Post by Jet Somers on Jun 26, 2014 21:25:20 GMT -5
I sit alone in the dark with my demons.
The nearness and warmth of my championship, and what it means to those who observe it wrapped around me, offer no comfort. Its gold doesn't glitter in this darkness.
There’s never been a bigger challenge.
Alex Kiseragi. Zane Scott. Cypress Morgan.
In all these long years, I’ve never faced anyone with his tenacity.
Eden Morgan. Dirge. Phrixus Deimos.
His ability to simply… persevere… is uncanny.
Moss Edwards. Ezekiel Pax.
He can be beat. But can he be beaten?
Travis Roberts.
I’m not proud of what I’ve become. If that’s not clear at this point, they’re not paying attention.
My history here has been all over the place. Overthrowing regimes, training the next generation, becoming a temporary regime myself, betraying my friends and forming new, more powerful alliances… and he mirrors my achievements every step of the way, and many times beats me to the punch. I am the company.
I keep staring at the schedule for the final day of Wrestlestock, and my eyes drift to the only other scheduled event; the inaugural Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony. As much as I’ve come to obsess over defeating him, my mind is consumed by this one thought: if there’s anyone who deserves that honor more than me, it’s him.
I’d never admit that outside of my closest circle of course.
The parallels in our careers are innumerable, but one thing he seems to excel at is knowing where his path will eventually lead. In spite of all appearances to the contrary, things just seem to always work out in his favor in the end. If I am the company, he is the business, and, even if it’s by luck, he always seems to be a step ahead of me. It’s frustrating.
In contrast, I have no idea what I’m doing right now. I can’t help but imagine my fans seriously questioning my actions and decisions. I know I’m doing it constantly.
The line drawn in the sand is deeper than it’s been for any of my challengers before him. I’m fighting every instinct that’s telling me not to step over that line, and to back away if he does. I know he’s ready for me, and there’s not one single part of me that’s ready for him.
This kind of honesty isn’t like me. Everyone knows I walk in a reality of my own creation, my rose tinted glasses coloring everything so that I’m forever suited no matter the circumstances. Thank god no one is here to see me in my weakness.
But on July 6th, there’ll be no hiding. Everyone will see us both for what we are. And for the life of me, I’m not sure what that will mean for me.
I’ll never cower from anyone, there’s no doubt there. But if he makes a fool of me once again, stops me in my tracks like he always seems to do when nearly anyone is on fire, there’ll be no cowing him ever again. As if there’s any real hope of doing that now.
This is simply a notch in the belt that the company doesn’t need him to have.
Everything rides on him failing a Wrestlestock.
And I’m not even sure failure is an option for him.
With a sigh and a heavy heart, I reach and find my strap in the darkness. My hands close over its warm metallic shell, and I lift it to my face, stopping long enough to rest my forehead upon its surface.
I pull my exhausted body to a standing position, letting the gold drag my arm down to my side. Trudging toward the door, I heft it’s weight over the coat rack. My fingers trail down the scrollwork as I open the door and exit the room.
Before retiring, I make the stop I make every night.
I gently push the door open, creeping up to their cribs. Their milky skin shines in the moonlight, and I plant a feather-light kiss upon each of their foreheads. My one relief: even if I fall, I’ll still be able to find love and warmth here in my home, my one sanctuary. I finally am able to smile.
Comforted, I make my way to my own room, where Calypso snoozes noisily. I climb soundlessly into our bed, all thoughts of Jet Somers quieted for the night.