Post by Derrick Vayden on Apr 3, 2019 14:44:36 GMT -5
The scene opens on downtown Milwaukee. The sun has long set but the city was illuminated nevertheless. The bright lights from the buildings towering overhead along with the seemingly endless sets of headlights from oncoming traffic brought light to the night. There are three different bands playing three different genres all within blocks of each other, the aforementioned cars honk as impatient drivers try to traverse the busy streets. The sounds of the city brought it to life. The sidewalks, meanwhile, are just as busy as the streets. Locals making their way to various bars and restaurants dotting all around the city.
Amongst the bustling night owls, we find Derrick Vayden and his friend Lance Holt. The two were on their way back from a late gym session. Both men were still in their workout clothes, Vayden in black athletic shorts, a red tank top, and pristine white running shoes. Lance also wore black shorts, along with a black t-shirt depicting his Alma mater's logo and black running shoes. The two men were chatting about the former's upcoming match.
"So, what do you think of Hope?" Lance asked, glancing over at his friend.
"Overrated. People who hope don't get anything done. I can hope all day long but it won't get me shit unless I act on it," Vayden replied while looking down at his phone.
"What? No, I mean Lissie Hope," Holt sighed.
"Who?"
"Your opponent next week! Don't tell me you forgot."
"Nah, I didn't forget. I just don't care about who it's against."
"Well, you should. She's-"
The two ceased their conversation as they overheard a couple of men talking quite loudly while standing outside a bar.
"...an-and then he hit her like BOOM, but then she was like NOPE and hit him like SMASH, and she fuckin' won dude!" said man 1, clearly under the influence.
"Woah... that's, like, totally wicked... heheh…" man 2 said, obviously up in the clouds with the kites.
"Hey! Who are you talking about?" Derrick asked, quickly approaching the men.
"I-I *burp* dunno, man... I think it was Lacey or something?" the drunk guy said. "Alls I know is she's a awesome wrestler, and she's HOT!"
Lance shot his friend an "I told you so" look. Derrick, meanwhile, wore an expression of aloofness. He barely cared about the conversation and just wanted to go home. Lucky for him, the two other men wouldn't let Lance pry further, shooing them away before re-entering the bar. Lance just shrugged and turned to Derrick, who had already begun walking down the sidewalk.
"See what I mean? You probably shouldn't be taking her lightly," Lance said, jogging to catch up.
"It's just two guys. A drunk and a stoner, mind you. Not exactly intelligent company," Vayden shot back.
"People are talking. Isn't that worth enough to at least check her out?"
"Nope!"
Lance just sighed, shaking his head. The two men continued their walk. As they did, Vayden couldn't help but overhear people as they passed. Every once in a while he would catch the name of his opponent in their mouths. The further they got, the more he started to hear her name. By the time the two men reached Lance's home, Derrick's face was solemn, focused, deep in thought.
Derrick thought back to his childhood. The bullying started out with little things. Name calling, exclusion, simple little things that kids go through in elementary. As he progressed in school, it all got worse. Teasing turned into public humiliation, beatings became a regular occurrence, but worst of all: no matter what he would do, nobody would give Derrick the recognition he deserved. He took all the beatings, took all the hits... but what destroyed him inside was how invisible he was.
Fuck. That.
When high school began, Vayden changed everything about himself. He swapped his short, clean-cut hairstyle for long, rockstar locks. He threw out his old, uninspiring clothing and replaced it with a brand new, flashy wardrobe with only the biggest name brands. Finally, he filled out his tall, lanky frame with pure muscle. The kids who had bullied him barely recognized the "new" Derrick Vayden. When they did, every one of them quickly apologized and tried to get Derrick to forget about it.
Not happening.
Instead of accepting the apologies, Vayden got to work on getting back at every single one of them. One by one, Derrick thoroughly embarrassed everyone that bullied him be it academically or physically, earning far superior grades or quickly knocking them out in front of as many people as possible. Before too long he was the talk of the school, the center of attention, where he belonged.
Upon graduating, Vayden had developed quite an inflated ego. After making fools of everyone in his class, Derrick felt like he was at the top of the food chain, a god amongst men. However, he knew he had to find something that will keep him in the spotlight upon entering adult life.
Inspired by wrestlers like Austin Aries and Tommaso Ciampa, both representing his hometown of Milwaukee, Derrick realized that a life of pro wrestling was a life for him. So he quickly began training at Brew City Wrestling's training academy. His trainers hated and tried to prevent his pompous attitude, always bearing no results. Despite this, Vayden was head and shoulders above the rest of the class. His talent was undeniable, and so he was quickly able to debut for the promotion.
Ever since his first match, Vayden was always the talk of the town. He would get stopped on the streets by fans demanding his autograph, which he would always deny. Derrick would go from promotion to promotion collecting titles along the way. Soon enough Vayden ran out of opponents and new feds to go to. He was at the top, the best in Wisconsin. From Milwaukee to Eland, everyone in the state was talking about Derrick Vayden.
However, this wasn't enough for him. Vayden told himself he would not stop until the whole world was chanting, "Derrick! Derrick! Derrick!"
Derrick! Derrick!
Derrick!
"Derrick!" Lance said, waving his hands in Vayden's face, bringing him back to reality.
Vayden shuttered from the memories. Memories he had buried away years ago, feelings he had buried away years ago.
"Come on, let's go get shit faced," Derrick said, shaking the cobwebs out.
"You okay, man? You completely zoned out," Lance said, slightly concerned.
"Yep! Let's go hit Rock Bottom!" Vayden yelled over his shoulder as he began walking down the street.
Once again, Lance just sighed as he began to follow his friend. The two made their way to the Rock Bottom Brewery, a frequent spot for Vayden and his friends. The bar was dimly lit as bars usually are. The dull orange lights flickered occasionally, making it hard to look at. There were some people playing pool, some eating at the tables, and a lot of people sitting at the bar. Overhead, a heavy metal song played amongst the loud chatter of the patrons.
As they walked inside, the two were stopped by an apparent fan of Vayden. Derrick sighed and rolled his eyes but decided to amuse the leech for a few minutes.
"Man, I can't believe I'm getting to meet you! This is crazy!" the fan said, almost yelling.
"Yeah, I know. It's an honor," Vayden said, no emotion in his voice. Just going through the motion.
"I cannot wait for your Clash debut! You and Lissie are gonna kill it! Have you seen her match? It was crazy!" the man said, giving Vayden an excited pat on the shoulder.
There it is again. That name.
Derrick's expression went from neutral and uncaring to that of anger. He pushed past the fan and began making his way to the bar. Confused, Lance quickly followed behind. He managed to catch up to Vayden before they reached the bar.
"Dude, what is your deal?" Lance asked when he caught up.
"What? You know how I feel about talking to these bottom feeders," Vayden said, shrugging his shoulders.
"Yeah, but you seemed extra mean to that guy," Lance noted.
"Yeah, well shit happens. Barkeep! Two fine ales, please!" Vayden said, turning towards the bartender and speaking in a bad British accent. The bartender shot him a confused look, gazing at him like he just stepped off the looney bus.
"*sigh* Two Spotted Cows," Lance translated.
The bartender nodded and began preparing the men's beers. He slid the bottles down the bar, Derrick, and Lance each catching one and taking a drink.
"So, why are we here again?" Lance asked.
"Drinking takes the pain away," Derrick said sarcastically.
"What pain do you need to get away from? You're the big shot Derrick Vayden," Lance said, mockingly.
"I know who the hell I am. It was a joke," Vayden suddenly snapped.
"Damn, what's pissed you off all of a sudden?"
"Multiple reasons. My takeout was cold last night, the movie I saw the other day sucked, Brewers lost, and my cat keeps trying to eat my lizards. All of this stuff combined is pissing me off."
"Why can't you ever be open about your feelings?"
"Honesty is for pussies and drunks."
"Whatever, man."
The conversation quickly changed. The friends began comparing their workouts earlier in the night. Obviously, Vayden said he did more reps, ran more miles, and had more chicks staring at him than Lance. Whether any of that was true or not was up for debate, but Holt really didn't feel like arguing. Afterward, the two decided to take a look at Vayden's social feed, which Lance managed for him. Plenty of praise as well as hatred, same old stuff.
A new addition of the mentions, however, were fans linking Vayden to videos and stills of the previous Monday Night Clash show. Mostly of a match between Alex Kincaid taking on his opponent next week, Lissie Hope. They were all saying how exciting next week's show was going to be because of them. Vayden just rolled his eyes.
When they were through with that, Derrick and Lance went back to their normal conversation. Their topics ranged from movies and music to sports and athletics. Every once in a while, they were interrupted by pesky fans demanding photos and autographs. Nine times out of ten the fan would bring up Vayden's match at Clash, much to the chagrin of Derrick.
Each time this happened, Derrick's frustration grew another level. It was when he had to sit through a particularly annoying fan ranting on and on about how great this Hope chick is. Finally, Vayden had heard enough. He downed the last of his beer, placing the bottle on the counter with an emphatic *clang*.
"Get out of here, bud. I'm sick of your face" Vayden said, pushing the fan towards the door. "Lance get your phone. Take a video."
"Okay... why?" Lance asked, doing what his friend said.
"I got shit to say."
"Fair enough."
Lance began rolling the video on his phone. Derrick took a second to brush hair out of his face as he processed what he was about to say. After about a minute, Vayden finally spoke up.
"I don't need to introduce myself. You know who I am. So instead, I'm going to talk about the opponent in my debut match in Action Wrestling. Now, I don't like adding onto the fire... mainly because I'm the one starting them. However, I can't help but throw my two cents into the topic of Miss Hope.
"Ever since I made my wrestling debut, everyone in this great... mediocre state of Wisconsin has talked about me and me alone. Yet I've been out and about all day today and these mouth breathers will not shut up about you, Liz.
"Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not intimidated by you, not at all. In fact, it simply confirms something I already knew. However, I'll save that for a later in this little rant. Right now, I want to tell you a little story about moi. Come with me on this journey and you'll soon realize how you and I are a bit similar... yet miles apart.
"Our story begins, as it usually does, with a child, dreams bigger than the moon, brighter than the stars in the night sky. This child's dreams weren't of being a pro wrestling megastar, no. Instead, he wanted simply wanted to make everyone happy. To make everyone feel love and friendship. It's sappy as fuck but that's real life sometimes. Yes, as ridiculous as it seems, the child strove for world peace...
"BUT! Dreams don't always work out, do they? No, dreams, more often than not, die. They are crushed under the weight of reality. This child's dream was one of them. Not all at once, mind you. This poor boy was devastated over the course of many many years. He discovered that there is a lot of evil in the world. He learned that he wouldn't be able to what he set out to do. So, as the saying goes, if you can't beat 'em…
"Join them.
"Well, the poor kid didn't exactly JOIN them. No, he went to the proverbial dark side but didn't align himself with the aforementioned evil. To use another popular saying, he fought fire with fire. The boy fought against the evil that tried to destroy him, and he came out clean on the other side. He stood his ground and fought to the very end.
"Alas, the long fight left the boy a dejected and bitter shell of the bright-eyed child he once was. Now he developed an ego greater than that of Xerxes. He's become the embodiment of the very evil he fought in the first place. Now all he craves is fame, all the attention, all the stardom. Guess what? He got what he wanted. His new dream was realized..."
Vayden paused his rant to take a long gulp from his New Glarus. He let out a small, cocky chuckle as a smirk crossed his face.
"I know what you're thinking. 'Why does that stupid story matter at all?' Except maybe with a few more expletives because you think swearing every other word makes you cool. Well, this story matters because it demonstrates how you and I are alike as well as different. Allow me to explain.
"See, Miss Hope, we've both seen some shit, we've both taken some beatings. Most importantly, we've both used those beatings to rise above and make something great of ourselves. However comma, that's where we deviate. See, I stuck around to deal with my problems head-on. I planted both feet in the ground and faced it all head on. What did you do? You ran. You left for the bright lights of NOLA, leaving your demons behind. I go to sleep with my demons while you run off to a hotel, so to speak.
"I get it, though. That's in the past. We're in the present looking towards the future. So I'll get into my problems with you right now. Get your popcorn ready, there's a bit to go through.
"My first grievance isn't really towards you, but your 'fans'. They see one match of yours and suddenly you're the talk of the town. I've been entertaining these numskulls since I stepped foot in this profession and then you waltz in for five minutes and boom, that's all they need. Oh, but don't get me wrong. I really don't care that they're ogling over the flavor of the day... but you? You of all people are said flavor? Are you kidding me?
"That leads me to my second point. You think you're different? Rebellious, vulgar tomboy with tattoos and daddy issues, colored hair that makes you look like something out of a circus act. The whole 'I'm not like most girls' act. Y'know, I've walked past at least fifty of women just like you in this wretched city just in the past few hours. How else are you different? Are you obsessed with pizza & The Office and 'just want to date my dog'? Please.
"Finally, is your personality. I see through your façade like a freshly cleaned pane of glass. You put on this face of a badass in the public eye. However, whenever one of these idiots shove a picture or video of you into my face, I can see into your eyes. I see the fear and anxiety of a child who just stepped into a world she knows nothing. About.
"In conclusion, my friend, you're in over your head. I applaud you on your first win, but sunlight shines on a dog's ass sometimes. This Monday on Clash, though... the sun will be gone and your luck will run out. Hold onto your hope, because it's all people like you have to make tomorrow seem less grim."
Derrick took another gulp from his beer, finishing it off. He placed the bottle down on the counter before turning back to the camera.
"Cut it, that's a wrap," He said, sliding his thumb across his throat, his cocky smirk still present.
"Damn, that was intense," Lance said, hitting the red button on his screen, stopping the video.
Vayden took his wallet out of his gym bag, took out a handful of cash, and set it on the counter next to his empty bottle, "Post that everywhere. I'm out."
Vayden got up from his stool and began pushing his way through the patrons of the bar before Lance could even say anything. Doing as he was told, he posted the video to all of Vayden's social media pages.
Lance got up and saddled up his own tab before making his way out. He turned the corner and began his walk back to his home. What he didn't notice in the darkness was that Derrick was leaning against the wall of the bar, gazing longingly at the stars in the sky...
-FIN-
Amongst the bustling night owls, we find Derrick Vayden and his friend Lance Holt. The two were on their way back from a late gym session. Both men were still in their workout clothes, Vayden in black athletic shorts, a red tank top, and pristine white running shoes. Lance also wore black shorts, along with a black t-shirt depicting his Alma mater's logo and black running shoes. The two men were chatting about the former's upcoming match.
"So, what do you think of Hope?" Lance asked, glancing over at his friend.
"Overrated. People who hope don't get anything done. I can hope all day long but it won't get me shit unless I act on it," Vayden replied while looking down at his phone.
"What? No, I mean Lissie Hope," Holt sighed.
"Who?"
"Your opponent next week! Don't tell me you forgot."
"Nah, I didn't forget. I just don't care about who it's against."
"Well, you should. She's-"
The two ceased their conversation as they overheard a couple of men talking quite loudly while standing outside a bar.
"...an-and then he hit her like BOOM, but then she was like NOPE and hit him like SMASH, and she fuckin' won dude!" said man 1, clearly under the influence.
"Woah... that's, like, totally wicked... heheh…" man 2 said, obviously up in the clouds with the kites.
"Hey! Who are you talking about?" Derrick asked, quickly approaching the men.
"I-I *burp* dunno, man... I think it was Lacey or something?" the drunk guy said. "Alls I know is she's a awesome wrestler, and she's HOT!"
Lance shot his friend an "I told you so" look. Derrick, meanwhile, wore an expression of aloofness. He barely cared about the conversation and just wanted to go home. Lucky for him, the two other men wouldn't let Lance pry further, shooing them away before re-entering the bar. Lance just shrugged and turned to Derrick, who had already begun walking down the sidewalk.
"See what I mean? You probably shouldn't be taking her lightly," Lance said, jogging to catch up.
"It's just two guys. A drunk and a stoner, mind you. Not exactly intelligent company," Vayden shot back.
"People are talking. Isn't that worth enough to at least check her out?"
"Nope!"
Lance just sighed, shaking his head. The two men continued their walk. As they did, Vayden couldn't help but overhear people as they passed. Every once in a while he would catch the name of his opponent in their mouths. The further they got, the more he started to hear her name. By the time the two men reached Lance's home, Derrick's face was solemn, focused, deep in thought.
Derrick thought back to his childhood. The bullying started out with little things. Name calling, exclusion, simple little things that kids go through in elementary. As he progressed in school, it all got worse. Teasing turned into public humiliation, beatings became a regular occurrence, but worst of all: no matter what he would do, nobody would give Derrick the recognition he deserved. He took all the beatings, took all the hits... but what destroyed him inside was how invisible he was.
Fuck. That.
When high school began, Vayden changed everything about himself. He swapped his short, clean-cut hairstyle for long, rockstar locks. He threw out his old, uninspiring clothing and replaced it with a brand new, flashy wardrobe with only the biggest name brands. Finally, he filled out his tall, lanky frame with pure muscle. The kids who had bullied him barely recognized the "new" Derrick Vayden. When they did, every one of them quickly apologized and tried to get Derrick to forget about it.
Not happening.
Instead of accepting the apologies, Vayden got to work on getting back at every single one of them. One by one, Derrick thoroughly embarrassed everyone that bullied him be it academically or physically, earning far superior grades or quickly knocking them out in front of as many people as possible. Before too long he was the talk of the school, the center of attention, where he belonged.
Upon graduating, Vayden had developed quite an inflated ego. After making fools of everyone in his class, Derrick felt like he was at the top of the food chain, a god amongst men. However, he knew he had to find something that will keep him in the spotlight upon entering adult life.
Inspired by wrestlers like Austin Aries and Tommaso Ciampa, both representing his hometown of Milwaukee, Derrick realized that a life of pro wrestling was a life for him. So he quickly began training at Brew City Wrestling's training academy. His trainers hated and tried to prevent his pompous attitude, always bearing no results. Despite this, Vayden was head and shoulders above the rest of the class. His talent was undeniable, and so he was quickly able to debut for the promotion.
Ever since his first match, Vayden was always the talk of the town. He would get stopped on the streets by fans demanding his autograph, which he would always deny. Derrick would go from promotion to promotion collecting titles along the way. Soon enough Vayden ran out of opponents and new feds to go to. He was at the top, the best in Wisconsin. From Milwaukee to Eland, everyone in the state was talking about Derrick Vayden.
However, this wasn't enough for him. Vayden told himself he would not stop until the whole world was chanting, "Derrick! Derrick! Derrick!"
Derrick! Derrick!
Derrick!
"Derrick!" Lance said, waving his hands in Vayden's face, bringing him back to reality.
Vayden shuttered from the memories. Memories he had buried away years ago, feelings he had buried away years ago.
"Come on, let's go get shit faced," Derrick said, shaking the cobwebs out.
"You okay, man? You completely zoned out," Lance said, slightly concerned.
"Yep! Let's go hit Rock Bottom!" Vayden yelled over his shoulder as he began walking down the street.
Once again, Lance just sighed as he began to follow his friend. The two made their way to the Rock Bottom Brewery, a frequent spot for Vayden and his friends. The bar was dimly lit as bars usually are. The dull orange lights flickered occasionally, making it hard to look at. There were some people playing pool, some eating at the tables, and a lot of people sitting at the bar. Overhead, a heavy metal song played amongst the loud chatter of the patrons.
As they walked inside, the two were stopped by an apparent fan of Vayden. Derrick sighed and rolled his eyes but decided to amuse the leech for a few minutes.
"Man, I can't believe I'm getting to meet you! This is crazy!" the fan said, almost yelling.
"Yeah, I know. It's an honor," Vayden said, no emotion in his voice. Just going through the motion.
"I cannot wait for your Clash debut! You and Lissie are gonna kill it! Have you seen her match? It was crazy!" the man said, giving Vayden an excited pat on the shoulder.
There it is again. That name.
Derrick's expression went from neutral and uncaring to that of anger. He pushed past the fan and began making his way to the bar. Confused, Lance quickly followed behind. He managed to catch up to Vayden before they reached the bar.
"Dude, what is your deal?" Lance asked when he caught up.
"What? You know how I feel about talking to these bottom feeders," Vayden said, shrugging his shoulders.
"Yeah, but you seemed extra mean to that guy," Lance noted.
"Yeah, well shit happens. Barkeep! Two fine ales, please!" Vayden said, turning towards the bartender and speaking in a bad British accent. The bartender shot him a confused look, gazing at him like he just stepped off the looney bus.
"*sigh* Two Spotted Cows," Lance translated.
The bartender nodded and began preparing the men's beers. He slid the bottles down the bar, Derrick, and Lance each catching one and taking a drink.
"So, why are we here again?" Lance asked.
"Drinking takes the pain away," Derrick said sarcastically.
"What pain do you need to get away from? You're the big shot Derrick Vayden," Lance said, mockingly.
"I know who the hell I am. It was a joke," Vayden suddenly snapped.
"Damn, what's pissed you off all of a sudden?"
"Multiple reasons. My takeout was cold last night, the movie I saw the other day sucked, Brewers lost, and my cat keeps trying to eat my lizards. All of this stuff combined is pissing me off."
"Why can't you ever be open about your feelings?"
"Honesty is for pussies and drunks."
"Whatever, man."
The conversation quickly changed. The friends began comparing their workouts earlier in the night. Obviously, Vayden said he did more reps, ran more miles, and had more chicks staring at him than Lance. Whether any of that was true or not was up for debate, but Holt really didn't feel like arguing. Afterward, the two decided to take a look at Vayden's social feed, which Lance managed for him. Plenty of praise as well as hatred, same old stuff.
A new addition of the mentions, however, were fans linking Vayden to videos and stills of the previous Monday Night Clash show. Mostly of a match between Alex Kincaid taking on his opponent next week, Lissie Hope. They were all saying how exciting next week's show was going to be because of them. Vayden just rolled his eyes.
When they were through with that, Derrick and Lance went back to their normal conversation. Their topics ranged from movies and music to sports and athletics. Every once in a while, they were interrupted by pesky fans demanding photos and autographs. Nine times out of ten the fan would bring up Vayden's match at Clash, much to the chagrin of Derrick.
Each time this happened, Derrick's frustration grew another level. It was when he had to sit through a particularly annoying fan ranting on and on about how great this Hope chick is. Finally, Vayden had heard enough. He downed the last of his beer, placing the bottle on the counter with an emphatic *clang*.
"Get out of here, bud. I'm sick of your face" Vayden said, pushing the fan towards the door. "Lance get your phone. Take a video."
"Okay... why?" Lance asked, doing what his friend said.
"I got shit to say."
"Fair enough."
Lance began rolling the video on his phone. Derrick took a second to brush hair out of his face as he processed what he was about to say. After about a minute, Vayden finally spoke up.
"I don't need to introduce myself. You know who I am. So instead, I'm going to talk about the opponent in my debut match in Action Wrestling. Now, I don't like adding onto the fire... mainly because I'm the one starting them. However, I can't help but throw my two cents into the topic of Miss Hope.
"Ever since I made my wrestling debut, everyone in this great... mediocre state of Wisconsin has talked about me and me alone. Yet I've been out and about all day today and these mouth breathers will not shut up about you, Liz.
"Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not intimidated by you, not at all. In fact, it simply confirms something I already knew. However, I'll save that for a later in this little rant. Right now, I want to tell you a little story about moi. Come with me on this journey and you'll soon realize how you and I are a bit similar... yet miles apart.
"Our story begins, as it usually does, with a child, dreams bigger than the moon, brighter than the stars in the night sky. This child's dreams weren't of being a pro wrestling megastar, no. Instead, he wanted simply wanted to make everyone happy. To make everyone feel love and friendship. It's sappy as fuck but that's real life sometimes. Yes, as ridiculous as it seems, the child strove for world peace...
"BUT! Dreams don't always work out, do they? No, dreams, more often than not, die. They are crushed under the weight of reality. This child's dream was one of them. Not all at once, mind you. This poor boy was devastated over the course of many many years. He discovered that there is a lot of evil in the world. He learned that he wouldn't be able to what he set out to do. So, as the saying goes, if you can't beat 'em…
"Join them.
"Well, the poor kid didn't exactly JOIN them. No, he went to the proverbial dark side but didn't align himself with the aforementioned evil. To use another popular saying, he fought fire with fire. The boy fought against the evil that tried to destroy him, and he came out clean on the other side. He stood his ground and fought to the very end.
"Alas, the long fight left the boy a dejected and bitter shell of the bright-eyed child he once was. Now he developed an ego greater than that of Xerxes. He's become the embodiment of the very evil he fought in the first place. Now all he craves is fame, all the attention, all the stardom. Guess what? He got what he wanted. His new dream was realized..."
Vayden paused his rant to take a long gulp from his New Glarus. He let out a small, cocky chuckle as a smirk crossed his face.
"I know what you're thinking. 'Why does that stupid story matter at all?' Except maybe with a few more expletives because you think swearing every other word makes you cool. Well, this story matters because it demonstrates how you and I are alike as well as different. Allow me to explain.
"See, Miss Hope, we've both seen some shit, we've both taken some beatings. Most importantly, we've both used those beatings to rise above and make something great of ourselves. However comma, that's where we deviate. See, I stuck around to deal with my problems head-on. I planted both feet in the ground and faced it all head on. What did you do? You ran. You left for the bright lights of NOLA, leaving your demons behind. I go to sleep with my demons while you run off to a hotel, so to speak.
"I get it, though. That's in the past. We're in the present looking towards the future. So I'll get into my problems with you right now. Get your popcorn ready, there's a bit to go through.
"My first grievance isn't really towards you, but your 'fans'. They see one match of yours and suddenly you're the talk of the town. I've been entertaining these numskulls since I stepped foot in this profession and then you waltz in for five minutes and boom, that's all they need. Oh, but don't get me wrong. I really don't care that they're ogling over the flavor of the day... but you? You of all people are said flavor? Are you kidding me?
"That leads me to my second point. You think you're different? Rebellious, vulgar tomboy with tattoos and daddy issues, colored hair that makes you look like something out of a circus act. The whole 'I'm not like most girls' act. Y'know, I've walked past at least fifty of women just like you in this wretched city just in the past few hours. How else are you different? Are you obsessed with pizza & The Office and 'just want to date my dog'? Please.
"Finally, is your personality. I see through your façade like a freshly cleaned pane of glass. You put on this face of a badass in the public eye. However, whenever one of these idiots shove a picture or video of you into my face, I can see into your eyes. I see the fear and anxiety of a child who just stepped into a world she knows nothing. About.
"In conclusion, my friend, you're in over your head. I applaud you on your first win, but sunlight shines on a dog's ass sometimes. This Monday on Clash, though... the sun will be gone and your luck will run out. Hold onto your hope, because it's all people like you have to make tomorrow seem less grim."
Derrick took another gulp from his beer, finishing it off. He placed the bottle down on the counter before turning back to the camera.
"Cut it, that's a wrap," He said, sliding his thumb across his throat, his cocky smirk still present.
"Damn, that was intense," Lance said, hitting the red button on his screen, stopping the video.
Vayden took his wallet out of his gym bag, took out a handful of cash, and set it on the counter next to his empty bottle, "Post that everywhere. I'm out."
Vayden got up from his stool and began pushing his way through the patrons of the bar before Lance could even say anything. Doing as he was told, he posted the video to all of Vayden's social media pages.
Lance got up and saddled up his own tab before making his way out. He turned the corner and began his walk back to his home. What he didn't notice in the darkness was that Derrick was leaning against the wall of the bar, gazing longingly at the stars in the sky...
-FIN-