Post by Rick Majors on Jun 16, 2020 20:18:23 GMT -5
Rick Majors struggled into his apartment, barely able to hold the door open long enough to walk through it. He dropped his bag on the floor then dropped his body onto the nearest chair. It was more of a bench than a chair, actually, but it didn’t matter. It was a place to sit. He thought about taking his shoes off, but even that much movement seemed like something he couldn’t handle right now. He just sat. And sat. And sat. He closed his eyes. His knee was THROBBING so much that it felt like there was a second heart in there. His neck could barely move. His head ached something awful.
He finally opened his eyes and looked down. The PCW Underground Title had fallen out of his bag. Is he supposed to give that back? If they don’t ask for it, he’s keeping it.
It felt strange knowing that he was never going to defend it again. It was so odd knowing that he and so many others had gone through so many hellacious wars and now it was just over. The blood that was spilled over this title was incredible. Great competitors have held it. Gem, Cory Steel, High Tide, Hiroshima Yukio, Q, Kelli Starr, Brenna Gordon, Andy D, Kyle Shane, NCM, Sicko, Dominator, Holden Ross, David Hunter, Razor Blade, Jason Willard, and many, many more. He himself had even held it three times, if you count his reign as Gabriel, which he did. Now its day was done. The battles were over. It was old and being tossed aside.
Soon it would be gone forever. The physical championship would be mothballed. The memories would be forgotten by history. That’s it. It didn’t even get a real goodbye. A shiny new belt was here to replace it. Few would mourn the Underground Title.
It was always known as the “other” belt. It certainly wasn’t the World Championship and it wasn’t the North American belt either. It didn’t get the respect it deserved. It was treated mostly as a stepping stone to “real” championships or a sideshow where the freaks battled it out. But it mattered. The PCW Underground Title mattered. To those who fought for it, who risked their lives for it, it mattered.
It was the first PCW championship he’d ever won under his real name. It was the only title PCW title he had held more than once. He actually had some decent reigns too. Sure, they weren’t Dominator-level accomplishments, but he always carried the belt with pride. It wasn’t a sideshow to him nor was it a sideshow to any of the fighters to bled over it, who broke bones over it, who shortened their careers in hopes of winning it. It deserves better than the fate it will receive.
But now the Genesis Championship was returning. That would please the PCW purists who still wish it was 2013. But he was always more of a Super Nintendo guy. Mario vs Sonic? Come on, it’s not even a question. Super Mario World was one of the greatest video games of all time.
He made himself laugh there for a moment. It felt good to laugh, but it also hurt to laugh. Like, it physically hurt. Maybe it’s good that they’re getting rid of the Underground Title after all. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. He thought that he knew pain before, but that was before the Underground. There’s a whole new level of pain in this division. Maybe management was right and it was time to bring the whole thing to a close. But still, he couldn’t believe they were naming a championship after the band that sang “Invisible Touch.”
His body still ached. Pain has always been an odd thing for him. It’s been a constant in his life and he’s gotten used to it, but it’s not like he enjoys it. Does anyone really enjoy it? Some pretend to, some can accept it, some don’t know how to live without it, but he can’t picture anyone actually enjoying it. Not even sexually.
One of the first times he remembers feeling actual physical pain was when he was about seven years old. He was running around in the living room and he slipped over a toy. He fell right on the glass coffee table, hitting his chin. Right after it happened, he burst into tears and instinctively grabbed his stuffed polar bear (who he had cleverly named “Mr. Polely”) Mr. Polely was his favourite toy in the world. He loved that bear more than anything. He slept with it every night and hugged it whenever he needed comfort. As he squeezed Mr. Polely tightly that day, he started to feel better. The pain of slamming his chin on the edge of the table started fading away. It was actually going to be okay. He could do this. He wiped the tears from his eyes and released his tight grip on his stuffed friend. As he did, he looked down. Mr. Polely was now bright red.
He dropped the bear on the floor and ran out of the room.
His mom tried to get the blood stain out of Mr. Polely’s head for days. Despite her best efforts, it remained a dull brown splotch.
That’s kind of how pain has always been for him. It happens, he’s shocked, he thinks it’s going to be okay, then something nightmarish happens that scars him for life. And it’s those emotional scars that are far more damaging than the physical ones. They haunt him.
Grimm doesn’t seem like a man who is haunted by pain, or haunted by anything really. He has certainly been through it all, but he keeps moving forward. As good as he is physically and as talented as he is in the ring, it’s that drive to keep going, keep proving himself, keep advancing that makes him a terrifying opponent. Rick Majors is continuously looking back over his shoulder. He’s keeping one eye on the past at all times. There’s a part of him that is always back there, that can’t move forward. He’s always thinking of something that happened hours or days or years ago. Pain, like the horror of seeing a blood-soaked Mr. Polely, is always there. It stops him from advancing. It stops him from truly living. He can’t let go of it and, truthfully, he doesn’t want to let go of it.
His past has made him who is he is today. That’s true for everyone, but Rick Majors is incredibly nostalgic for what once was, even if that past was filled with pain. He lives in the rearview mirror, constantly angry or sad or wistful about things that once were. The scars are there forever and, in a way, he treasures them.
For everyone, there comes a day when their parents ask them to get their old stuff out of the house. For Rick Majors, that day wasn’t a walk down memory lane, it was excruciatingly painful. He knew he couldn’t keep everything, but he desperately wanted to. It physically hurt him to throw things out. He still has a storage locker somewhere that’s filled with boxes from his childhood. He can’t get rid of it, not even when Seromine demanded he burn his old life and become reborn. Mr. Polely is in one of those boxes. His white fur is surely a disgusting, matted mess right now. He’s probably old and grey or worse. He’s likely a bit like Rick Majors now. Broken down, ugly, covered in dried blood, and wondering exactly what is going on.
So, of course Grimm will be prepared for the match. That’s who he is. He’s one of the best in PCW history. He’s a man who broke Rick Majors’ heart in his first PCW match, who almost killed Rick Majors in the ring, and who met him for coffee before a big tag match on the last Trauma. Grimm is a great wrestler, so it’s no surprise that he was also a great partner. If the tag team titles were the belts that were coming back, Rick would consider asking Grimm to pair up. But this isn’t a tag title. This is the Genesis Title. This is an achievement that Rick Majors wants, and likely one that Grimm wants too. The Hangtown Horror never dared slumming it down in the Underground, but maybe this belt was more his liking. It was certainly one that Rick Majors desired.
Gabriel won the Underground Title before Rick Majors did. Gabriel won the North American title, a belt that has never been around Rick’s waist. But the Genesis title represented rebirth in so many ways. The title itself was returning, but winning it would also symbolize Rick Majors heading on a new path, one that isn’t tainted by the Church of Serominism.
But he can never truly get away from those days. The past is always there. Its ugly face comes out on the regular, taunting Rick Majors into turning back, tempting him to take his eyes off the road. And, in this match, the past will be represented by Holden Ross. That’s not to say Holden Ross is old news. That’s certainly not the case. Pandæmonium remains the hottest thing in wrestling, even without David Hunter. Holden Ross and Rick Majors certainly waged war over the Underground title, and he didn’t expect anything different from their battles in the Genesis division, except maybe he’ll get hit with fewer chairs.
Now that he thinks about it, there is one positive to the end of the Underground. Holden Ross desperately wanted to be its King once more and now that will never happen. It sounds spiteful and petty, but Rick is glad he could take that from him. He’s glad that he could kill his dream, because Holden Ross tried to kill him.
And speaking of Underground stalwarts, the fourth competitor in this match is the mighty Razor Blade. Much like Rick Majors, the biggest moment in his PCW career was winning the Underground title against all odds. Much like Rick Majors, he didn’t have the respect of anyone in the locker room, but he still worked hard, showed up every day, and chipped away at that boulder in his path until it broke.
All these three men were motivated. All these three men were talented. All these three men could break Rick Majors in half.
Just because the Underground is ending, it doesn’t mean the pain is ending. And that’s okay. Pain is what he knows. Pain is what he understands. Pain is what he lives with.
There’s no doubt in Rick’s mind that he can potentially beat these men. Even Grimm, who has been in his way at every turn, is only human. They can all fall. They can all break. But the past is an enemy that Rick Majors may never overcome. It’s still gripping him. Its cold hand remains on his shoulder at all times, pulling him backwards. The strange thing is he doesn’t want it to let him go. It’s all he has. Without that hand, he would be alone.
The reality is, automobile accidents and bloody bears aside, a lot of his past was quite beautiful. He was raised by a single mother and she was wonderful. His entire family was wonderful. They were kind and supportive and caring and they told him he could do anything he wanted. His life wasn’t a life of pain, no matter how much he wants to wallow and pretend that it was.
His ex-wife Kelly was just as supportive and loving, if not more so, than the rest of his family. She sacrificed so much for him. She put her own goals aside to help him achieve his. She dealt with his anger and his carelessness and his paranoia every single day and she did it with a smile on her face.
The truth is that’s why the past means so much to him. It’s not filled with pain. He just says that to excuse his current actions. The truth is his past represents happiness. It represents a time when his life contained love and support and when his future was bright and filled with promise. It’s the exact opposite of how he lives today.
He let everyone down. They gave him everything they could, they put him on a path aiming at success, and he fucked it up. He spiralled out of control. He threw away everything they gave him. And now he’s sitting alone on a bench beside a messy gym bag unable to move his neck.
Nothing he does now will change that. His mother didn’t stay up with him all night as a baby in hopes that he’d be a 48-year-old midcard title holder. Kelly didn’t skip law school and travel the roads with him because she dreamed that one day he’d scrape together a couple wins. He’d let them both down so many times before and there was no way to ever fix those mistakes. Kelly is gone. Sure, they still talk, but she’s barely in his life anymore. If he’s honest with himself, the same is true of his mother. They only really see one another on holidays and special occasions now. She never calls, likely because she doesn’t want to hear him mope, and he never calls because he’s embarrassed. Winning the Genesis Title won’t mend the relationships he’s broken and it won’t make their huge sacrifices worth it. Nothing will.
Shut up, Rick. Stop thinking you’re special. No one can change the past. You’re not unique. Don’t wallow. You’ve lived a much more privileged life than many. You tossed aside the people who loved you, but at least you had people to love you in the first place.
Nothing you do can change the past, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to improve the future. Their sacrifices were made for him. His sacrifices were made for him. Rolling over and dying doesn’t help anyone. Sure, becoming the first competitor to hold the new Genesis Title does nothing to repair his life nor will it cause any great change in the world, but neither does being miserable. So why choose miserable? Because it’s easy? Since when does Rick Majors do things because they’re easy?
He slowly got up from the bench. He tried to reach down and pick up his bag. He body ached. He could barely bend. He gave up on the bag for now, but he managed to scoop up the Underground Title. It shouldn’t be tossed aside like that. Not when its retirement is near. Not when it needs someone to care about it. It should go out with respect. Just like him.
He finally opened his eyes and looked down. The PCW Underground Title had fallen out of his bag. Is he supposed to give that back? If they don’t ask for it, he’s keeping it.
It felt strange knowing that he was never going to defend it again. It was so odd knowing that he and so many others had gone through so many hellacious wars and now it was just over. The blood that was spilled over this title was incredible. Great competitors have held it. Gem, Cory Steel, High Tide, Hiroshima Yukio, Q, Kelli Starr, Brenna Gordon, Andy D, Kyle Shane, NCM, Sicko, Dominator, Holden Ross, David Hunter, Razor Blade, Jason Willard, and many, many more. He himself had even held it three times, if you count his reign as Gabriel, which he did. Now its day was done. The battles were over. It was old and being tossed aside.
Soon it would be gone forever. The physical championship would be mothballed. The memories would be forgotten by history. That’s it. It didn’t even get a real goodbye. A shiny new belt was here to replace it. Few would mourn the Underground Title.
It was always known as the “other” belt. It certainly wasn’t the World Championship and it wasn’t the North American belt either. It didn’t get the respect it deserved. It was treated mostly as a stepping stone to “real” championships or a sideshow where the freaks battled it out. But it mattered. The PCW Underground Title mattered. To those who fought for it, who risked their lives for it, it mattered.
It was the first PCW championship he’d ever won under his real name. It was the only title PCW title he had held more than once. He actually had some decent reigns too. Sure, they weren’t Dominator-level accomplishments, but he always carried the belt with pride. It wasn’t a sideshow to him nor was it a sideshow to any of the fighters to bled over it, who broke bones over it, who shortened their careers in hopes of winning it. It deserves better than the fate it will receive.
But now the Genesis Championship was returning. That would please the PCW purists who still wish it was 2013. But he was always more of a Super Nintendo guy. Mario vs Sonic? Come on, it’s not even a question. Super Mario World was one of the greatest video games of all time.
He made himself laugh there for a moment. It felt good to laugh, but it also hurt to laugh. Like, it physically hurt. Maybe it’s good that they’re getting rid of the Underground Title after all. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. He thought that he knew pain before, but that was before the Underground. There’s a whole new level of pain in this division. Maybe management was right and it was time to bring the whole thing to a close. But still, he couldn’t believe they were naming a championship after the band that sang “Invisible Touch.”
His body still ached. Pain has always been an odd thing for him. It’s been a constant in his life and he’s gotten used to it, but it’s not like he enjoys it. Does anyone really enjoy it? Some pretend to, some can accept it, some don’t know how to live without it, but he can’t picture anyone actually enjoying it. Not even sexually.
One of the first times he remembers feeling actual physical pain was when he was about seven years old. He was running around in the living room and he slipped over a toy. He fell right on the glass coffee table, hitting his chin. Right after it happened, he burst into tears and instinctively grabbed his stuffed polar bear (who he had cleverly named “Mr. Polely”) Mr. Polely was his favourite toy in the world. He loved that bear more than anything. He slept with it every night and hugged it whenever he needed comfort. As he squeezed Mr. Polely tightly that day, he started to feel better. The pain of slamming his chin on the edge of the table started fading away. It was actually going to be okay. He could do this. He wiped the tears from his eyes and released his tight grip on his stuffed friend. As he did, he looked down. Mr. Polely was now bright red.
He dropped the bear on the floor and ran out of the room.
His mom tried to get the blood stain out of Mr. Polely’s head for days. Despite her best efforts, it remained a dull brown splotch.
That’s kind of how pain has always been for him. It happens, he’s shocked, he thinks it’s going to be okay, then something nightmarish happens that scars him for life. And it’s those emotional scars that are far more damaging than the physical ones. They haunt him.
Grimm doesn’t seem like a man who is haunted by pain, or haunted by anything really. He has certainly been through it all, but he keeps moving forward. As good as he is physically and as talented as he is in the ring, it’s that drive to keep going, keep proving himself, keep advancing that makes him a terrifying opponent. Rick Majors is continuously looking back over his shoulder. He’s keeping one eye on the past at all times. There’s a part of him that is always back there, that can’t move forward. He’s always thinking of something that happened hours or days or years ago. Pain, like the horror of seeing a blood-soaked Mr. Polely, is always there. It stops him from advancing. It stops him from truly living. He can’t let go of it and, truthfully, he doesn’t want to let go of it.
His past has made him who is he is today. That’s true for everyone, but Rick Majors is incredibly nostalgic for what once was, even if that past was filled with pain. He lives in the rearview mirror, constantly angry or sad or wistful about things that once were. The scars are there forever and, in a way, he treasures them.
For everyone, there comes a day when their parents ask them to get their old stuff out of the house. For Rick Majors, that day wasn’t a walk down memory lane, it was excruciatingly painful. He knew he couldn’t keep everything, but he desperately wanted to. It physically hurt him to throw things out. He still has a storage locker somewhere that’s filled with boxes from his childhood. He can’t get rid of it, not even when Seromine demanded he burn his old life and become reborn. Mr. Polely is in one of those boxes. His white fur is surely a disgusting, matted mess right now. He’s probably old and grey or worse. He’s likely a bit like Rick Majors now. Broken down, ugly, covered in dried blood, and wondering exactly what is going on.
So, of course Grimm will be prepared for the match. That’s who he is. He’s one of the best in PCW history. He’s a man who broke Rick Majors’ heart in his first PCW match, who almost killed Rick Majors in the ring, and who met him for coffee before a big tag match on the last Trauma. Grimm is a great wrestler, so it’s no surprise that he was also a great partner. If the tag team titles were the belts that were coming back, Rick would consider asking Grimm to pair up. But this isn’t a tag title. This is the Genesis Title. This is an achievement that Rick Majors wants, and likely one that Grimm wants too. The Hangtown Horror never dared slumming it down in the Underground, but maybe this belt was more his liking. It was certainly one that Rick Majors desired.
Gabriel won the Underground Title before Rick Majors did. Gabriel won the North American title, a belt that has never been around Rick’s waist. But the Genesis title represented rebirth in so many ways. The title itself was returning, but winning it would also symbolize Rick Majors heading on a new path, one that isn’t tainted by the Church of Serominism.
But he can never truly get away from those days. The past is always there. Its ugly face comes out on the regular, taunting Rick Majors into turning back, tempting him to take his eyes off the road. And, in this match, the past will be represented by Holden Ross. That’s not to say Holden Ross is old news. That’s certainly not the case. Pandæmonium remains the hottest thing in wrestling, even without David Hunter. Holden Ross and Rick Majors certainly waged war over the Underground title, and he didn’t expect anything different from their battles in the Genesis division, except maybe he’ll get hit with fewer chairs.
Now that he thinks about it, there is one positive to the end of the Underground. Holden Ross desperately wanted to be its King once more and now that will never happen. It sounds spiteful and petty, but Rick is glad he could take that from him. He’s glad that he could kill his dream, because Holden Ross tried to kill him.
And speaking of Underground stalwarts, the fourth competitor in this match is the mighty Razor Blade. Much like Rick Majors, the biggest moment in his PCW career was winning the Underground title against all odds. Much like Rick Majors, he didn’t have the respect of anyone in the locker room, but he still worked hard, showed up every day, and chipped away at that boulder in his path until it broke.
All these three men were motivated. All these three men were talented. All these three men could break Rick Majors in half.
Just because the Underground is ending, it doesn’t mean the pain is ending. And that’s okay. Pain is what he knows. Pain is what he understands. Pain is what he lives with.
There’s no doubt in Rick’s mind that he can potentially beat these men. Even Grimm, who has been in his way at every turn, is only human. They can all fall. They can all break. But the past is an enemy that Rick Majors may never overcome. It’s still gripping him. Its cold hand remains on his shoulder at all times, pulling him backwards. The strange thing is he doesn’t want it to let him go. It’s all he has. Without that hand, he would be alone.
The reality is, automobile accidents and bloody bears aside, a lot of his past was quite beautiful. He was raised by a single mother and she was wonderful. His entire family was wonderful. They were kind and supportive and caring and they told him he could do anything he wanted. His life wasn’t a life of pain, no matter how much he wants to wallow and pretend that it was.
His ex-wife Kelly was just as supportive and loving, if not more so, than the rest of his family. She sacrificed so much for him. She put her own goals aside to help him achieve his. She dealt with his anger and his carelessness and his paranoia every single day and she did it with a smile on her face.
The truth is that’s why the past means so much to him. It’s not filled with pain. He just says that to excuse his current actions. The truth is his past represents happiness. It represents a time when his life contained love and support and when his future was bright and filled with promise. It’s the exact opposite of how he lives today.
He let everyone down. They gave him everything they could, they put him on a path aiming at success, and he fucked it up. He spiralled out of control. He threw away everything they gave him. And now he’s sitting alone on a bench beside a messy gym bag unable to move his neck.
Nothing he does now will change that. His mother didn’t stay up with him all night as a baby in hopes that he’d be a 48-year-old midcard title holder. Kelly didn’t skip law school and travel the roads with him because she dreamed that one day he’d scrape together a couple wins. He’d let them both down so many times before and there was no way to ever fix those mistakes. Kelly is gone. Sure, they still talk, but she’s barely in his life anymore. If he’s honest with himself, the same is true of his mother. They only really see one another on holidays and special occasions now. She never calls, likely because she doesn’t want to hear him mope, and he never calls because he’s embarrassed. Winning the Genesis Title won’t mend the relationships he’s broken and it won’t make their huge sacrifices worth it. Nothing will.
Shut up, Rick. Stop thinking you’re special. No one can change the past. You’re not unique. Don’t wallow. You’ve lived a much more privileged life than many. You tossed aside the people who loved you, but at least you had people to love you in the first place.
Nothing you do can change the past, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to improve the future. Their sacrifices were made for him. His sacrifices were made for him. Rolling over and dying doesn’t help anyone. Sure, becoming the first competitor to hold the new Genesis Title does nothing to repair his life nor will it cause any great change in the world, but neither does being miserable. So why choose miserable? Because it’s easy? Since when does Rick Majors do things because they’re easy?
He slowly got up from the bench. He tried to reach down and pick up his bag. He body ached. He could barely bend. He gave up on the bag for now, but he managed to scoop up the Underground Title. It shouldn’t be tossed aside like that. Not when its retirement is near. Not when it needs someone to care about it. It should go out with respect. Just like him.
