Post by Carter Shaw on Jun 4, 2023 10:21:37 GMT -5
5/20/23
The Saint Shaw World Tour bus sat stationary, pulled off to the side of the road. Directly in front of it stood a tall white sign reading “ENTERING BOSTON. Est 1630”. Shaw leaned forward in the driver’s seat, as he had given his driver the week off in search of solitude. His eyes didn’t rest on the sign but rather the road stretching past it, leading away from the Charleston Bridge and towards the historic downtown.
He peered down at his phone, resting silent in the cupholder beneath the CD player.
No Notifications.
Once Carter had left the city after his brother’s public accusation of ‘firestarter’, he hadn’t been back yet, simply traveling the road with AW and ignoring calls from the press. The voicemails varied in intention, unsurprisingly. A large majority of it was in search of a statement of innocence, looking to make sure that ‘Carter Shaw’ name stayed clean for the city. Others looked to pry and prod, seeking more information as if everyone with a pen and paper were private detectives.
Beauty of a phone.
It doesn’t need to be answered.
Not yet.
Driver’s side window pulled open, the breeze creeping in with a relaxing breath, Shaw inhaled deeply. He had driven here with purpose, but fumbled the motivation along the way, suddenly not feeling like facing the public to reassure them that Saint Shaw is still a Saint; To reaffirm the popular theories that his brother was lying when he spoke into those microphones.
But in order to redeem his image, he’d have to throw his brother under the bus.
And Boston’s public transportation can be quite unforgiving.
He wasn’t sure where Chris was now. Was he still even living in Boston? Had he been for the last 2 years? Has he returned to lying low or was he quietly continuing to talk and spread word against Carter like wildfire?
This was also on Carter’s agenda for a Boston visit, but that too suddenly didn’t seem like a priority. An oncoming car slowed at the sight of the massive Saint Shaw World Tour bus parked aside the street. The horn started blaring excitedly as hands came out the open windows, pumping fists and spinning waves. The car continued on, as Shaw simply lifted a flat palm out the open window that he couldn’t hide from.
They didn’t throw rocks.
They didn’t hurl insults.
They were still fans, showering the bus with love and excitement.
Saint Shaw was still Saint Shaw, atleast to some.
Several minutes passed as Carter’s eyes shifted between the road leading forward ahead of him, and the rearview mirror.
“Fuck it…”
Shaw put the bus in drive and rolled it diagonal across the street, backing it up to the small tree line and swinging it around to head in the opposite direction.
Now Boston in its entirety faded away in the rearview.
Chase Jackson, a name that has floated around AW since its dawn. The consummate space filler. The ultimate role player. You know me quite well for multiple reasons, Chase, but perhaps the most memorable is watching me from the background tear the Following apart in front of your very eyes. Always in the shadows of Kemp, of Dandy, of CJ…you watched it all happen like free reality television.
But now? All this time later? Well, you’re still here. Kemp and Dandy about to stain the AW Hall Of Fame, and you? Well you get to continue to be the shapeless role player. And at Clash, you simply fill the role of a message to Frank Patrick Venable.
My ticket for Evolution 6 is now punched. And while I’m not ‘headlining’ it for a 3rd year in a row, once again my name will be attached to that headliner. And Chase? You're lucky that your name is even attached to this Clash card.
Time to play your role.
At Clash, you are FPV. And just like he will at Evolution, you’re about to go down even faster than your CJ2.0 era will last. And while I decide whether I want you to rest easy to a Frankle Slam or remind the world what a BOOM! HEADSHOT! Used to feel like when Frankie could actually use his foot…
I want you to figure out…just what in the hell you’re doing here. Insincere apologies in advance, Jackson, but luckily CJ Version 3 has a nice ring to it. I’ll send you back to the drawing board. Just like Lyn. Just like Kyle Kemp. Just like any impact you’ve ever tried to make in this business.
Atleast you’re used to it.
The Saint Shaw World Tour bus sat stationary, pulled off to the side of the road. Directly in front of it stood a tall white sign reading “ENTERING BOSTON. Est 1630”. Shaw leaned forward in the driver’s seat, as he had given his driver the week off in search of solitude. His eyes didn’t rest on the sign but rather the road stretching past it, leading away from the Charleston Bridge and towards the historic downtown.
He peered down at his phone, resting silent in the cupholder beneath the CD player.
No Notifications.
Once Carter had left the city after his brother’s public accusation of ‘firestarter’, he hadn’t been back yet, simply traveling the road with AW and ignoring calls from the press. The voicemails varied in intention, unsurprisingly. A large majority of it was in search of a statement of innocence, looking to make sure that ‘Carter Shaw’ name stayed clean for the city. Others looked to pry and prod, seeking more information as if everyone with a pen and paper were private detectives.
Beauty of a phone.
It doesn’t need to be answered.
Not yet.
Driver’s side window pulled open, the breeze creeping in with a relaxing breath, Shaw inhaled deeply. He had driven here with purpose, but fumbled the motivation along the way, suddenly not feeling like facing the public to reassure them that Saint Shaw is still a Saint; To reaffirm the popular theories that his brother was lying when he spoke into those microphones.
But in order to redeem his image, he’d have to throw his brother under the bus.
And Boston’s public transportation can be quite unforgiving.
He wasn’t sure where Chris was now. Was he still even living in Boston? Had he been for the last 2 years? Has he returned to lying low or was he quietly continuing to talk and spread word against Carter like wildfire?
This was also on Carter’s agenda for a Boston visit, but that too suddenly didn’t seem like a priority. An oncoming car slowed at the sight of the massive Saint Shaw World Tour bus parked aside the street. The horn started blaring excitedly as hands came out the open windows, pumping fists and spinning waves. The car continued on, as Shaw simply lifted a flat palm out the open window that he couldn’t hide from.
They didn’t throw rocks.
They didn’t hurl insults.
They were still fans, showering the bus with love and excitement.
Saint Shaw was still Saint Shaw, atleast to some.
Several minutes passed as Carter’s eyes shifted between the road leading forward ahead of him, and the rearview mirror.
“Fuck it…”
Shaw put the bus in drive and rolled it diagonal across the street, backing it up to the small tree line and swinging it around to head in the opposite direction.
Now Boston in its entirety faded away in the rearview.
Chase Jackson, a name that has floated around AW since its dawn. The consummate space filler. The ultimate role player. You know me quite well for multiple reasons, Chase, but perhaps the most memorable is watching me from the background tear the Following apart in front of your very eyes. Always in the shadows of Kemp, of Dandy, of CJ…you watched it all happen like free reality television.
But now? All this time later? Well, you’re still here. Kemp and Dandy about to stain the AW Hall Of Fame, and you? Well you get to continue to be the shapeless role player. And at Clash, you simply fill the role of a message to Frank Patrick Venable.
My ticket for Evolution 6 is now punched. And while I’m not ‘headlining’ it for a 3rd year in a row, once again my name will be attached to that headliner. And Chase? You're lucky that your name is even attached to this Clash card.
Time to play your role.
At Clash, you are FPV. And just like he will at Evolution, you’re about to go down even faster than your CJ2.0 era will last. And while I decide whether I want you to rest easy to a Frankle Slam or remind the world what a BOOM! HEADSHOT! Used to feel like when Frankie could actually use his foot…
I want you to figure out…just what in the hell you’re doing here. Insincere apologies in advance, Jackson, but luckily CJ Version 3 has a nice ring to it. I’ll send you back to the drawing board. Just like Lyn. Just like Kyle Kemp. Just like any impact you’ve ever tried to make in this business.
Atleast you’re used to it.