The Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Fame
Mar 13, 2022 1:55:53 GMT -5
CJ Phoenix, Lissie Hope, and 7 more like this
Post by Johnny Bacchus on Mar 13, 2022 1:55:53 GMT -5
Mae had several tests to study for as she continued her online classes, so to keep her undistracted, Johnny has traveled alone. Lissie had likewise been unengaged (her squeeze had taken some time to return home to New Zealand), and the two had spent the week keeping one another company. It was in the midst of a few casual pub visits, the incessant snapping of pictures, and the online rumor mill firing at a level he’d not seen that finally made it click for Johnny that he’d “made it.” By the end of the trip, he’d taken to wearing hats and hoodies more often, just to maintain some minimal obscuring of his identity. Lissie didn’t mind – she even seemed to take a distinct pleasure in being seen – but as Johnny’s Twitter replies filled with more and more questions of impropriety, his concern for his privacy (particularly the privacy of his relationship with Mae) grew. And as he reflected on the week while sitting in the back of an Uber making its way to Louis Armstrong International Airport, he supposed he couldn’t fault the rumor mill for the conclusion they’d come to, even if erroneous. At the mouth of Bourbon Street, Lissie had frozen and her face paled. The carnival sounds of decadence and debauchery poured forth, beckoning the two of them with neon beer signs and strip tease shows, and offering every indulgence they could desire. Johnny reached out to take her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay,” he leaned in to whisper to her, “I’m gonna be right here the whole time.” Her hand didn’t leave his until they’d reached the Marigny. But this is the role he’d signed up for when he chased and captured success. He understood, and had even cautioned others, that there was a personal exchange required of anyone who sought glory. He no longer had the luxury of being Jonathan Backus after the show was over; Johnny Bacchus was a non-stop gig, no matter how exhausting, and when you step into that spotlight, your actions will be subject to scrutiny and interpretation. When the Uber arrived at the terminal, he pulled on his hat and pulled up his mask. It was a shame that the paparazzi hadn’t caught wind of his and Lissie’s fight – that would’ve been a convenient damper on the rumors. Fuck the foreplay, Dutch. Maybe this may seem a little bit out of left field for some of those playing at home, but we’ve both known this has been a long time coming. People like you and me? We’re too diametrically opposed to exist in the same company for long without the eruption of tension. I’m sure this isn’t the most ideal scenario for you – if you’d had known Pasternak would be calling my name a month ago and I’d be walking down the ramp and back into your life, I’m sure you’d have rigged up some Dick Dastardly suspended anvil trap in the back to take me out the second I walked through the curtain. But rest assured, Regan, that I too would like to most expedient end to our acquaintance as possible, and that’s why I’m going to beat you into pulled pork with as few theatrics as I can resist, so I can rid the civilized world of a fiend like yourself. And while I plan to make as quick work of you as possible, let’s not pretend I won’t revel in it. After all, we’ve wanted this. Both of us. Maybe it was the playful Twitter banter, or maybe it was when you attempted to cave my friend’s lungs in with a fire extinguisher. Either way, this was an inevitability – you said as much yourself against DanFehl when you were flustered to find him as your opponent in the Wrestler of the Year Finals instead of me. I can’t say I blame that expectation; your foray through the tournament seemed practically symbolic in its booking. In round one, you showed the world that Lissie Hope’s coronation of you back on CruiserClash was no fluke and no charity when you dispatched her. You moved on to shock the world with a stunning win over Corey Black, proving that you were far more than a dismissable Cruiserweight taking advantage of a distracted talent for an anomalous win. And when you walked into the semis against Teo Blaze, you finally were able to rip the beating heart of your show straight from its chest and watch it bleed and beat in your hands for its last. The mountain was climbed – all that was needed was the flag to be planted on the summit. I’m sure the prospect of doing so at the expense of that lippy little Twitter imp who postures himself as the company’s Robin Hood would have been tres parfait. So when Dannyboy was your opponent, you blanked. It cost you, and any attempts since then to correct course and properly ready yourself to unseat Dannyboy have been frustrated by the interjection of others, from Winnie the Pooh… to that same annoying Twitter Imp you didn’t have the chance to squash. Voila, ma cherie. If you’d like your little destined match, I’ll happily deliver. But understand that for all your mythmaking, this is a match you alone can place significance in. For me, this is mere labor. There’s no bitter rivalry here – there’s no historical build or deep set series of events bringing us to this point. Our story is shallow: I find your entire persona abhorrent and monstrous, you have hurt people I care for, and I’m going to take satisfaction in righting the wrongs you’ve done to others on your corpse-filled march to glory. I apologize if this is a little too Shakespearean and not more grandiose on an operatic level, but some vendettas are petty. I deny you historic hatred you so crave and cultivate, offering you only the disgust and contempt you deserve. I won’t shed tears of happiness after I put you down – but I will feel some smirking satisfaction. And I’m sure, Dutch, it must drive you insane to imagine an outcome so unpretentious and ordinary for you. She rose before he could reply, rummaging in her purse and retrieving a wad of bills. She threw them on the table as payment for the Topo Chico as she muttered accusatively at him. “Well don’t worry, Mister Rascal Prince or what the hell ever, you just have fun doing your little main eventer thing and calling to question the wisdom of us peons you know so much more than. Practically set a record for how fast you pissed off and alienated yourself from most of the company – you may as well be a dick to the few people who encouraged you.” Before he could utter another word, she holstered the purse and already started for the door. “I’ll see you in Washington,” she said without looking back, “Have fun fighting ‘the monster I created.’” Johnny didn’t try to stop her. After finishing his beer, he went to the bar to close his tab – someone approached him and asked if he’d follow them back on Twitter to show their friends before he was able to leave. Cynicism aside, Johnny was glad the fight in the jazz club hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention. He could picture the TMZ headlines now and dreaded the very idea of swatting off prying questions, distorted reporting, and tasteless gossip. He could handle what concerned him alone – that was a baseline expectation – but he hated Mae being dragged in. But it was these moments and these burdens that tested the caliber and tenacity of any rising star, just as much as any match at a pay-per-view. If he couldn’t handle fan interaction and talking head speculative bullshit, how could he expect to be able to handle a demon like Regan Voorhees. His time in the security screening line was relatively peaceful. Until he had to remove his hat and pull down his mask for the TSA. Once through the millimeter wave scanner, Johnny signed three autographs and took four pictures while waiting for his bag to clear screening. Let me ask you, Regan, how’s the weight of this year been on your shoulders so far? After all, it’s not everyone who gets to come off a stunning finalist placement in Wrestler of the Year, Rookie of the Year, and a fan-vote Wrestler of the Year. You’ve flirted with it before, but we all can see this move up to Clash is more permanent of you. The anticipation is high, the expectations are set, and this is no longer a practice test. How does it feel to learn you’re a medium fish in a big pond? Being in the main event of this company is the biggest test any would-be champion can face. There’s no higher challenge, and there’s no more time to grow: you need to put up or shut up and stop wasting everyone’s time. Not everyone is cut out to be here, and Dionysus was reminded of that two weeks ago when he buckled under the weight. It’s also why if Corey Black has any sense of pity, once he defeats Winnie the Pooh, he’ll ignore Tati out of a sense of mercy, rather than allow her to bury herself by being exposed. The belt is just a representation of success – it’s the physical embodiment of having faced and defeated the best. But you can grab that belt with a hot hand and prove yourself unworthy of holding it for long. Every Dan has its day. And through those three months here in the land of the giants, the pressure’s been unkind to you. That carefully curated facade of cold violence and preternatural intelligence has already been scratched and dented by failure, flaking the gilded surface to reveal the rusty core beneath. You’ve seen your partner nearly drive her career off a cliff through her mediocrity, and her victory over Carter Shaw will probably salvage her standings only by virtue of obliterating the last of Shaw’s. You are just as much on that tightrope, and will give a nice little spark to propel you through Havoc. Unless you lose. Then you may just tumble into the abyss. And I fully intend to see that through. Because up close and personal, I don’t see Slaughterella – I see a series of weaknesses and postures. Revealing the Great and Powerful Oz is just projection and hot gas doesn’t even require pulling back the curtain. There’s a lot of people who’re praying for my failure. Like most of the vicious psychopaths in this company, you’re going to get plenty of insecure dweebs who cheer you on because they think my belligerence is more egregious than your violent cruelty. Yet a rude awakening is at hand – you who thinks I’m easy prey and them who thought I’d ever be stopped. Because I am ready for the weight, Regan. I do belong here and have no intention of leaving. This match isn’t my end, it’s simply my first step at your expense. I’ll pair that with a fine wine and a celebratory anthem. It was the first time in Johnny’s life he’d paid to fly Business Class instead of Coach. It had made his skin crawl to even consider booking something so elitist, bourgeois, and seemingly unnecessary for a cross-country trip, but his flight into New Orleans had been dominated by conversation with several fans in surrounding seats who’d recognized him. The week had been tiring for him, and a two-hour jetlag with the impending arrival of Daylight Savings Time on Sunday meant he required as much uninterrupted rest as possible. And on the plus side, it meant an earlier place in the boarding order and less time standing at the gate. The seat was next to a window, and the person seated beside him was an older woman. After telling her he’d planned to sleep and hoped she didn’t mind the window being closed for the duration of the flight, she nodded politely and understandingly. He put his sunglasses and headphones on before he nestled himself in the corner between the seat and the cabin wall, his mind trailing to one last memory as he drifted to sleep. He hadn’t slept much the night before – too much had been on his mind. The fight had weighed heavily, especially with a new rumor circulating in regards to some cryptic tweets Lissie made regarding her relationship with Emma, and he’d feared his concerns had been founded. Thankfully, the wait for his Uber was brief, and he expected to get a few minutes of rest on the moderate drive from downtown to the airport. It was a black Honda CRV, only a few years old. The owner was quick to leap out and take his bag to the trunk. “I couldn’t believe it,” said the young man, his voice bursting with excitement, “when your name and face showed up in the app. I’m a huge fan – was even there at the Smoothie King Center the other night. This is so freakin’ cool!” Johnny mustered a smile, relinquishing the desire to nap and thankful his sunglasses concealed the bags under his eyes. “Always cool to meet a fan.” But this was now his reality. And this was the expectation he assumed as a top tier talent. Next was Regan Voorhees – she could be the breather he needed. The irony of being punched in the face being a reprieve was not lost on him, but that’s what life’s like when you’ve made it. And this was only the beginning. |