Post by Deleted on Aug 4, 2013 15:24:06 GMT -5
Sometimes I wonder to myself why I bothered hiring Sam Hayworth as my consultant. The man took all the control he was given, and then some. Yet for all my doubts, there was something about the man that was undeniably useful. Maybe it was his reputation for perfection or his slave driver work ethic. Either way though, I was not impressed with this “press conference” and I took every opportunity to tell him.
“Arica how many times must I impress upon you the importance of these events? Who are you right now? You’re some female wrestler named Trouble who has a win and a loss. That’s it. You’re a glitch in the system, a minor inconvenience to anyone who wants to climb the rungs of PCW ladder. How do we fix that? Well first off, you need a little bit of exposure. This is the perfect opportunity to gain that exposure. You are three matches in and competing for the Genesis Title. Nothing major mind you, because let’s be honest the title can switch hands at the drop of a hat. However, it is still a belt, a belt you need to tell them you are going out to win, and then follow through on your words,” he replied to me, giving me as exasperated a look as I was giving him.
I had to give it to him though, it did make sense. If I wanted to go anywhere I needed to make myself known, I needed to put myself out there. Contrary to what he told me, this title shot was a lot bigger than he knew, at least to me. It was my first real test. The real question was could I defeat the elusive and slippery Q? From what I had seen, just when you thought the man was down for the count he turned the tables on you, and you found yourself wiping the proverbial tears off your face.
As I stepped out of Sam’s 2012 silver Corvette Stingray, I still wasn’t sure of the answer. Sure, there was a possibility I could defeat Q, but I had a very limited amount of time to do it in, and that was the biggest obstacle. Time limited matches had never been my specialty. I recalled a house show match in which I was facing a wrestler who went by the ring name of The Exterminator. Six foot six and a hulking three hundred pounds of muscle, it was a challenge in and of itself. He hadn’t been the most experienced of wrestlers, but then again neither was I. I fought him tooth and nail and when the twenty minutes was up, I had dished out more than I had taken, I was close to winning. However close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. If only I had another five minutes…
Snapping back to the present, I took a glance around. We had entered a pretty nondescript building, at least to look at. It was a brick building, not different from the others that crowded it on either side. The nearly floor to ceiling windows looked like they could use a good cleaning, although who was I to judge? If there was one thing I hated, it was cleaning windows. You could never really get the damned things completely streak free. As shabby as the building looked though, I knew that Sam had a good reason for picking it.
The Blue Dog Café seemed like an ordinary coffee shop, but I knew better. It’s owners had been sympathizers of rebels and delinquents since opening in the late 60’s and as it had stayed in the hands of the family ever since, not much had changed. I knew exactly why Sam had picked this particular establishment. He wanted me to let the world know I was mean, cold, and didn’t give a damn what anyone thought about it, and what better a place to give my first conference than the famous Blue Dog? Despite myself, I smiled. Sam really did know what he was doing, even if he was a giant prick at times, and more than ever I was glad I had invested my money in him.
As we entered the café, I took a liking to it immediately. The place looked like it had been ripped right out of the 60’s, and I doubted much had changed. From the cramped yet cozy feel of the era, to the wooden chairs and tables that were no doubt original, it was the perfect place to let the world know that Arica Lewitt was here to stay, and didn’t care what anyone thought. The dark and dingy atmosphere would add a nice touch, and I found myself becoming excited about the conference, something that I wouldn’t have ever imagined myself feeling.
There was a little stage, raised just enough off the floor so that whoever was on it was the center of attention, but not enough to distract from the atmosphere, and we were headed towards it. Upon nearing the stage, Sam put a hand on my shoulder.
“Arica, I just want to impress upon you how important this is. This could make or break your image, so you need to do this on your own. I will introduce you and set the rules for questioning, but after that you are on your own. If I didn’t believe you had what it took, I wouldn’t have agreed to be your consultant, no matter what sum of money you could muster. However, I do believe in you, and that’s why I took you on, for a lot less than I normally take someone on. You are built from the stock of your father, but there is something more to you. A charisma he could never possess, a determination and competitiveness that most could only dream of. My only advice is to go up there and follow your instincts. Make me proud,” he spoke to me in a serious tone I had never heard him use with me and I figured this must actually be as important a moment in my career as he believed it was. I was beginning to believe it too.
“Thanks Sam… I won’t let you down,” was all I could muster, not used to hearing anything even remotely close to praise from him and as such, I was taken aback.
“I know you won’t, now let’s get up there and you give them hell!” he said flashing one of those rare smiles that were beginning to become more commonplace these days. It was the equivalent of a wolf smiling, both intriguing and terrifying at the same time.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I have gathered you here today for a short conference concerning my client, one of PCW’s rising superstars, the wrestler known as Trouble. As you no doubt know, she is scheduled in a match in a few day’s time against the mysterious man known only as “Q”. She is only three matches into her professional career and now has a chance to take the Genesis title from the “Alphabet Man”, and so I have set up this conference. It will be short, four questions only in total, because we have more important things such as training and preparation for this match, so choose your questions wisely. Without further ado, I present to you, Trouble!” Sam spoke, and then held out the microphone for me to take.
I would be lying if I didn’t admit I was nervous as all hell, but I took the microphone anyways, knowing that this was an important moment. Sam stepped off the stage, leaving me alone against the pitchforks and torches that were the questions of the mob that had assembled. It strengthened me knowing that Sam would never be too far away, and that if anything happened, he would be there. I was after all, one of his clients, and he never turned his back on a client.
I could read the expressions of those congregated in front of me. Most were of disbelief. I figured that I knew what they were thinking. How could this tiny woman be a threat to anyone? Why would the great Sam Hayworth align himself with someone such as me? Well, I figured I would give them their reason.
“Trouble, from what we’ve seen of Q he is a most unpredictable wrestler. Do you think you can defeat him?” My first question came from a man who resembled an overgrown weasel, with a long hooked nose.
“Is this the calibre of questioners I am going to have to deal with for the next three questions? What a stupid question that is. I don’t think I can defeat him. Not in the slightest. I KNOW I can defeat him, and at the Icey’s, when I walk away with that title, the whole world will know too. My name is an extension of who I am. I will be trouble for Q and he’ll find that out quickly enough. Hell, I’ll be a thorn in the side of any man or woman in the locker room who stands in my way. Whether it be Grimm, Ace Anderson, Andy D, Whitey Ford, or anyone else. You get in my way, and we’re going to have a problem. You’ll see why they call me Trouble,” I spoke, my voice layer upon layer of seething rage and contempt, something I was good at portraying. However it was not merely acting, no, I was genuinely insulted by the stupidity of the man.
“As you no doubt know, there is a time limit present in all Genesis title matches. Will that be a factor in whether you win or not?” came the second question, from an attractive woman with jet black hair.
“Once again, the stupidity of the questions you asks astounds me. As I have already informed you, I will win the match, and I will take that title from Q. Of course the time limit will play a part in the match! Where did you get your questions from, the back of a cereal box?! Don’t you worry, when the match is all said and done, Q will be wishing that the time limit was half of what it is. When he is laying on his back and Eric Russo makes that three count and the bell rings, he’ll be left wondering what happened. I don’t need fifteen minutes to defeat Q,” I replied, my voice laced with even more venom than before. I saw the woman recoil as I insulted her, and had to stop myself from smiling. It would do no good to smile; I wanted them to know that I was as mean as I talked.
“Trouble, you’ve told us twice now that you will in no uncertain terms, win your match and take the title from Q. You have only two matches under your belt in PCW and one of them is a loss. What makes you so certain that you will win, with so little experience?” came the third question, from a much older gentleman, with thin grey hair and a weathered looking face.
“Thank you. Finally someone in this cluster of incompetent fools who has posed a question that is actually worth an answer. You make a valid point. I have only two matches under my belt, yet I am confident I WILL become the next champion. Why? I am often underestimated. I am the only one who knows the limits to which I can push myself. I am the only one who knows what I am capable of. However to answer your question, what makes me so certain? It is simple really. To repeat the words of parents all over this planet, it’s because I said so. That will be the end of this questioning, and I would thank you for your time, but that would be a lie. This was a waste of my time, all of you except the older gentleman. I expected more of you, yet that was a mistake. After all, I go out there and do things while you chase people around and ask them questions. We are not of the same caliber. Next time you want to ask some questions, take a page out of Mr. Grey Hair and use your brains, if there are any in those hollow heads of yours. This is the first and last time I will answer your standard, pre-written questions,” I replied once again forcing back a smile that threatened to blow the whole event up in my face as I saw the look of shock and disbelief on the face of the questioners.
“Hey! I thought there was going to be four questions! That was only three!” a squeaky voice shouted from somewhere in the mob of questioners, and wanting to bring this waste of time to a close with a bang, I decided to reply.
“I know how to count thank you, and judging by the quality of your questions, I am surprised you can. You are right Sam did say there would be four questions, but you know what? I don’t feel like answering another question. That is all, no please move the hell out of my way,” I replied and linking arms with Sam, we slowly and deliberately made our way through the crowd of incompetent questioners and walked out of the Blue Dog.
“Arica how many times must I impress upon you the importance of these events? Who are you right now? You’re some female wrestler named Trouble who has a win and a loss. That’s it. You’re a glitch in the system, a minor inconvenience to anyone who wants to climb the rungs of PCW ladder. How do we fix that? Well first off, you need a little bit of exposure. This is the perfect opportunity to gain that exposure. You are three matches in and competing for the Genesis Title. Nothing major mind you, because let’s be honest the title can switch hands at the drop of a hat. However, it is still a belt, a belt you need to tell them you are going out to win, and then follow through on your words,” he replied to me, giving me as exasperated a look as I was giving him.
I had to give it to him though, it did make sense. If I wanted to go anywhere I needed to make myself known, I needed to put myself out there. Contrary to what he told me, this title shot was a lot bigger than he knew, at least to me. It was my first real test. The real question was could I defeat the elusive and slippery Q? From what I had seen, just when you thought the man was down for the count he turned the tables on you, and you found yourself wiping the proverbial tears off your face.
As I stepped out of Sam’s 2012 silver Corvette Stingray, I still wasn’t sure of the answer. Sure, there was a possibility I could defeat Q, but I had a very limited amount of time to do it in, and that was the biggest obstacle. Time limited matches had never been my specialty. I recalled a house show match in which I was facing a wrestler who went by the ring name of The Exterminator. Six foot six and a hulking three hundred pounds of muscle, it was a challenge in and of itself. He hadn’t been the most experienced of wrestlers, but then again neither was I. I fought him tooth and nail and when the twenty minutes was up, I had dished out more than I had taken, I was close to winning. However close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. If only I had another five minutes…
Snapping back to the present, I took a glance around. We had entered a pretty nondescript building, at least to look at. It was a brick building, not different from the others that crowded it on either side. The nearly floor to ceiling windows looked like they could use a good cleaning, although who was I to judge? If there was one thing I hated, it was cleaning windows. You could never really get the damned things completely streak free. As shabby as the building looked though, I knew that Sam had a good reason for picking it.
The Blue Dog Café seemed like an ordinary coffee shop, but I knew better. It’s owners had been sympathizers of rebels and delinquents since opening in the late 60’s and as it had stayed in the hands of the family ever since, not much had changed. I knew exactly why Sam had picked this particular establishment. He wanted me to let the world know I was mean, cold, and didn’t give a damn what anyone thought about it, and what better a place to give my first conference than the famous Blue Dog? Despite myself, I smiled. Sam really did know what he was doing, even if he was a giant prick at times, and more than ever I was glad I had invested my money in him.
As we entered the café, I took a liking to it immediately. The place looked like it had been ripped right out of the 60’s, and I doubted much had changed. From the cramped yet cozy feel of the era, to the wooden chairs and tables that were no doubt original, it was the perfect place to let the world know that Arica Lewitt was here to stay, and didn’t care what anyone thought. The dark and dingy atmosphere would add a nice touch, and I found myself becoming excited about the conference, something that I wouldn’t have ever imagined myself feeling.
There was a little stage, raised just enough off the floor so that whoever was on it was the center of attention, but not enough to distract from the atmosphere, and we were headed towards it. Upon nearing the stage, Sam put a hand on my shoulder.
“Arica, I just want to impress upon you how important this is. This could make or break your image, so you need to do this on your own. I will introduce you and set the rules for questioning, but after that you are on your own. If I didn’t believe you had what it took, I wouldn’t have agreed to be your consultant, no matter what sum of money you could muster. However, I do believe in you, and that’s why I took you on, for a lot less than I normally take someone on. You are built from the stock of your father, but there is something more to you. A charisma he could never possess, a determination and competitiveness that most could only dream of. My only advice is to go up there and follow your instincts. Make me proud,” he spoke to me in a serious tone I had never heard him use with me and I figured this must actually be as important a moment in my career as he believed it was. I was beginning to believe it too.
“Thanks Sam… I won’t let you down,” was all I could muster, not used to hearing anything even remotely close to praise from him and as such, I was taken aback.
“I know you won’t, now let’s get up there and you give them hell!” he said flashing one of those rare smiles that were beginning to become more commonplace these days. It was the equivalent of a wolf smiling, both intriguing and terrifying at the same time.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I have gathered you here today for a short conference concerning my client, one of PCW’s rising superstars, the wrestler known as Trouble. As you no doubt know, she is scheduled in a match in a few day’s time against the mysterious man known only as “Q”. She is only three matches into her professional career and now has a chance to take the Genesis title from the “Alphabet Man”, and so I have set up this conference. It will be short, four questions only in total, because we have more important things such as training and preparation for this match, so choose your questions wisely. Without further ado, I present to you, Trouble!” Sam spoke, and then held out the microphone for me to take.
I would be lying if I didn’t admit I was nervous as all hell, but I took the microphone anyways, knowing that this was an important moment. Sam stepped off the stage, leaving me alone against the pitchforks and torches that were the questions of the mob that had assembled. It strengthened me knowing that Sam would never be too far away, and that if anything happened, he would be there. I was after all, one of his clients, and he never turned his back on a client.
I could read the expressions of those congregated in front of me. Most were of disbelief. I figured that I knew what they were thinking. How could this tiny woman be a threat to anyone? Why would the great Sam Hayworth align himself with someone such as me? Well, I figured I would give them their reason.
“Trouble, from what we’ve seen of Q he is a most unpredictable wrestler. Do you think you can defeat him?” My first question came from a man who resembled an overgrown weasel, with a long hooked nose.
“Is this the calibre of questioners I am going to have to deal with for the next three questions? What a stupid question that is. I don’t think I can defeat him. Not in the slightest. I KNOW I can defeat him, and at the Icey’s, when I walk away with that title, the whole world will know too. My name is an extension of who I am. I will be trouble for Q and he’ll find that out quickly enough. Hell, I’ll be a thorn in the side of any man or woman in the locker room who stands in my way. Whether it be Grimm, Ace Anderson, Andy D, Whitey Ford, or anyone else. You get in my way, and we’re going to have a problem. You’ll see why they call me Trouble,” I spoke, my voice layer upon layer of seething rage and contempt, something I was good at portraying. However it was not merely acting, no, I was genuinely insulted by the stupidity of the man.
“As you no doubt know, there is a time limit present in all Genesis title matches. Will that be a factor in whether you win or not?” came the second question, from an attractive woman with jet black hair.
“Once again, the stupidity of the questions you asks astounds me. As I have already informed you, I will win the match, and I will take that title from Q. Of course the time limit will play a part in the match! Where did you get your questions from, the back of a cereal box?! Don’t you worry, when the match is all said and done, Q will be wishing that the time limit was half of what it is. When he is laying on his back and Eric Russo makes that three count and the bell rings, he’ll be left wondering what happened. I don’t need fifteen minutes to defeat Q,” I replied, my voice laced with even more venom than before. I saw the woman recoil as I insulted her, and had to stop myself from smiling. It would do no good to smile; I wanted them to know that I was as mean as I talked.
“Trouble, you’ve told us twice now that you will in no uncertain terms, win your match and take the title from Q. You have only two matches under your belt in PCW and one of them is a loss. What makes you so certain that you will win, with so little experience?” came the third question, from a much older gentleman, with thin grey hair and a weathered looking face.
“Thank you. Finally someone in this cluster of incompetent fools who has posed a question that is actually worth an answer. You make a valid point. I have only two matches under my belt, yet I am confident I WILL become the next champion. Why? I am often underestimated. I am the only one who knows the limits to which I can push myself. I am the only one who knows what I am capable of. However to answer your question, what makes me so certain? It is simple really. To repeat the words of parents all over this planet, it’s because I said so. That will be the end of this questioning, and I would thank you for your time, but that would be a lie. This was a waste of my time, all of you except the older gentleman. I expected more of you, yet that was a mistake. After all, I go out there and do things while you chase people around and ask them questions. We are not of the same caliber. Next time you want to ask some questions, take a page out of Mr. Grey Hair and use your brains, if there are any in those hollow heads of yours. This is the first and last time I will answer your standard, pre-written questions,” I replied once again forcing back a smile that threatened to blow the whole event up in my face as I saw the look of shock and disbelief on the face of the questioners.
“Hey! I thought there was going to be four questions! That was only three!” a squeaky voice shouted from somewhere in the mob of questioners, and wanting to bring this waste of time to a close with a bang, I decided to reply.
“I know how to count thank you, and judging by the quality of your questions, I am surprised you can. You are right Sam did say there would be four questions, but you know what? I don’t feel like answering another question. That is all, no please move the hell out of my way,” I replied and linking arms with Sam, we slowly and deliberately made our way through the crowd of incompetent questioners and walked out of the Blue Dog.