Post by Holden Orson on Feb 6, 2016 23:53:29 GMT -5
He was never a father.
He was never a son.
With no childhood to speak of, the deceased leaves no one behind to mourn him. He was the manifestation of another mans lifelong frustration of his own identity. Mr. Holden Orson emerged into existence with nothing more but a passion for better time and a profession inherited by his predecessor.
Mr. Orson did not inherit the family and friends of his predecessor. No more than a casual alliance with Ichabod. A strictly professional relationship with his manager Waldo. A ruined relationship with his godson Larry.
The man was forced to live through the faults and shortcomings of his predecessor while dealing with the empty holes in his own soul. No one on this earth considered this man a friend. No one on this earth really cared if he lived or died. He had nothing or no one to truly live for.
In fact, most wished that he'd die and his predecessor would return. They never realized that that man had truly died well before Holden emerged. Without the eccentric hipster know as Holden Orson, the vessel of Martin Graber would not have existed of nearly as long as it did.
Holden was under appreciated and overlooked in his time. The manifestation of Mainstreamer continued a frustrated man's legacy. Instead of searching to fill the gaps in his life, he maintained Martin Graber's work ethic and professional acumen.
But, alas, this man dies alone. Unloved. Unrespected. Uncared for.
Will we miss him?
Holden Orson leans back and watches the cloud of vapor bellow from his open mouth. He sits alone in middle of his hotel room in T he Big Easy. The city has surrounded him with the best Jazz music in the world and some of the best places to eat in the southern United States. Yet, Holden finds himself frozen to the chair in the middle of this hotel room purchased for him by the UGWC. A fruit flavored mist settles around the room and the vapor clears way to expose the ceiling. The complexities of life can be seen in any ceiling in any room in the world.
Perpetually looking for his place in life, Holden recently took on a frequent radio talk show. Knowing nothing else but professional wrestling, Holden made that the frequent topic of discussion for his shows. He managed to convince his manager to begrudgingly join him as a frequent co-host. He once got his legal cousin to join the show once as well. Besides that, he's had less guests than Dave Rydell's painful podcast with even less requests to be on.
Before The Mainstreamer returned in 2014, Waldo was a fun-loving friend and Larry was even with him. The Mainstreamer's quest for his former glory had cost him his relationship with Larry and this seems to have carried over to Holden. Waldo stuck around, but it was a contractile obligation. With every Synergy and every event, Holden can sense more and more resentment from his manager.
The background noise that is now Martin Graber remembers the goofball times and jokes told with Waldo. Waldo would get in the ring and train with Martin. Waldo generally just shows up to fulfill his obligations with Holden.
Klaus vonKnorre had become a good friend and good partner to The Mainstreamer. Now, Klaus simply uses Holden Orson as a stepping stone to a major event.
Alan Wallace was a lifetime, well respected rival of The Mainstreamer. Alan Wallace now looks at Holden Orson as just some undercard nobody.
Holden lets another cloud of vapor rise to the ceiling. The door starts to open, and Holden quickly rises from his seat. Waldo walks in wearing a New Orleans Pelicans shirt. Desperate for a personal connection, Holden reaches out the only way he knows how.
“There's a sports team called the Pelicans?”
Waldo looks mildly frustrated, but politely responds. “Yes, it's a local basketball team here in New Orleans.”
“Did you go to a match?” Holden asks.
“No, they're in Cleveland tonight. I watched it at a sport bar with some guys from the locker room.” Waldo responds.
“Oh.” The sting of realizing he wasn't invited hits Holden's stomach. “Scoff. A sports bar. I bet all the idiots on the roster wanted to go.”
“Just one or two. They didn't have any imported beer or gluten free, vegan friendly chicken wings. You wouldn't have liked it.”
The chance to discuss the hole in his heart would have made Holden watch the super bowl. “It's sounds dreadful.” He lies.
“Did you want to do any training before your title match?” Waldo asks, wanting to speak about business.
Making sure Killian King once again couldn't defend a title that he won in underwhelming fashion was the best thing going in Holden Orson's life. “I should probably go for a run. Killian isn't as much of a lumbering oof as the rest of this roster, so I want to make sure I don't run out of gas.”
Waldo sits on the far bed and digs a magazine out of his luggage. “Well have fun, boss.”
Waldo isn't coming with him. “Scoff.”
Holden exits the room and stands at the door.
No one is going to care about you like that. Stop hoping for it.
Holden looks down at his gray, 'deep v' v-neck tee shirt. He's managed to work up enough of a sweat to leaves a sizeable sweat stain even is this type of shirt. He looks down at the treadmill and sees that he just went past the 10 miles he wanted to run. He reaches down and slows to a stop before snatching up a water bottle and stepping off. Late Saturday evenings aren't typically the busiest times for a gym. Holden drapes a towel over his neck and starts walking around the gym to cool off.
Besides a pair of muscle heads on the free weights and the bored employee at the reception desk, Holden is alone in the gym. Holden stops at one of the full length mirrors and begins to wonder what his opponent is doing to prepare for the match.
Killian King made it a point to tell him he wasn't a good guy.
Holden Orson made it a point to tell him he wasn't a good wrestler, either.
It's a bold thing to say to a man who managed to hold every title the UGWC has in the course of a calendar year. But, Killian King rode the momentum of the Syndicate's success to only show up for matches that benefited him. Killian managed to take the short cuts he needed to leap to the front of the UGWC and be the World Champion for about a week. He then took that accolade and jammed himself in a “what the hell else do we do with them” match for the Cross-Hemisphere title. It didn't seem like the work of a good wrestler. It just looked like someone who did well short cutting the system.
When Holden shared his feelings, Killian quickly showed his fangs, but it wasn't long until Killain lost his steam. Unable to maintain a month long program, Killain found himself too weak and without the durability to take on the hipster he so casually mocked at the beginning of the year.
Holden smiles into the mirror. People like a champion. Maybe this hole could be filled after all.
“Killian, luckily enough for you, it will be over soon. I know this time around, you were forced to do your job and actually wrestle throughout the month and attempt to act as a champion. I know you tried to avoid it, put by the end of last week's Synergy, you took the pin. No champion wants to take the pin from his challenger right before he defends, but I think we all knew you wouldn't hold up for the whole month.”
“Now, I know getting pinned last week probably comes with this huge list of reasons why it didn't matter, but the fact of the matter is, you haven't been able to show one single time to me since you've won that title why you deserve to be a champion. All you've managed to do is show that DJ on an unliked radio show can easily be your downfall. You liked pointing out how The Mainstreamer lost over and over again to Vain. How inferior do you have to feel now knowing that you lost your World Title to Wallace and you're going to lose your Cross Hemisphere title to someone like me?”
“I know you, nor anyone else respects Holden Orson. I've heard everyone talk about me. Everyone thinks that I'm nothing but a frustrated Mainstreamer having an identity crisis. Even you, a soulless man, sees me as some sort of inferior man and wrestler compared to Martin. But if you think snarling your teeth at me and talking down at me is going to make me shy away from the things I've said about you. No sir, Mr. King.”
“You're nothing but a opportunistic book of excuses. If you can beat me, beat me at Infinity. If you can't take it like a man and admit that you couldn't do it. I know flight is your typical response here, but show Holden Orson and the rest of the world you have a shred of tenacity and at least show up and pretend to fight. When you lose, show the world you aren't just the worst member of the former Syndicate, and grow from the loss.”
'When Infinity happens, the rest of the world is going to see the Killian King that I saw at Horizons. And if you want a future after that, you're outlook will need to change. Otherwise you can go live in obscurity with Eden Morgan, Seito Risa, Ezekiel Pax, and half a million other losers who couldn't handle not being the best for every moment of their time in UGWC..”
“Just please realize Killain, this isn't just about the Cross Hemisphere title. This is a personal attack at you. I don't like you. Not as a person, not as a fellow entertainment professional, and not as a champion. When I beat you again, I hope it hurts. Then maybe I can find myself in the ring with someone I have a shred of respect for. That man will never be you Killian King.”
He was never a son.
With no childhood to speak of, the deceased leaves no one behind to mourn him. He was the manifestation of another mans lifelong frustration of his own identity. Mr. Holden Orson emerged into existence with nothing more but a passion for better time and a profession inherited by his predecessor.
Mr. Orson did not inherit the family and friends of his predecessor. No more than a casual alliance with Ichabod. A strictly professional relationship with his manager Waldo. A ruined relationship with his godson Larry.
The man was forced to live through the faults and shortcomings of his predecessor while dealing with the empty holes in his own soul. No one on this earth considered this man a friend. No one on this earth really cared if he lived or died. He had nothing or no one to truly live for.
In fact, most wished that he'd die and his predecessor would return. They never realized that that man had truly died well before Holden emerged. Without the eccentric hipster know as Holden Orson, the vessel of Martin Graber would not have existed of nearly as long as it did.
Holden was under appreciated and overlooked in his time. The manifestation of Mainstreamer continued a frustrated man's legacy. Instead of searching to fill the gaps in his life, he maintained Martin Graber's work ethic and professional acumen.
But, alas, this man dies alone. Unloved. Unrespected. Uncared for.
Will we miss him?
Holden Orson leans back and watches the cloud of vapor bellow from his open mouth. He sits alone in middle of his hotel room in T he Big Easy. The city has surrounded him with the best Jazz music in the world and some of the best places to eat in the southern United States. Yet, Holden finds himself frozen to the chair in the middle of this hotel room purchased for him by the UGWC. A fruit flavored mist settles around the room and the vapor clears way to expose the ceiling. The complexities of life can be seen in any ceiling in any room in the world.
Perpetually looking for his place in life, Holden recently took on a frequent radio talk show. Knowing nothing else but professional wrestling, Holden made that the frequent topic of discussion for his shows. He managed to convince his manager to begrudgingly join him as a frequent co-host. He once got his legal cousin to join the show once as well. Besides that, he's had less guests than Dave Rydell's painful podcast with even less requests to be on.
Before The Mainstreamer returned in 2014, Waldo was a fun-loving friend and Larry was even with him. The Mainstreamer's quest for his former glory had cost him his relationship with Larry and this seems to have carried over to Holden. Waldo stuck around, but it was a contractile obligation. With every Synergy and every event, Holden can sense more and more resentment from his manager.
The background noise that is now Martin Graber remembers the goofball times and jokes told with Waldo. Waldo would get in the ring and train with Martin. Waldo generally just shows up to fulfill his obligations with Holden.
Klaus vonKnorre had become a good friend and good partner to The Mainstreamer. Now, Klaus simply uses Holden Orson as a stepping stone to a major event.
Alan Wallace was a lifetime, well respected rival of The Mainstreamer. Alan Wallace now looks at Holden Orson as just some undercard nobody.
Holden lets another cloud of vapor rise to the ceiling. The door starts to open, and Holden quickly rises from his seat. Waldo walks in wearing a New Orleans Pelicans shirt. Desperate for a personal connection, Holden reaches out the only way he knows how.
“There's a sports team called the Pelicans?”
Waldo looks mildly frustrated, but politely responds. “Yes, it's a local basketball team here in New Orleans.”
“Did you go to a match?” Holden asks.
“No, they're in Cleveland tonight. I watched it at a sport bar with some guys from the locker room.” Waldo responds.
“Oh.” The sting of realizing he wasn't invited hits Holden's stomach. “Scoff. A sports bar. I bet all the idiots on the roster wanted to go.”
“Just one or two. They didn't have any imported beer or gluten free, vegan friendly chicken wings. You wouldn't have liked it.”
The chance to discuss the hole in his heart would have made Holden watch the super bowl. “It's sounds dreadful.” He lies.
“Did you want to do any training before your title match?” Waldo asks, wanting to speak about business.
Making sure Killian King once again couldn't defend a title that he won in underwhelming fashion was the best thing going in Holden Orson's life. “I should probably go for a run. Killian isn't as much of a lumbering oof as the rest of this roster, so I want to make sure I don't run out of gas.”
Waldo sits on the far bed and digs a magazine out of his luggage. “Well have fun, boss.”
Waldo isn't coming with him. “Scoff.”
Holden exits the room and stands at the door.
No one is going to care about you like that. Stop hoping for it.
Holden looks down at his gray, 'deep v' v-neck tee shirt. He's managed to work up enough of a sweat to leaves a sizeable sweat stain even is this type of shirt. He looks down at the treadmill and sees that he just went past the 10 miles he wanted to run. He reaches down and slows to a stop before snatching up a water bottle and stepping off. Late Saturday evenings aren't typically the busiest times for a gym. Holden drapes a towel over his neck and starts walking around the gym to cool off.
Besides a pair of muscle heads on the free weights and the bored employee at the reception desk, Holden is alone in the gym. Holden stops at one of the full length mirrors and begins to wonder what his opponent is doing to prepare for the match.
Killian King made it a point to tell him he wasn't a good guy.
Holden Orson made it a point to tell him he wasn't a good wrestler, either.
It's a bold thing to say to a man who managed to hold every title the UGWC has in the course of a calendar year. But, Killian King rode the momentum of the Syndicate's success to only show up for matches that benefited him. Killian managed to take the short cuts he needed to leap to the front of the UGWC and be the World Champion for about a week. He then took that accolade and jammed himself in a “what the hell else do we do with them” match for the Cross-Hemisphere title. It didn't seem like the work of a good wrestler. It just looked like someone who did well short cutting the system.
When Holden shared his feelings, Killian quickly showed his fangs, but it wasn't long until Killain lost his steam. Unable to maintain a month long program, Killain found himself too weak and without the durability to take on the hipster he so casually mocked at the beginning of the year.
Holden smiles into the mirror. People like a champion. Maybe this hole could be filled after all.
“Killian, luckily enough for you, it will be over soon. I know this time around, you were forced to do your job and actually wrestle throughout the month and attempt to act as a champion. I know you tried to avoid it, put by the end of last week's Synergy, you took the pin. No champion wants to take the pin from his challenger right before he defends, but I think we all knew you wouldn't hold up for the whole month.”
“Now, I know getting pinned last week probably comes with this huge list of reasons why it didn't matter, but the fact of the matter is, you haven't been able to show one single time to me since you've won that title why you deserve to be a champion. All you've managed to do is show that DJ on an unliked radio show can easily be your downfall. You liked pointing out how The Mainstreamer lost over and over again to Vain. How inferior do you have to feel now knowing that you lost your World Title to Wallace and you're going to lose your Cross Hemisphere title to someone like me?”
“I know you, nor anyone else respects Holden Orson. I've heard everyone talk about me. Everyone thinks that I'm nothing but a frustrated Mainstreamer having an identity crisis. Even you, a soulless man, sees me as some sort of inferior man and wrestler compared to Martin. But if you think snarling your teeth at me and talking down at me is going to make me shy away from the things I've said about you. No sir, Mr. King.”
“You're nothing but a opportunistic book of excuses. If you can beat me, beat me at Infinity. If you can't take it like a man and admit that you couldn't do it. I know flight is your typical response here, but show Holden Orson and the rest of the world you have a shred of tenacity and at least show up and pretend to fight. When you lose, show the world you aren't just the worst member of the former Syndicate, and grow from the loss.”
'When Infinity happens, the rest of the world is going to see the Killian King that I saw at Horizons. And if you want a future after that, you're outlook will need to change. Otherwise you can go live in obscurity with Eden Morgan, Seito Risa, Ezekiel Pax, and half a million other losers who couldn't handle not being the best for every moment of their time in UGWC..”
“Just please realize Killain, this isn't just about the Cross Hemisphere title. This is a personal attack at you. I don't like you. Not as a person, not as a fellow entertainment professional, and not as a champion. When I beat you again, I hope it hurts. Then maybe I can find myself in the ring with someone I have a shred of respect for. That man will never be you Killian King.”
