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Author Topic: Tick...Tick...Tick...(II of II vs Isaac)  (Read 251 times)

Trey

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Tick...Tick...Tick...(II of II vs Isaac)
« on: September 21, 2014, 09:32:21 PM »
The bottle tumbled over itself several times before being jettisoned from a balcony rail off the first floor.  It shattered perfectly on the ground below.  Trey leaned over the railing and shouted several profanities, followed by a series of mumbled words.  He had been standing on the balcony since the night before.  He couldn’t remember what it was that had brought him out there, but he was very angry with it.  He stood, barefoot, leaning dangerously over the railing.  When he heard the sliding glass door click open, he spun around on his heels to face the intruder.

The young cleaning lady was obviously frightened.  He wanted to tell her that there was nothing to be afraid of.  He wanted to reassure her that this was only a passing phase for him and that he would be back on his feet in no time.  He wanted to do any number of nice, human things.  The only thing, however, that immediately dawned on Trey to dow as to grab her by the arm and force her back into the hotel room.

He wasn’t angry with her.  He didn’t want to hurt the poor girl.  He was embarrassed.  He was ashamed that someone had seen him in this shape.  Sure, there were the people below that had witnessed his horrible relapse into depths of alcoholism and depression.  But none of them had witnessed it upfront.  None of them had been face to face with what Trey had let himself become in such a short period of time.  He wanted o explain himself to her, he wanted to prove that he wasn’t the monster he appeared to be.

Instead the grip on her forearm tightened.

Her eyes widened as he lead her to the lawn chair in the middle of the room.  He sat her down and began to circle the chair, still unable to make anything resembling words come out of his mouth.  He could hear everything he wanted to say tumbling over themselves in his mind.  Anything he could have said would have been better than the unnerving silence.  She sat there, waiting, wondering just exactly what it was that this man wanted from her.  She knew nothing about him, she didn’t know who he was.  She just knew that he was a long term tenant of the hotel.  She had heard rumors of his eccentric behavior.  She just didn’t assume that it would be this violent.

His pace came to a halt when he got to the front of the chair.  Crouching down to eye level, he placed both of his hands on her thighs, looking her directly in the face.  He could see her pupils constrict.  Her breath hastened.  As he looked around the room, he saw things as she must have seen them.  He could see himself in her eyes.  He could feel her fear. 

He truly was a monster to her.

Without a word, he fell backwards throwing his head up.  She quickly shot up from the chair and made her way to the door.  She looked over her shoulder to see if he had gotten up to follow her.  She was not prepared to see him lying on the floor, head in hands, sobbing loudly.  As she turned to push through the door, she could make out through his sobs…

“I’m so sorry…”

~ ~ ~


Shhhhhhhh…..

Listen, Isaac….

Can you hear it?

I can hear it off in the distance.  It’s getting closer.  It could be the clattering of teeth.  It could be the beating of a heart.  It could be any number of biological parts that we seem to be trading back and forth.  Or, most likely, it could be the ticking of the second-hand.  It could be the “tick-tock” of the Master of the Mat clock. 

It keeps ticking.  On and on and on and on it beats like a drum behind us.  It doesn’t matter what side of the fence we find ourselves on.   It drowns out the roar of the crowds.  It drones over the thumping of our entrance songs piping through the Epicenter.  It’s constant.  It doesn’t change.  It will beat in tune to ever highlight of our match at Revolution.  It will chime along with the count of the referee.  It never changes.  It never ceases.  It clicks over and over. 

Consistency.

I am a consistency that everyone can bank on.  I want you to take a look back at every match where I have done anything of any real importance.  I want you to listen to every word I said.  Really listen.  Examine my inflection, the tone of my voice.  Was my heart in any of the promotional videos I released?  Or was it in the matches themselves?  Perhaps it was both.

Am I little angry now?

How could I not be?  Does that mean that I have lost my heart?  Does it mean that I have lost my drive to succeed in this company?  I think if you truly look at all of the footage over my vast career, you will find that every time I truly touched greatness there was one constant.

I was angry.

You see, that’s the crux of everyone’s argument.  Everyone seems to believe the nosense that you spew about me just not having it in me anymore.  You think that just because I am sick and damned tired of answering to everyone else that I am somehow less of a man.  I am somehow less of a competitor because I refuse to waste my time thinking about what the people in the arena and backstage think about me.

You think that just because I am physically ill knowing that Loco Martinez is getting MY title shot at Master of the Mat that I just don’t have the heart for the business anymore?  Well let me clear some things up for you pretty quickly.  I am furious that my World title re-match has been denied me just because the fans are “really feeling Loco right now.”  I am furious that I have had to come out week in and week out and prove my place in this company while Loco Martinez has gotten to sit around and wait for Master of the Mat to show up to play. 

Never let it be said though, that I am anything less than a professional.  I know how important being Master of the Mat is.  So while I may have been a touch upset about the way that the World Title was handled, I was still happy to be a part of the most prestigious tournaments in the wrestling industry today.  For the fourth time in my career I have found myself in the Semi-finals of the tournament.  For the fourth time I have the chance to take my career to the next level.

And you say that I have no heart?

You think that I just don’t have it in me anymore?

So just because I refuse to spend anymore of my precious time left kissing babies and pandering to a bunch of fools that left me hanging out to dry because I wasn’t what was hot anymore that I just don’t have the drive to do what has to be done.  How is that?  How is it that my greatest strength is something that is now a non-factor?  If you define heart and determination as slapping a few greasy hands on your way to the ring, you can fucking have it.  I don’t need it anymore.

You think that the fans cheering got me that title?  You think that the fans were there when I was picking my broken body up off the mat after so many Laws of Survival matches?  You think the fans where there for me when Maya took home the gold?  Where the hell where they?  Were they in the training room all hours of the night with me?  Did they sacrifice most of their life in the pursuit of a career in the SHOOT Project?

If I lost my heart, Isaac, it’s only because I got back my head.   You’re right.  I won’t listen to you.  I don’t need to.  At the end of the day, do you know what your problem was?  It had nothing to do with the “empty, evil road you were traveling.”  It had nothing to do with the bad things you did to people.  The reason you never really could quite make it to the next level was simple.

You just weren’t good enough, Isaac.  You still aren’t. 

I didn’t win matches because the people gave me a second wind.  I won because I am the best.  I won that title because I was the best in the company.  I’ve made it this far in the tournament because I am just that good.  I wasn’t elevated by some mystical force.  I elevated myself.  Every match I have ever been in, I have been out there all on my own.  Every time it looked like I was down for the count and I pulled myself back up to fight?  That was all me.

I reached down inside of myself and I found the will to keep on going.  It wasn’t because I loved the fans.  It was because I love the business.  It was because I respect the company.  I managed to dig down deep within myself and pull out the victory because in the end, I was always in the right.  Every time I stepped in that ring, I was always the one that was standing on the right side of the fence.

At Revolution, I know that you want me to believe that that dichotomy has changed.  You want to stand behind the cheer of your newfound “fans” and put down the fallen Wayward Son for the three count.  You’ll stand, raise your hands, and soak in all of that glory.  You want me to believe that when push comes to shove and I reach for that little bit extra that it just won’t be there.  I see through the bullshit, Isaac.  I never lost the high ground here.  You’ve just been grasping at every straw you can to come to level with me.  At Revolution, you will be trying to knock the rightful number one contender to the World Heavyweight Championship out of the Master of the Mat tournament.  I am undefeated since losing the title at Elite.  I have faced every challenge that has come my way, and I have made every last one of those steps on my own.

In an ideal world, I wouldn’t have anything to lose at Revolution.  I shouldn’t need Master of the Mat to stake my claim for that belt.  Instead, I have the deck stacked against me.  Instead, I have to fight my way to the top again to earn my second claim to the title.  That’s the rub.  A victory at Master of the Mat simply adds you into the already cramped picture.  A win for me?  Well that just gives me two number one claims. 

I cannot afford to lose that, Isaac.

I cannot afford to stake my claim as the undisputed number one contender.  I certainly cannot afford to lose that to you.  I deserve better.  The title deserves better than you.  Master of the Mat deserves better than you.  The entire sport of wrestling deserves better than you.  I’ve made my career beating monsters.  I made my name defeating some of the greatest talents this sport has ever known.  Are you so conceited to think that your name even barely scratches the surface?

Whether or not you feel like admitting it to yourself is irrelevant to me.  The actual degree of your guilt is also irrelevant to me.  What is important is that you had a hand in the beast that made me.  However small of a role you played, you were there.  You were there when I first started my rise to the top.  You were there when I started over again.  It very well could not have been you, Isaac, but it was men like you.  Don’t see that as a bad thing though.  Just know that you were a party to the creation of the man that ripped through the Master of the Mat tournament with a ferocity that you had never seen. 

The clock will continue to click all the way up to Master of the Mat. 

Right now we both hear it.  We hear it in our sleep.  We hear it when we shower.  That clock will tick unrelenting all the way up to the final bell at the Master of the Mat finals.  This week, one of us will finally be free of the incessant click-clack of that ticking.  I’m starting to embrace it.  I’m not ready for the silence.  You want my heart? 

Fine.

I just want that “Tick…tick…tick…tick…”

Keep listening Isaac.

This time is mine.