Post by Dionysus on Nov 20, 2022 14:19:41 GMT -5
Uncle Anton was currently being held in a facility in Saint Cloud on a twenty-year sentence. Normally, I would have taken Highway 10 to get there. But today was different. Having been deep in my self reflection, I needed to approach my past and reconcile with it. So Interstate 94 it is. I pulled off at Clearwater to fill up, hoping I could also swing into The Kettle for a quick bite to eat before I continued on. I remember the billboard with the owner's dopey, yet happy, face plastered on the side, and having been in there a few times before, also remembering that the man matched that picture. So when I saw the large "Closed" sign on the doors, all I could do was shake my head. It would be gas station food for me. Be still, my stomach. Driving back toward the highway, I pulled into the nearest station and topped off my car. As the pump ticked away, I became lost in my thoughts. How was I going to talk to this man who had done so much harm to my family? That he may actually know where my father is, but kept it from us for so long? I can't even think of when the last time I saw Anton was, only the day he was finally arrested. I'm sure he's sitting there, pleased with himself over the destruction he caused. He probably has fingers in more pots now that he's been away for this long. Nothing would make me happier than reaching through that glass pane, putting my hands around his neck, and- *KERCHUNK* The noise of the pump stopping roused me from my thoughts. I replaced the pump and walked inside the station. It was small, if serviceable, meant more for a quick stop and resupply than a few of the full blown freight trucker paradises you might find on this interstate. I grabbed a bottle of water and a muffin, opting not to grab anything from the warming stations. It would already be uncomfortable sitting across from the man who nearly ruined my life, but to have stomach issues on top of that? No thanks. I approached the counter as the attendant, an older-looking man, scanned my items disinterestedly. "$5.53," he informed as he looked up at me. I pulled out my wallet looking for some cash. "How are the roads this morning?" I asked. "Roads are okay, but there was an accident about a half mile from here. Road crew is still workin' on it. Probably gonna be another few minutes before its all cleared up, but should be open to drive," he rattled off. I hadn't expected a full traffic report. I handed him a ten, and as he gathered up the change, he continued, "All kinds of accidents happen 'round here. Not surprised when the roads start turnin' to ice. There was one a few years back, some folk headin' toward the city, rolled the car and it ended up sideways. Never did find out if they were okay. Sure hope they were." My shoulder twinged as he described the accident. I doubt he was referring to my own accident, as rollovers like that weren't uncommon in the winter months. He handed me my change and nodded politely to him as I turned toward the door. "I think they ended up being okay. Its nice that you still think of them even if you don't know who they are. Keep on it," I said, not waiting to hear his reply as I walked out the door. As I got back into my car, I started up the engine and sat for a moment, hands clutching the steering wheel. I was going to need all my strength to get through this reunion. I pulled back out onto the interstate, driving carefully around the site of the accident. The car had slid off the road into the ditch, and the passengers were shaken but otherwise seemed fine. They were standing around in the cold morning light waiting for the tow truck to arrive and help them out. I smiled; while their situation looked bad, I was happy that they looked like they weren't hurt. It gave me hope that, in time, I would also be okay. ------------------------------------------ I suppose you want to tell me what I already know. That my transformation has yielded zero results. That I am back at the drawing board, standing once again at the gates of Action Wrestling as the measuring stick. But lest we forget, even Spencer admitted I brought him to his limits. That is the type of competition you get with me. And the fact that I was not expected to even get so far as the second round is a sign that more people should recognize my ability. I expect you will learn this lesson, Rey Jaguar, when we go to war. A man of mysterious origin, keeping his true identity a secret under the mask. Nothing inherently wrong with playing the character you want to be...although being true to yourself is also as rewarding with less work involved. I see you have managed to hybrid the lucha and catch styles. Curious, especially for someone of your stature. It will be interesting to see how this match plays out for you. You also hold honor above all else, as do I. Hell, in any other circumstance, we'd probably make a great team. But alas, we stand on opposite corners, and honor will only take you so far. Trust me, I have learned this lesson the hard way. While I still strive for honorable competition, I also know when to knuckle down and go for the win. Truthfully, my hope for you is that eventually, you will see my way of thinking. See, I am approaching this match as a scouting opportunity. To see what the newest Action Wrestling has signed brings to the table. And who knows? Maybe we can work something out in the future. That said, I am here to push you to your limits, to see just where you will eventually stack up with the rest of the roster. I am here to bend the sapling; be sure not to snap under the pressure. Meanwhile... *sigh* lets get this over with. Cheeks. Cheeks is a walking definition of the guy who was third string on his high school football team, decided that would be his peaking moment, and from then on let himself devolve into a myriad of butt jokes. All because he's from Butte. First off, they call it Butte, not Butt, Montana. Get that through, and we'll be off to a good start. Second, why in the hell would you say you were "denied a victory" when you won your debut? What, because you had to share it? Oh boo hoo, the big bum split a win and thinks its a loss. A win is a win, and when your hindsight isn't as shitty as your hindquarters, you will begin to see that. But as it is, you're nothing more than a joke. Your hyper fixation on WGWF is laughable; you focus so much on your past that you fail to see the clear and present threat standing before you. I'm here to ensure that your posterior gets another mark in the L column. There's no come from behind story for you, no pulling a win out your ass, no cheeky display of ring awareness. You are simply going to lie down, wait for the three, then side cheek sneak your way out of that ring and think about what your future holds. I will ensure your hopes and dreams swirl down the drain. So says The Crimson Gladiator. There will come a day when this song and dance will end. But until then, the warpath begins anew. Quia Possum Luctari. |
