Post by Loki on May 19, 2014 21:59:29 GMT -5
Brandon resisted the urge to pound the back of his head against the locker. The back of his head was already throbbing from Ford’s Backtoss piledriver, he didn’t need to make it worse by pounding it against a metal door. Frustration ate away at him, undermining his resolve. It had been a simple mistake, a rookie mistake, and apparently not one that he was immune to.
He closed his eyes and rested his head against the door, wincing anyway. If there was one silver lining it was that Whisper wasn’t back here. She’d be furious with him, not for losing, but for feeling sorry for himself. For failing to act on what he’d learned at the hands of Whitey Ford.
“The only thing more pointless than self-defeat is self-pity.” It was something he’d heard from her a thousand times and would probably hear a thousand more before he died. Brandon knew he was good, but that didn’t mean he handled loss well. It had gotten better over the years. In his early days a loss would send him into a spiraling depression. It had damaged his career and his personal life. As he got older, depression gave way to denial which in turn gave way to anger and frustration.
No sense in focusing on a match that had already been lost. Look towards the future. Look towards Murdoc. Brandon, like everyone one else in PCW, had already been shown the tournament brackets for this year’s Icemann Invitational. The first obstacle was Cory Steel, and it was a hell of an obstacle. He hadn’t had the most remarkable career in PCW, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. The man lived up to his moniker, “The Bear”, standing almost half a foot taller than Brandon and outweighed him a good sixty pounds or more. Winning his last two matches no doubt had his confidence skyrocketing. Brandon knew he’d have to be careful with this one.
As first obstacles go, Steel wasn’t the biggest or the scariest, but Brandon wasn’t about to underestimate him. Luckily, or maybe unlucky depending on how you look at it, Murdoc was on the opposite side of the bracket, meaning the only way Brandon would have to face his biggest rival would be to meet in the finals. Brandon opened his eyes with a smile. Facing Murdoc in the finals was all the motivation he needed
A knock at his locker room door chased away all of the remaining tournament fairies that had been dancing in front of his eyes. Brandon grumbled, he’d spent too much time regretting the past and planning for the future that he hadn’t had time to get cleaned up yet. He draped a towel around his neck and opened the door. He nearly fell over.
Of all the things in all the world he might have been expecting it certainly wasn’t an eighteen year old girl in far too little clothing. Recovering from his momentary shock, Brandon found his voice again.
“Uh, can I help you?” Brandon asked hesitantly
Words exploded out of the young woman, “Ohgodit’sreallyyouIcan’tbelievethisishappening.”
Brandon blinked in surprise, “Woah, woah, slow down. Let’s try this again, can I help you?”
It was a slower explosion this time, “Oh I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve waited my entire life to meet you and now it’s finally happening. They laughed at me, they said wrestling was only for boys and I was wasting my time.”
“Okay,” Brandon took a deep breath, “round three. What can I do for you, Miss?” He trailed off.
“Oh, right. Sorry, I’m Melissa and I’m your biggest fan,” she said, dragging out the final two words.
“I’m sure you are, Melissa. But how did you get back here,” Brandon asked quizzically.
“Oh, I snuck back here when security wasn’t looking. It was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be. I thought they’d catch me for sure but they never saw me. Your security isn’t very good by the way,” she replied with another small barrage.
Brandon couldn’t help but laugh, “I’m sure arena security appreciates your critique but you can’t be back here, it’s for wrestlers and crew only.”
“But I am a wrestler,” she said with a hint of pleading in her voice.
“You’re a wrestler?” Brandon asked incredulously..
“Well, not yet,” she said sheepishly, “But I’m going to be someday, I’m going to be a huge star, just like you, Loki. I’m your biggest fan!” she repeated
Brandon smiled despite himself, it was always nice to meet a fan, “And I’m sure you will be. But for now you need to go. I’ll tell you what though, give me twenty minutes to get cleaned up and I’ll take you for a cup of coffee or something.”
She let out a high pitched squeal and hugged him. Brandon awkwardly patted her on the back and then shooed her away. Thirty minutes later the pair were sitting across from one another in a small diner, each sipping coffee. Her with unbridled joy, Brandon with awkward nervousness because the young woman was still dressed in her original outfit. It was one that left little to the imagination.
“So what’s with the outfit,” he asked between sips.
“It’s my wrestling costume,” she announced proudly, “Do you like it,” she asked expectantly.
“It looks like you’re missing about half of it,” he said, meeting her eyes, “A good costume isn’t about showing off everything, it’s more important to be able move freely and unrestricted.”
Her eyes became big and doughy, “See this is why I knew you’d be perfect. We’ve only just met and you’re already giving me great advice.”
“Anything to help a fan, how old are you anyway?” Brandon asked.
“I’ve been watching you for like ten years, you’ve always been my favorite,” Melissa said without missing a beat.
“I appreciate that, but you dodged the question. How old are you, Melissa?” Brandon asked, a sinking feeling taking hold in his gut.
“Seventeen,” she squeaked.
Brandon choked on his coffee. He’d gotten dirty looks from some of the patrons when they’d walked in but if they found out she was a minor they’d be calling the cops and it wouldn’t be long before a well-dressed man was inviting him to take a seat over there.
“Seventeen, are you trying to get me arrested,” he hissed.
“No,” she said quietly. She said something afterwards but it was too quiet for Brandon to hear.
“Then what were you trying to do?” He asked.
He still couldn’t hear her response.
“You either tell me or we’re done here,” he threatened.
She met his eye. The bashful shyness was gone, replaced with a hard steely look, “I want you train me.”
He closed his eyes and rested his head against the door, wincing anyway. If there was one silver lining it was that Whisper wasn’t back here. She’d be furious with him, not for losing, but for feeling sorry for himself. For failing to act on what he’d learned at the hands of Whitey Ford.
“The only thing more pointless than self-defeat is self-pity.” It was something he’d heard from her a thousand times and would probably hear a thousand more before he died. Brandon knew he was good, but that didn’t mean he handled loss well. It had gotten better over the years. In his early days a loss would send him into a spiraling depression. It had damaged his career and his personal life. As he got older, depression gave way to denial which in turn gave way to anger and frustration.
No sense in focusing on a match that had already been lost. Look towards the future. Look towards Murdoc. Brandon, like everyone one else in PCW, had already been shown the tournament brackets for this year’s Icemann Invitational. The first obstacle was Cory Steel, and it was a hell of an obstacle. He hadn’t had the most remarkable career in PCW, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. The man lived up to his moniker, “The Bear”, standing almost half a foot taller than Brandon and outweighed him a good sixty pounds or more. Winning his last two matches no doubt had his confidence skyrocketing. Brandon knew he’d have to be careful with this one.
As first obstacles go, Steel wasn’t the biggest or the scariest, but Brandon wasn’t about to underestimate him. Luckily, or maybe unlucky depending on how you look at it, Murdoc was on the opposite side of the bracket, meaning the only way Brandon would have to face his biggest rival would be to meet in the finals. Brandon opened his eyes with a smile. Facing Murdoc in the finals was all the motivation he needed
A knock at his locker room door chased away all of the remaining tournament fairies that had been dancing in front of his eyes. Brandon grumbled, he’d spent too much time regretting the past and planning for the future that he hadn’t had time to get cleaned up yet. He draped a towel around his neck and opened the door. He nearly fell over.
Of all the things in all the world he might have been expecting it certainly wasn’t an eighteen year old girl in far too little clothing. Recovering from his momentary shock, Brandon found his voice again.
“Uh, can I help you?” Brandon asked hesitantly
Words exploded out of the young woman, “Ohgodit’sreallyyouIcan’tbelievethisishappening.”
Brandon blinked in surprise, “Woah, woah, slow down. Let’s try this again, can I help you?”
It was a slower explosion this time, “Oh I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve waited my entire life to meet you and now it’s finally happening. They laughed at me, they said wrestling was only for boys and I was wasting my time.”
“Okay,” Brandon took a deep breath, “round three. What can I do for you, Miss?” He trailed off.
“Oh, right. Sorry, I’m Melissa and I’m your biggest fan,” she said, dragging out the final two words.
“I’m sure you are, Melissa. But how did you get back here,” Brandon asked quizzically.
“Oh, I snuck back here when security wasn’t looking. It was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be. I thought they’d catch me for sure but they never saw me. Your security isn’t very good by the way,” she replied with another small barrage.
Brandon couldn’t help but laugh, “I’m sure arena security appreciates your critique but you can’t be back here, it’s for wrestlers and crew only.”
“But I am a wrestler,” she said with a hint of pleading in her voice.
“You’re a wrestler?” Brandon asked incredulously..
“Well, not yet,” she said sheepishly, “But I’m going to be someday, I’m going to be a huge star, just like you, Loki. I’m your biggest fan!” she repeated
Brandon smiled despite himself, it was always nice to meet a fan, “And I’m sure you will be. But for now you need to go. I’ll tell you what though, give me twenty minutes to get cleaned up and I’ll take you for a cup of coffee or something.”
She let out a high pitched squeal and hugged him. Brandon awkwardly patted her on the back and then shooed her away. Thirty minutes later the pair were sitting across from one another in a small diner, each sipping coffee. Her with unbridled joy, Brandon with awkward nervousness because the young woman was still dressed in her original outfit. It was one that left little to the imagination.
“So what’s with the outfit,” he asked between sips.
“It’s my wrestling costume,” she announced proudly, “Do you like it,” she asked expectantly.
“It looks like you’re missing about half of it,” he said, meeting her eyes, “A good costume isn’t about showing off everything, it’s more important to be able move freely and unrestricted.”
Her eyes became big and doughy, “See this is why I knew you’d be perfect. We’ve only just met and you’re already giving me great advice.”
“Anything to help a fan, how old are you anyway?” Brandon asked.
“I’ve been watching you for like ten years, you’ve always been my favorite,” Melissa said without missing a beat.
“I appreciate that, but you dodged the question. How old are you, Melissa?” Brandon asked, a sinking feeling taking hold in his gut.
“Seventeen,” she squeaked.
Brandon choked on his coffee. He’d gotten dirty looks from some of the patrons when they’d walked in but if they found out she was a minor they’d be calling the cops and it wouldn’t be long before a well-dressed man was inviting him to take a seat over there.
“Seventeen, are you trying to get me arrested,” he hissed.
“No,” she said quietly. She said something afterwards but it was too quiet for Brandon to hear.
“Then what were you trying to do?” He asked.
He still couldn’t hear her response.
“You either tell me or we’re done here,” he threatened.
She met his eye. The bashful shyness was gone, replaced with a hard steely look, “I want you train me.”
