Post by The DVC on Apr 15, 2018 22:54:57 GMT -5
The floorboards creaked beneath the leather boots of the silent man as he entered the silent house, a silent sigh trying to escape his unwavering lips. His trench coat sliding off one arm, then down the other, before finding its place on the stand by the white painted door. The room was dark as the glow of the moon filtered through the window on the wall, giving the room an almost haunting look. His eyes averted to the window, staring outwards to the star-riddled sky as he stepped towards it. He paid mind to the cat lying on the couch, greeting its master with a soft meow. He continued to the window, staring upwards to the sky on the other side.
Another sigh wishing to come forth in a soft manner, almost drifting gently from his lips to caress the glass window. The sound of footsteps from the hall sounded, yet the man continued to stare forth into the distance in a trance-like manner. The footsteps were gentle--almost light, as the sound continued to grow closer. The man turned slowly, as the child slowly approached him with a smile. He could not help smiling back, as he crouched low and picked the young child up into his arms. No words were needed at the moment, as the two now stared out the window together. The child hugged the man's neck after a moment, a smile on his face.
"Hey daddy..." he whispered, as the father smiled as well and softly tousled the small one's hair. A soft giggle emanating from the child's lips, as the father continued to smile proudly down at his ever-growing son. Now six years old, ten years from now he will be in high school. Twenty years he may be living his dream, God...how time could move so fast.
"Hey kiddo." Dominic Connolly spoke softly back, his son Christian looking up at him with wide eyes. The two looked out at the sky through the window together once again, as Christian sighed softly to himself. He held himself closer to his father for comfort, a slight shiver running through him from the temperature in the room.
"Whatcha' lookin' at, daddy?" he said once more, now looking at the sky, "Another constipation?"
Christian's father laughed, shaking his head and smiling broadly. "Constellation," he would tell his son, "You mean constellation--and no...I'm looking at the moon."
"Ooooh..." the child said with eyes filled with wonder as he looked as well. The man in the moon smiled back at him, his fluorescent glow dancing off the child's eyes. Twinkling like the stars above, Christian looked on in wonder at the pallet of light before him, the many stars which shone brightly throughout the sky.
"Why are you looking at the moon, daddy?" he asked curiously, tilting his head in wonder. His father looked down on him with a smile, before turning back towards the moon. There was a brief moment where both remained silent as the cat purred from the couch, its eyes closed in contentment. Christian fidgeted uncomfortably, the silence slightly bothering him. Had he asked the wrong question? Had he said something wrong...?
His father's answer confirmed that nothing was wrong, however, and allowed Christian's mind to be at ease. "Just...thinking, son. One day you might be walking up there, maybe even living up there at the rate we're going. It's just...it's hard to believe how fast things are going."
"Living on the moon?!" Christian giggled, looking to his father in amusement. It was a moment for Christian where his father was acting silly, but he would play along. "Do you think they'd have cartoons on the moon?"
Yet Christian's father was quite serious, and though he knew the child would not see this he still felt the need to express himself.
"Son...one day you'll be the type of person they'd make those cartoons after." his father said, as Christian quieted and smiled broadly, looking up to his father. He opened his mouth to say something, but his father had not finished--and Christian knew not to interrupt someone while they were talking. "You might become a hero one day kiddo, you might save the world." his father continued, as Christian's mouth closed.
Christian's smile could only grow, as his father tousled his hair once again. The cat meowed as if in agreement, before lazily stretching herself out across the couch. 'Ugh, I hope it's not shedding too much' Dominic thought to himself, though his thoughts would soon be interrupted by his son's voice.
"Daddy? Do you really think I could?" he asked with eyes of innocence, his voice a sweet song to the world that could not hear him. Not yet, at least, but Christian's father knew that one day his son could become something big. Someone important to the world; be it a savior, entertainer, authority figure or otherwise...his son could do it. He knew he could.
"Yes son...I do. I really think you can." Dominic whispered, the two looking out to the moon once again. Christian was quiet, ideas and visions of him saving the world dancing throughout his mind. He could see himself as a knight in shining armor; and, though quite an embarrassing revelation to the young child, he could also see Lameika Scott as his damsel in distress.
'What can I tell him? What can I keep telling him to motivate him forward? Somehow, someway...my son needs to remember always to do his best and never get lazy...it took the chance of a lifetime away from my brother--I'd hate to have to see it happen to him. Though I hate to think about it, he's growing up...one day he won't be my little boy any longer. One day he'll need to know what to do, and one day I'll have to tell him. I might as well start telling him now, right...?' Dominic thought to himself, his eyes briefly closing as he attempted to conjure up the right words to use.
"Son..." he said softly, his eyes opening as he looked back down at Christian, gently crouching down and setting Christian on the carpet floor of the house. Christian's feet planted firmly to the ground, he turned to look up at his father. "I have something to tell you, something I don't want you ever to forget."
Christian nodded curiously, his attention now firmly focused on the man that he admired. His father was his hero, the man he wanted to grow up to be. The wrestlers on television may be the people he aspired to become, but his father... his father was the best of them all.
"Listen...whatever you become, I'll always be proud of you son. And...well, whatever you do try to be I want you to remember this; never let yourself fall short...always shoot for the highest point you can." Dominic spoke, before motioning to the moon. Christian's eyes turned from his father to the moon, staring up at it as his father continued. "You might not be able to touch the moon, but if you aim for it...you might just reach the stars."
Though not quite the same phrase that Dominic had heard so many times in the past, he knew that it was good enough for his son. Christian's eyelids fell, the glow of the moon still to be seen beneath his lids--as if it had been burnt into his eyes. He re-opened them, turning towards his father and smiling broadly.
"Okay daddy...I will. And you know what? Maybe one day I will walk on the moon." Christian said proudly, crossing his arms and nodding his head firmly and surely. His father chuckled softly, a large smile on his face a well. The two remained silent, staring out at the sky.
As with most children, however, Christian needed to be in bed at a certain time. Shortly after their conversation, his father led Christian to his bedroom, tucking him in and kissing his son goodnight. However Christian simply was not tired yet, as he thought to himself on ways to make his father truly proud. Dominic headed for his own room, ready to sleep himself, but Christian was still much too awake to rest for the upcoming day.
One way or another, Christian knew that he would make his father proud one day. He would become a wrestler; he would beat up all the 'bad men', and he would win the world title. So that when the day came that he held that title in the air, all the people cheering for him as he became the hero his father believed he would become one day...he would make him proud. That title was not just for him--that title was for his daddy.
'And one day I'll do it, daddy...' young Christian thought, his eyes twinkling in excitement, 'One day I'll win it all.'
”And you’re back.” Christian’s eyes open to the dim-lighting of the room. He’s lying on an uncomfortable-looking couch and a gawky-looking man peers over the thick top rim of his glasses at him. His hair is neatly combed-over in a failed attempt to disguise the bald patch beginning to dominate the top his head. ”Was that alright?”
”That’s all hypnosis is?” Christian cocks his eyebrow as if he was expecting more. Like maybe a seizure to add some suspense. Or some leprechauns for comic relief.
”That’s all it is.”
”It just felt like I was dreaming.”
”That’s the general idea.” The man snorts a little laugh.
”So did you get everything that you needed?” The man smiles wryly. He’s clearly amused by Christian’s statement.
”What exactly did you think I was after?”
”Shrink stuff. You know, like an insight into the inner-workings of my mind.” I guess that means this man is a psychiatrist. That would explain the couch Christian’s on.
”It’s amazing that after three months of these little sessions, you’re still very cynical about it all.”
”What can I say? Hating is in my blood. I guess the fact that I still feel depressed as fuck doesn’t really bode well for my confidence in ya either Doc. No offense.”
”None taken. I’m just thankful that you’re still coming.”
”Is that an invitation to stop?” And there it is… the image that has sold merchandise around the entire world… the gleaming teeth of Christian Connolly, shining out of his smile like a star in the night sky. It’s beautiful… just beautiful.
”I’d advise against it. This hypnosis test seems to have potential.”
”Yeah, she would kill me anyway.”
”You mean Alexis?” Ah yes, the incomparable Alexis Banks, Christian’s wife-to-be back in Miami, Florida. The only woman he's been able to love since the passing of his first love, Lameika Scott. That’s huge for a notorious failure with women.
”Is there anybody else?” Christian inquisitively asks, wondering what the hell he could’ve said in his hypnotized state.
”Not that I know of,” the doctor simply replies.
”Then yes, I mean Alexis.”
”How is she?” the shrink asks, leaning forward a little. You didn’t seem to mention her much while you were in the trance. Have you been trying not to think about her while you wrap everything up?”
”Doc, I think about her every moment of every day. It kills me to be away from her for any length of time.”
”Then why didn’t she come with you?”
”We’ve been through this before, this is something I just need to face on my own.”
”Alright, we’ll leave that topic. How about tomorrow, you didn’t seem to mention that much either.” The man’s gaze makes Christian feel uneasy. Or perhaps it’s the thought of what he faces tomorrow that’s causing him tension. Maybe it’s a mix of both. Either way, Christian takes his time to reply.
”Now that…” He pauses as he swallows quite loudly. Christian is staring at the bland ceiling of the room, avoiding the eye contact of the psychiatrist. ”…That I have been trying not to think about it.”
”And why is that?” Christian swings his legs over the side of the couch until they find the ground, He leans forward over his lap, resting his elbows on his knees as he brings himself to look straight at this man who is prying into his life.
”Tomorrow I bury one of my best friends. The one person I could go to with any problem, whether it concerned him or not, and he would be able to help me out. The one person who knew me almost as well as my mother, and yet now he's gone. It's utter bullshit.”
”God tends to want the best people closer to him. How can you be angry with that?”
”I know my mom would kill me for saying this but the concept that there is an almighty being who loves us all yet allows 30,000 children to die daily from malnutrition is just laughable. Those children haven’t had time to develop completely. Give them another ten years and they could be an entirely different person. I don’t believe there is a God. I don’t believe there is a devil. What I believe is that people need something to blame, because they don’t want to face the possibility of their life sucking so much because they fucked up, or because their parents or grandparents fucked up. We control our own fate. We live our own lives. And nobody else can help us save for ourselves.”
”Is that what you really believe?”
”I said it didn’t I?” Christian’s tone is quite aggressive, but the doctor’s reply is quite calm.
”Have you talked to Jalen much?” Jalen is Christian's seventeen year-old son who is a Freshman at Duke University.
”A little. I haven't really wanted to bother him much. I know how Freshman year can be. Just letting him have his space, so he can get himself settled.”
”Is everything getting better between you two?”
"I guess. We haven't talked about it much. He went through alot during & after my scandal. He dealt with kids teasing & bullying him, getting into alot of fights. He was... how would you feel if the one person you considered a hero was shown to be anything but that? I've apologized all that I can, but.. it's best we leave it the past and just try to move forward."
"How about wrestling"
"It's going the best it has in a while. I'm a champion again, got a marquee match at Wrestle Wars. People are starting to get behind me again. It's feeling good."
"It sounds like wrestling gives you the balance that you need in life. The ability to push everything to the side for some time in your day. If controlled correctly, you could use it to stop dwelling on all the negative things and go home to the positive things."
”You’ll have to forgive me, but possibilities aren’t enough for me anymore.”
”Do you want me to give you my personal opinion?”
”Isn’t that what you’re being paid to do?” This causes a chuckle in the doctor.
”No. I’m paid to give a professional opinion.”
”What’s the difference?”
”Professionally, I’m supposed to give you ideas. I’m supposed to find out what you want, and help you get there, but it’s you who is supposed to do all the thinking, I just need to ask the right questions.”
”And personally?”
”Personally…” He smiles warmly. …I think sometimes all we have are possibilities, and it’s up to us to make those possibilities come to fruition. I think we’re done today. Call me after your match Monday night.”
Without saying anything else, Christian nods and rises up out of the couch. He shakes the psychiatrist’s hand before exiting the room. Passing through the lobby, he doesn’t even notice the increased temperature and general stuffiness in comparison to the air-conditioned office, with the name Dr. Russell Teagle on the plaque. Shoving his hands into the pockets, he once again steps out onto the streets of New York. Still without thinking, he climbs into the back of a nearby black limousine. It’s not a stretch limo, as the situation doesn’t call for that level of money-flaunting, but when riding the streets of this town you need to ride in style. I guess a case could be argued that the tinted windows also offer some sort of protection from other people. Christian can’t concentrate on anything though, as the Dr. Teagle’s words are circling in his head.
”Where to Mr. Connolly?” asks the driver sitting in the front seat
”Are all my things in the trunk?” A question answered with another question. Super.
”Yes sir. All except for your laptop computer which is still in the back there where you had it last.” Christian spies the small briefcase-like computer on a seat in front of him.
”Thank you, just take me to the airport. I’m done here.”
”Of course sir.”
The engine of the limo starts up and the vehicle pulls out into the flow of traffic.
* * * * * * *
The shadows bounce around the canvas that Christian Connolly’s face provides them. Light flickering in and out of the shutters that move as the wind blows through the open window behind them. Christian sits in a wooden chair in the middle of an almost bare room, the camera focusing upon his face. As the light dances around him, he speaks.
"Wrestle Wars.
That night. That event. It's always been memorable for me, to say the least. I've beaten legends on that night.. beaten champions.. hell, I was almost put out the sport at that event. It's the night that everyone seems to bring there 'A' game. But for me, it's just another night in the office in that respect.
This year, it's a little different. I'm actually walking in as a champion. I'm walking in as the Intercontinental champion. But, that is gonna be seriously put to the test as standing across the ring from me will be Chris Dorling.
Now Dorling, like I've said before, I have watched your ascent here in the WGWF and it's been great to watch. When I see you in the ring, I see a lot of similarities to myself. Your determination is incredible & I know you're gonna bring the fight to me.
But I hope you realize that I'm not like anyone else you've faced thus far. Well, I'm sure you understand that, but... this ain't gonna be your night.
Sorry.
I'm not ready to let this title go. You have no.. no-fucking-idea what I've been through over the past few years. And to still be in this sport that I love and to be here on the cusp of the biggest Wrestle Wars to date, with the Intercontinental title around my waist... I'm not letting this shit go.
I've worked too hard to dig myself out of the grave I dug for myself to let you waltz in here, in your fifth match, and take this from me. I don't care who you've beaten. You beat Chris Page, good for you, so have I. You beat some midcarders, good for you, so have I. Who you haven't beaten is one of the best big match wrestlers in history. Who you haven't beaten is the Suntan Superman. And that ain't changing Monday night.
Cause as much as you may want the IC title. I need the IC title. I hear how people talk.. like I don't deserve this title. I set goals like every other wrestler and I accomplish my goals. But since people still don't like me backstage, they think I can't be champion. They think I can't accomplish my dream of holding the WGWF World title. They think I'm gonna lose to you and go back to being a tag team wrestler.
For all those people, fuck you.
Wrestle Wars, I'm coming to beat you Dorling. I've spent these last two weeks preparing and watching as much video as I can on you. Just watching your tendacies, your style, searching for weaknesses.. nothing you will do Monday will surprise me.. I'm ready for the DORBreaker & TrapDOR, I got a counter for the DORlock.
And it's crazy, I have no malice towards at you at all.. but when you're coming to take away my title, to end my dreams.. then you become Public Enemy #1. And I will do whatever it takes.
So show up Monday night, ready to steal the show.
I'm coming Monday to leave with the gold. And there's nothing you can do, to stop me."
And the camera fades to black.
Another sigh wishing to come forth in a soft manner, almost drifting gently from his lips to caress the glass window. The sound of footsteps from the hall sounded, yet the man continued to stare forth into the distance in a trance-like manner. The footsteps were gentle--almost light, as the sound continued to grow closer. The man turned slowly, as the child slowly approached him with a smile. He could not help smiling back, as he crouched low and picked the young child up into his arms. No words were needed at the moment, as the two now stared out the window together. The child hugged the man's neck after a moment, a smile on his face.
"Hey daddy..." he whispered, as the father smiled as well and softly tousled the small one's hair. A soft giggle emanating from the child's lips, as the father continued to smile proudly down at his ever-growing son. Now six years old, ten years from now he will be in high school. Twenty years he may be living his dream, God...how time could move so fast.
"Hey kiddo." Dominic Connolly spoke softly back, his son Christian looking up at him with wide eyes. The two looked out at the sky through the window together once again, as Christian sighed softly to himself. He held himself closer to his father for comfort, a slight shiver running through him from the temperature in the room.
"Whatcha' lookin' at, daddy?" he said once more, now looking at the sky, "Another constipation?"
Christian's father laughed, shaking his head and smiling broadly. "Constellation," he would tell his son, "You mean constellation--and no...I'm looking at the moon."
"Ooooh..." the child said with eyes filled with wonder as he looked as well. The man in the moon smiled back at him, his fluorescent glow dancing off the child's eyes. Twinkling like the stars above, Christian looked on in wonder at the pallet of light before him, the many stars which shone brightly throughout the sky.
"Why are you looking at the moon, daddy?" he asked curiously, tilting his head in wonder. His father looked down on him with a smile, before turning back towards the moon. There was a brief moment where both remained silent as the cat purred from the couch, its eyes closed in contentment. Christian fidgeted uncomfortably, the silence slightly bothering him. Had he asked the wrong question? Had he said something wrong...?
His father's answer confirmed that nothing was wrong, however, and allowed Christian's mind to be at ease. "Just...thinking, son. One day you might be walking up there, maybe even living up there at the rate we're going. It's just...it's hard to believe how fast things are going."
"Living on the moon?!" Christian giggled, looking to his father in amusement. It was a moment for Christian where his father was acting silly, but he would play along. "Do you think they'd have cartoons on the moon?"
Yet Christian's father was quite serious, and though he knew the child would not see this he still felt the need to express himself.
"Son...one day you'll be the type of person they'd make those cartoons after." his father said, as Christian quieted and smiled broadly, looking up to his father. He opened his mouth to say something, but his father had not finished--and Christian knew not to interrupt someone while they were talking. "You might become a hero one day kiddo, you might save the world." his father continued, as Christian's mouth closed.
Christian's smile could only grow, as his father tousled his hair once again. The cat meowed as if in agreement, before lazily stretching herself out across the couch. 'Ugh, I hope it's not shedding too much' Dominic thought to himself, though his thoughts would soon be interrupted by his son's voice.
"Daddy? Do you really think I could?" he asked with eyes of innocence, his voice a sweet song to the world that could not hear him. Not yet, at least, but Christian's father knew that one day his son could become something big. Someone important to the world; be it a savior, entertainer, authority figure or otherwise...his son could do it. He knew he could.
"Yes son...I do. I really think you can." Dominic whispered, the two looking out to the moon once again. Christian was quiet, ideas and visions of him saving the world dancing throughout his mind. He could see himself as a knight in shining armor; and, though quite an embarrassing revelation to the young child, he could also see Lameika Scott as his damsel in distress.
'What can I tell him? What can I keep telling him to motivate him forward? Somehow, someway...my son needs to remember always to do his best and never get lazy...it took the chance of a lifetime away from my brother--I'd hate to have to see it happen to him. Though I hate to think about it, he's growing up...one day he won't be my little boy any longer. One day he'll need to know what to do, and one day I'll have to tell him. I might as well start telling him now, right...?' Dominic thought to himself, his eyes briefly closing as he attempted to conjure up the right words to use.
"Son..." he said softly, his eyes opening as he looked back down at Christian, gently crouching down and setting Christian on the carpet floor of the house. Christian's feet planted firmly to the ground, he turned to look up at his father. "I have something to tell you, something I don't want you ever to forget."
Christian nodded curiously, his attention now firmly focused on the man that he admired. His father was his hero, the man he wanted to grow up to be. The wrestlers on television may be the people he aspired to become, but his father... his father was the best of them all.
"Listen...whatever you become, I'll always be proud of you son. And...well, whatever you do try to be I want you to remember this; never let yourself fall short...always shoot for the highest point you can." Dominic spoke, before motioning to the moon. Christian's eyes turned from his father to the moon, staring up at it as his father continued. "You might not be able to touch the moon, but if you aim for it...you might just reach the stars."
Though not quite the same phrase that Dominic had heard so many times in the past, he knew that it was good enough for his son. Christian's eyelids fell, the glow of the moon still to be seen beneath his lids--as if it had been burnt into his eyes. He re-opened them, turning towards his father and smiling broadly.
"Okay daddy...I will. And you know what? Maybe one day I will walk on the moon." Christian said proudly, crossing his arms and nodding his head firmly and surely. His father chuckled softly, a large smile on his face a well. The two remained silent, staring out at the sky.
As with most children, however, Christian needed to be in bed at a certain time. Shortly after their conversation, his father led Christian to his bedroom, tucking him in and kissing his son goodnight. However Christian simply was not tired yet, as he thought to himself on ways to make his father truly proud. Dominic headed for his own room, ready to sleep himself, but Christian was still much too awake to rest for the upcoming day.
One way or another, Christian knew that he would make his father proud one day. He would become a wrestler; he would beat up all the 'bad men', and he would win the world title. So that when the day came that he held that title in the air, all the people cheering for him as he became the hero his father believed he would become one day...he would make him proud. That title was not just for him--that title was for his daddy.
'And one day I'll do it, daddy...' young Christian thought, his eyes twinkling in excitement, 'One day I'll win it all.'
”And you’re back.” Christian’s eyes open to the dim-lighting of the room. He’s lying on an uncomfortable-looking couch and a gawky-looking man peers over the thick top rim of his glasses at him. His hair is neatly combed-over in a failed attempt to disguise the bald patch beginning to dominate the top his head. ”Was that alright?”
”That’s all hypnosis is?” Christian cocks his eyebrow as if he was expecting more. Like maybe a seizure to add some suspense. Or some leprechauns for comic relief.
”That’s all it is.”
”It just felt like I was dreaming.”
”That’s the general idea.” The man snorts a little laugh.
”So did you get everything that you needed?” The man smiles wryly. He’s clearly amused by Christian’s statement.
”What exactly did you think I was after?”
”Shrink stuff. You know, like an insight into the inner-workings of my mind.” I guess that means this man is a psychiatrist. That would explain the couch Christian’s on.
”It’s amazing that after three months of these little sessions, you’re still very cynical about it all.”
”What can I say? Hating is in my blood. I guess the fact that I still feel depressed as fuck doesn’t really bode well for my confidence in ya either Doc. No offense.”
”None taken. I’m just thankful that you’re still coming.”
”Is that an invitation to stop?” And there it is… the image that has sold merchandise around the entire world… the gleaming teeth of Christian Connolly, shining out of his smile like a star in the night sky. It’s beautiful… just beautiful.
”I’d advise against it. This hypnosis test seems to have potential.”
”Yeah, she would kill me anyway.”
”You mean Alexis?” Ah yes, the incomparable Alexis Banks, Christian’s wife-to-be back in Miami, Florida. The only woman he's been able to love since the passing of his first love, Lameika Scott. That’s huge for a notorious failure with women.
”Is there anybody else?” Christian inquisitively asks, wondering what the hell he could’ve said in his hypnotized state.
”Not that I know of,” the doctor simply replies.
”Then yes, I mean Alexis.”
”How is she?” the shrink asks, leaning forward a little. You didn’t seem to mention her much while you were in the trance. Have you been trying not to think about her while you wrap everything up?”
”Doc, I think about her every moment of every day. It kills me to be away from her for any length of time.”
”Then why didn’t she come with you?”
”We’ve been through this before, this is something I just need to face on my own.”
”Alright, we’ll leave that topic. How about tomorrow, you didn’t seem to mention that much either.” The man’s gaze makes Christian feel uneasy. Or perhaps it’s the thought of what he faces tomorrow that’s causing him tension. Maybe it’s a mix of both. Either way, Christian takes his time to reply.
”Now that…” He pauses as he swallows quite loudly. Christian is staring at the bland ceiling of the room, avoiding the eye contact of the psychiatrist. ”…That I have been trying not to think about it.”
”And why is that?” Christian swings his legs over the side of the couch until they find the ground, He leans forward over his lap, resting his elbows on his knees as he brings himself to look straight at this man who is prying into his life.
”Tomorrow I bury one of my best friends. The one person I could go to with any problem, whether it concerned him or not, and he would be able to help me out. The one person who knew me almost as well as my mother, and yet now he's gone. It's utter bullshit.”
”God tends to want the best people closer to him. How can you be angry with that?”
”I know my mom would kill me for saying this but the concept that there is an almighty being who loves us all yet allows 30,000 children to die daily from malnutrition is just laughable. Those children haven’t had time to develop completely. Give them another ten years and they could be an entirely different person. I don’t believe there is a God. I don’t believe there is a devil. What I believe is that people need something to blame, because they don’t want to face the possibility of their life sucking so much because they fucked up, or because their parents or grandparents fucked up. We control our own fate. We live our own lives. And nobody else can help us save for ourselves.”
”Is that what you really believe?”
”I said it didn’t I?” Christian’s tone is quite aggressive, but the doctor’s reply is quite calm.
”Have you talked to Jalen much?” Jalen is Christian's seventeen year-old son who is a Freshman at Duke University.
”A little. I haven't really wanted to bother him much. I know how Freshman year can be. Just letting him have his space, so he can get himself settled.”
”Is everything getting better between you two?”
"I guess. We haven't talked about it much. He went through alot during & after my scandal. He dealt with kids teasing & bullying him, getting into alot of fights. He was... how would you feel if the one person you considered a hero was shown to be anything but that? I've apologized all that I can, but.. it's best we leave it the past and just try to move forward."
"How about wrestling"
"It's going the best it has in a while. I'm a champion again, got a marquee match at Wrestle Wars. People are starting to get behind me again. It's feeling good."
"It sounds like wrestling gives you the balance that you need in life. The ability to push everything to the side for some time in your day. If controlled correctly, you could use it to stop dwelling on all the negative things and go home to the positive things."
”You’ll have to forgive me, but possibilities aren’t enough for me anymore.”
”Do you want me to give you my personal opinion?”
”Isn’t that what you’re being paid to do?” This causes a chuckle in the doctor.
”No. I’m paid to give a professional opinion.”
”What’s the difference?”
”Professionally, I’m supposed to give you ideas. I’m supposed to find out what you want, and help you get there, but it’s you who is supposed to do all the thinking, I just need to ask the right questions.”
”And personally?”
”Personally…” He smiles warmly. …I think sometimes all we have are possibilities, and it’s up to us to make those possibilities come to fruition. I think we’re done today. Call me after your match Monday night.”
Without saying anything else, Christian nods and rises up out of the couch. He shakes the psychiatrist’s hand before exiting the room. Passing through the lobby, he doesn’t even notice the increased temperature and general stuffiness in comparison to the air-conditioned office, with the name Dr. Russell Teagle on the plaque. Shoving his hands into the pockets, he once again steps out onto the streets of New York. Still without thinking, he climbs into the back of a nearby black limousine. It’s not a stretch limo, as the situation doesn’t call for that level of money-flaunting, but when riding the streets of this town you need to ride in style. I guess a case could be argued that the tinted windows also offer some sort of protection from other people. Christian can’t concentrate on anything though, as the Dr. Teagle’s words are circling in his head.
”Where to Mr. Connolly?” asks the driver sitting in the front seat
”Are all my things in the trunk?” A question answered with another question. Super.
”Yes sir. All except for your laptop computer which is still in the back there where you had it last.” Christian spies the small briefcase-like computer on a seat in front of him.
”Thank you, just take me to the airport. I’m done here.”
”Of course sir.”
The engine of the limo starts up and the vehicle pulls out into the flow of traffic.
* * * * * * *
The shadows bounce around the canvas that Christian Connolly’s face provides them. Light flickering in and out of the shutters that move as the wind blows through the open window behind them. Christian sits in a wooden chair in the middle of an almost bare room, the camera focusing upon his face. As the light dances around him, he speaks.
"Wrestle Wars.
That night. That event. It's always been memorable for me, to say the least. I've beaten legends on that night.. beaten champions.. hell, I was almost put out the sport at that event. It's the night that everyone seems to bring there 'A' game. But for me, it's just another night in the office in that respect.
This year, it's a little different. I'm actually walking in as a champion. I'm walking in as the Intercontinental champion. But, that is gonna be seriously put to the test as standing across the ring from me will be Chris Dorling.
Now Dorling, like I've said before, I have watched your ascent here in the WGWF and it's been great to watch. When I see you in the ring, I see a lot of similarities to myself. Your determination is incredible & I know you're gonna bring the fight to me.
But I hope you realize that I'm not like anyone else you've faced thus far. Well, I'm sure you understand that, but... this ain't gonna be your night.
Sorry.
I'm not ready to let this title go. You have no.. no-fucking-idea what I've been through over the past few years. And to still be in this sport that I love and to be here on the cusp of the biggest Wrestle Wars to date, with the Intercontinental title around my waist... I'm not letting this shit go.
I've worked too hard to dig myself out of the grave I dug for myself to let you waltz in here, in your fifth match, and take this from me. I don't care who you've beaten. You beat Chris Page, good for you, so have I. You beat some midcarders, good for you, so have I. Who you haven't beaten is one of the best big match wrestlers in history. Who you haven't beaten is the Suntan Superman. And that ain't changing Monday night.
Cause as much as you may want the IC title. I need the IC title. I hear how people talk.. like I don't deserve this title. I set goals like every other wrestler and I accomplish my goals. But since people still don't like me backstage, they think I can't be champion. They think I can't accomplish my dream of holding the WGWF World title. They think I'm gonna lose to you and go back to being a tag team wrestler.
For all those people, fuck you.
Wrestle Wars, I'm coming to beat you Dorling. I've spent these last two weeks preparing and watching as much video as I can on you. Just watching your tendacies, your style, searching for weaknesses.. nothing you will do Monday will surprise me.. I'm ready for the DORBreaker & TrapDOR, I got a counter for the DORlock.
And it's crazy, I have no malice towards at you at all.. but when you're coming to take away my title, to end my dreams.. then you become Public Enemy #1. And I will do whatever it takes.
So show up Monday night, ready to steal the show.
I'm coming Monday to leave with the gold. And there's nothing you can do, to stop me."
And the camera fades to black.