the blunt back in the ashtray and notices the ash. He sucks hair in between his teeth and shakes his head slowly while clucking his tongue.
“This is why I don’t like expensive things; I always get em dirty and end up ruining em….” he says, with an air of defeat in his voice, while brushing the ashes off of his knee. “This is a six thousand dollar suit and I get ashes on it….at least it didn’t leave a mark. Not like the kind of mark that losing one hundred gee's would leave on my bank account, no matter how successful I have been or how wise I have been with my investments. A hundred grand ain’t nothin to sneeze at, ya know?”
He rises from his seat and takes the blunt with him as he heads to the right, his left, past a giant flat screen television and out through a sliding door. The shot switches to another camera, one already outside on the deck where Holden is headed. He takes a seat in a wooden version of his scrap iron throne and takes yet another long draw from his blunt. Rather than an ashtray, his taps the blunt, and ashes directly onto the floor. A soft breeze rustles dried leaves under the covered deck and the only light source comes from a soft light burning behind the camera somewhere.
“Loki is the president, C.E.O., whatever you wanna call him and, I get it, he's just trying to ensure this match doesn’t break down into a shit-show on the “Superstation” but it doesn’t matter. As soon as that bell rings, signaling the end of the match, both Grimm am Rick are fair game. And neither me, nor my former mentor, like either of those two. I'm not gonna lie, I don't look forward to facing Seromine for the first time, but I will do what I have to. He is one of the few I respect in this World. It’s not gonna be easy. But I’ll do it….I....if I'm forced to….but who's to say I don’t tag out everytime he tags in?
And who's to say I have to make the tag whenever the bearded wonder reaches for help? I don't like that backwoods pile of shit anymore than he likes me. One of the dinosaurs still roaming P.C.W.’s plains, like Rick or Dom or Stormm, livin on borrowed time and completely clueless to the fact that smarter, meaner Apex predators have evolved. And we are hungry for big game…. our claws are sharp, our jaws open, and our stomachs are growling. I'll see you soon….”
Tabitha enters the shot, walking into view from behind the camera, but clueless as to what Holden was saying.
“You want to go get something to eat, baby? A steak, maybe?” she asks and pauses on her way in, long enough, for a quick kiss.” He mugs for the camera as it fades to black.
“Huh?” a classic nonetheless.
“I asked if you plan on following through with the companies policy to get along or else? Are you prepared to lose one hundred grand if you don’t get along with him?” Malcolm's irritation isn’t even remotely obfuscated. Holden's chin, briefly, takes up residence on his chest.
“What?! Where did you here that bullshit?” is his reply.
“Pure Class announced it the other day and, seeing as how your counseling is mandatory, and I truly care, I keep in touch with both management and your girlfriend.”
Again his chin checks in to a place on his chest before he dismisses his Doc with a scoff.
“Pshh”
“See for yourself, then.”
Doc Malcolm presses a couple keys on his laptop before turning it so that Holden can watch as Shane Dodge gives the official announcement for the upcoming card. Sure enough, if he doesn’t cooperate with his partner, Grimm, he will be shelling out one hundred thousand of his hard earned dollars. He smirks as he closes the laptop when the brief video ends.
“Well….?”
“I'll write the check right now! Hell, even better, I’ll leave him to fend for himself against Rick and Seromine.” Is his reply. He is trying to play it cool but his voice has an edge of irritation ringing loud and clear.
“And by doing that what will you prove? That you are an asshole who does what he wants? I thought you said you wanted out of the Underground division?” Malcolm begins making his case. Holden chews on his thumbnail and scowls to himself while staring blankly at the floor, lost in his thoughts. “If you attack your partner or abandon him, you will be doing what they want, and proving you are nothing more that a bi-weekly car wreck aired on television.”
“I've started training in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu some, to try and round out my ground game because, lets face it, I got none. I'm more than just a brawler and a deathmatch King. It's hard, though, staying there and working with him against the asshole who dethroned me and a mentor. I don’t want to wrestle Seromine….”
Malcolm steeples his fingers at the tip of his nose and gives a slow, knowing nod.
“Doesn’t he go by ‘Jason Willard' now?”
Holden shrugs.
“You don't know?”
“I don’t care....he will always be ‘Seromine' to me. He is the one who advised me and guided me through the rocky waters backstage. And now I am supposed to team with that white trash piece of shit against Seromine?! I'd rather drop his ass like the North tower and shave his stupid fucking beard off…”
Malcolm scribbles on the notepad in his lap.
“Not only will you team with him, but, you will both cooperate and support him this week. Against both Rick and Jason. Understand? Don’t give them a reason to keep you in the Underground division. Go out there and show the World, on National television, that you can wrestle and not just compete in death matches. Otherwise, ill report to the courts that you aren’t cooperating with the program and refuse a piss test.”
Holden’s hands curl into fists and his eyes narrow to a glare.
“Bullshit, you wouldn’t do that.”
Malcolm leans forward.
“Oh, I most certainly will. You need to learn to not give in to your base desire, emotions, and needs. You have to learn how to deal with these thing in a positive way. Make your partnership with Grimm work in your favor. There’s always a way to see the bright side; you just have to look for it.”
“Always look on the bright side (of life)” plays in his head as what he was just told starts to sink in. He gives a slow nod, twice, and thrusts his hand forward to shake his Doctor’s.
“You’re right, I gotta figure out how to use Grimm….” he trails off, mumbling to himself, while rising from the couch and shuffling on out the door.
“Hold-, we still have forty minutes…..”
A few nights later….
A camera opens on Holden, sitting on a white leather sectional with a large oak coffee table in front of him. A blunt rests on the edge of a crystal ashtray and he picks it up to take a hit. It's a big hit; a long pull from the tobacco wrapped cannabis which causes him to close his eyes and lean back against the plush leather. He exhales a plume of smoke, with his eyes closed, and a smile creeps across his lips. Unbeknownst to him, a small crumb of ash has fallen on his left knee. When he takes another hit and leans forward to place the blunt back in the ashtray and notices the ash. He sucks hair in between his teeth and shakes his head slowly while clucking his tongue.
“This is why I don’t like expensive things; I always get em dirty and end up ruining em….” he says, with an air of defeat in his voice, while brushing the ashes off of his knee. “This is a six thousand dollar suit and I get ashes on it….at least it didn’t leave a mark. Not like the kind of mark that losing one hundred gee's would leave on my bank account, no matter how successful I have been or how wise I have been with my investments. A hundred grand ain’t nothin to sneeze at, ya know?”
He rises from his seat and takes the blunt with him as he heads to the right, his left, past a giant flat screen television and out through a sliding door. The shot switches to another camera, one already outside on the deck where Holden is headed. He takes a seat in a wooden version of his scrap iron throne and takes yet another long draw from his blunt. Rather than an ashtray, his taps the blunt, and ashes directly onto the floor. A soft breeze rustles dried leaves under the covered deck and the only light source comes from a soft light burning behind the camera somewhere.
“Loki is the president, C.E.O., whatever you wanna call him and, I get it, he's just trying to ensure this match doesn’t break down into a shit-show on the “Superstation” but it doesn’t matter. As soon as that bell rings, signaling the end of the match, both Grimm am Rick are fair game. And neither me, nor my former mentor, like either of those two. I'm not gonna lie, I don't look forward to facing Seromine for the first time, but I will do what I have to. He is one of the few I respect in this World. It’s not gonna be easy. But I’ll do it….I....if I'm forced to….but who's to say I don’t tag out everytime he tags in?
And who's to say I have to make the tag whenever the bearded wonder reaches for help? I don't like that backwoods pile of shit anymore than he likes me. One of the dinosaurs still roaming P.C.W.’s plains, like Rick or Dom or Stormm, livin on borrowed time and completely clueless to the fact that smarter, meaner Apex predators have evolved. And we are hungry for big game…. our claws are sharp, our jaws open, and our stomachs are growling. I'll see you soon….”
Tabitha enters the shot, walking into view from behind the camera, but clueless as to what Holden was saying.
“You want to go get something to eat, baby? A steak, maybe?” she asks and pauses on her way in, long enough, for a quick kiss.” He mugs for the camera as it fades to black.