Post by Deleted on Dec 12, 2020 13:55:33 GMT -5
TUESDAY 3:30 AM ~ OFF CAMERA
Michael mindlessly strolls through the hallways of the hotel, no destination in mind. It’s quiet, most of the hotel guests asleep in their beds. Of course at 3:30 am, that’s to be expected. It seems the days of waking up at 5:00 are behind him as he’s woken by nightmares more often than not these days.
I really need to figure this shit out.
The nightmares hadn’t plagued him like this in years and he has no clue what triggers them. All he can do is use his extra waking hours productively. Or drink. And he had his fun with that already.
can’t believe I passed out in the doorway.
It isn’t long before he finds himself exiting the hotel through a side door. The crisp night air hits his face as the temperature is in the low 20’s. Luckily he’s dressed for it as he sports a black pair of under armour pants and a black Uprising hoodie. He’s also got a pair of air pods in his ears as he listens to a Spotify playlist. His first song of choice is Bullet for my Valentine’s You Want a Battle (here’s a war).
That’s fitting. I’m sure I’ll be going to war with Luther.
The struggle he’s heading into isn’t lost on him. He knows good and well that this may be the hardest match since his return to wrestling earlier this year. Of course his ego won’t allow him to give his opponent too much credit publicly. But he has no issue admitting his opponents impressive capabilities.
But it doesn’t matter how capable Luther is. I can’t let him beat me.
He begins his walk, this time with a destination in mind. He realized late last night he was out of his skoal wintergreen dip. Nasty habit, but he always justifies it with the fact that it’s not meth.
At least I won’t end up like Jeramie.
Marou pushes the thought from his mind. He doesn’t usually allow his head to wander towards thoughts of his late brother. With a literal shake, he moves on toward more pleasant thoughts.
Can’t believe Logan was able to work her way back into the tournament. That was pretty bad ass and well deserved. Fuckin proud of that girl.
Michael is still a little unsure about his feelings for her. They have become solid friends over the last few months. And those feelings of friendship have definitely evolved into something more. But he can’t help but wonder what the right move is. He just dumped Kacey Anders a few weeks ago because she was holding him back in his career. Is another relationship the right move?
It’s different with Logan though. For starters, she can hold her own in the ring way more then Anders ever could. Logan and I aren’t working as a tag team. And Logan isn’t a superficial, high-maintenance floozie. Heh… I’m honestly surprised my relationship with Anders lasted as long as it did. She’s definitely not my type. Logan is much more… real.
Either way, the internal monologue solves nothing. Marou believes that Logan has developed some feelings beyond friendship for him, but neither has really made a move yet.
As his thoughts jump from subject to subject like a Cirque Du Soleil act, he finds himself in the parking lot of a 24/7 truck stop. He heads into the store, appreciating the emptiness of it. At this time of night (morning?), the occupants of the store consist solely of the cashier. Michael approaches the counter, pulling his wallet from his pants pocket.
“Can I get a can of Skoal Wintergreen, please?”
“You save two bucks if you buy a roll.”
The cashier says matter of factly. Michael shrugs, he’s going to chew it either way so he might as well save the two bucks. He nods in agreement at the cashier, who then grabs a roll of five cans and rings it up.
“Hey, you’re Michael Marou right? From Uprising?”
Oh damn, here we go.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
The cashier smiles a bit, excited to have someone of fame in his store.
“I’ll be honest, I’m not a huge fan of wrestling. But my friend’s dad is part of the ring crew so I’ve watched Uprising. You guys do some great work!”
“Yeah, thanks man. I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, from what I’ve seen, you’re probably gonna get your ass kicked on the next show. No offense, but Luther is a beast!”
“Yeah.. okay dude.”
Michael tries to brush the guy off and leave, but the kid won’t stop talking.
“I don’t mean to be disrespectful or anything… Just that there’s no way Luther is getting knocked out of this thing.”
“Dude, you aren’t even a fan of wrestling. You don’t know shit about either of us.”
Damn it, why did I engage?
Michael kicks himself mentally for saying anything back to the kid. But the cat is out of the bag now, and it ain’t going back in.
“I’ve been keeping up on the message boards, and Twitter. That dude is a beast. And as good as you are, you’re not Luther Thunder.”
Michael sighs deeply, wishing he didn’t have to do this.
“Listen motherfucker, since you want to sound so educated, I’ll drop some knowledge on you. I’ve been busting my ass this year, working across four different federations. Undefeated in two of them. A champion in one of them. And a top star in the fourth one, which is pretty fuckin’ impressive since I haven’t even had a match there yet. I made a big enough impact before they went on hiatus that I’m still one of the most talked about wrestlers on the roster, and they haven't even seen me in their ring yet.”
Even as he was lashing out at the poor cashier, he knew he should reign it in some. But he’s never been all that great at controlling his temper. Once something sets him off, he has to let whoever is involved know what’s on his mind.
“As far as Luther goes, he’s a veteran with about thirteen years in the business. He’s got less life in him now. The wear and tear on his body has taken its toll. I would have beaten the Luther of 2007 and I’ll damn sure beat the guy now.”
In a huff, Michael grabs the roll of Skoal off the counter and storms out of the store, damn near hitting another incoming customer with the door as he explodes through it.
Damn it, that security footage better not end up on youtube or some shit.
Michael questions himself, wondering why he is the way that he is. Lashing out at a gas station attendant isn’t the best look. He really needs to work on his temper.
I’m just fuckin’ sick of everyone doubting me. I’ve earned more respect than that.
He shakes his head in annoyance as he fishes out a pinch of dip from his newly bought can. He stuffs the pinch into his bottom lip as he heads back toward the hotel. A quick check of his watch shows that about forty-five minutes have passed since he left the hotel room. What else can he do now to kill time?
TUESDAY 5:00 AM ~ ON CAMERA
It’s become a bit of tradition for those on the Uprising roster now; sitting up with a camera rolling in the hotel room. Most of the roster is housed in the same hotel, and many of the rooms are all set up the same, so the scene is very familiar. Michael mulls over the familiarity, wondering if it’s over done at this point. Though at this point, it doesn’t matter. The camera is already rolling as Michael sits on the couch, staring into the lens of his Iphone with his trademark grin.
“What is there to say about this upcoming match without sounding like a repetitive asshole? It seems like every other day, someone is making one of these videos, saying the same bullshit over and over again. Sounding like that tired ass song that Tim McGraw did with Nelly… its over and fucking over again. Ninety percent of the time, it’s Tirri babbling on about the same shit, but I imagine that’s because he sits in his fortress of solitude with nothing better to do then drink, smoke and bullshit. Well now it’s my turn to babble on, as I get ready to set foot in the ring again Luther Thunder in the semi finals of this hellacious tournament. This tournament has seen me beat Kendrick Kross and Chris Mosh. This tournament has seen Luther get a bye in the first round just to go on and beat Sam Warwick. This tournament has seen Don Tirri screw Logan Lewis out of her spot in the tournament, just to see her take the bull by the horns and get her spot back, leaving Tirri to bitch and moan like a twelve year old girl who can’t have the latest Iphone. Yet he has the audacity to call Logan a spoiled brat… But I digress. I’m not here to talk about Tirri’s woes of self hatred. I’m here to talk about my match.”
Michael can’t help but take shots at Tirri. When Michael first showed up in Uprising, he looked at Tirri a little differently. He knew Tirri was here to make an impact in the twilight of his career. He knew he wouldn’t be able to trust Tirri too much, as he’d stab him in the back to get an extra ten seconds in the spotlight. Of course Michael doesn’t blame Tirri for that; most wrestlers are the same way. But he did see a bit of friendly banter and a little innocence in Tirri. It wasn’t until the last show that Old School Cool really showed his true colors. Michael knows he’s on a collision course with Tirri that may or may not culminate in the finals of this tournament. But either way, that’s not what this is about.
“I’ll be honest, I fully expected to step into the semi-finals against Sam Warwick. Not a slight to Luther, but I know SAW’s background a bit more. We’re trained in the same classes of martial arts. About the same size and stature. Close to the same amount of experience. But as fate would have it, that match up won’t happen yet. Instead, I get the pleasure of taking out a thirteen year veteran in Luther Thunder.”
Michael leans forward on the couch with his elbows on his knees and his fingers laced together.
“See, Luthie. Since the end of the last show, you’ve jumped on Twitter a handful of times to offer me some advice. You appreciate my confidence, but also worry that I’m overlooking you. You admire my conviction, but say it might not be the wisest to bet on myself. See, you want me to be JUST confident enough to give you a good fight, but still ensure your victory.”
The grin turns to a bit of a cocky smirk as he rolls his eyes a little bit.
“Luthie, I know who you are. I know what you’re about. I know what you’re capable of. I know that if eighty percent of this roster stepped in the ring with you, you’d plow through them with ease. But I also know, I’m not them. I’m fuckin’ God-Tier talent. Now don’t take this wrong. I know what I’m up against. I know you’re about to give me the hardest match I’ve had since I stepped into Uprising. When I stepped against Kross, I gave him shit because I’m fifth seed and he was twelfth. When I went against Mosh, he was thirteenth. And I rubbed that in a bit, yanno. Just to get in their heads. To let them know that the powers that be in Uprising were counting them out before the tournament even started. To let Kross and Mosh know that I’m expected to beat them with ease. And now… the shoes on the other foot. I’m stepping into that ring against the number one seed. Does that mean that Brad Jackson and those secret entities above him have counted me out already?”
Michael shrugs a bit as he takes a sip from a water bottle. He nods his head ever so slightly as he pauses before speaking again.
“Perhaps so. Maybe I am expected to let Luther move on to the next round to face the other old man, the rookie, or the dragon But that’s the fun part, yeah? Because I’m counted out each and every time I step into a goddamn ring! Kross told me there was NO chance I was beating him. Mosh told me I’m a nice guy and he likes me, but he’s still gonna have to put me down. Every opponent I’ve had in Valiant has marked me off as an unintelligent meathead incapable of stringing two coherent thoughts together, let alone win in the ring. And what do I keep doing? Winning in the ring. Hell, check this out!”
Michael reaches down to the floor to grab something. As he comes back up, he shows his Valiant Chaos Championship to the camera.
“I took this title from another veteran in our business who disrespected and shit on everything this title once stood for. And I’ve already elevated this title beyond any prestige it’s had before. And look over at Dystopia. I’ve had two matches there. I took the fight to Mike Bishop, who said there was no way in hell I was beating him. Guess what I did? I beat him. And after that, we got a rematch in an Electric Steel Cage match. He told me there was no way I’d beat him a second time. Yanno what happened? I beat him a second goddamn time!”
Michael places the Chaos Title back down to the floor as he continues cutting his promo. He looks back to the camera with a fire in his eyes, obviously pissed that he continues to be discounted.
“But I’m not stepping into the ring against Two Belt Bishop now. I’m not going into the ring against Jackie Fowler. I’m not facing Kross, or Mosh or the fuckin hobo Boxcar Bob! I’m stepping into the ring again LUTHER MOTHERFUCKING THUNDER!”
He yells out his opponents name just a bit, giving some well deserved credit to who he’s stepping in the ring against.
“The Conquest Champion over at SRW. The thirteen year veteran! One of the few on our roster that could claim they’ve ‘forgotten more than the rookies will ever know!’ The one who can almost match Don Tirri in ‘back in my day’ monologues. The one with more miles behind him then in front of him. The one who’s clenching to the hope of one last big run before he withers away. Face it Luther. Your career is at death’s door. I have no delusions that I’ll be the one to end your career. In fact, I’ll go on to say that I don’t want to end your career. I think you’re valuable and you still have plenty to offer this industry. But I won’t deny that after our match, your career’s knocks on death’s door
will be just a little bit louder. Because while you’re hoping to get that one last big run on top, I’m just starting. And I’m not going to put my career on hold for the sake of an old man clinging to youth.”
The words were harsh, but they were intended to be. Michael knows these words will be hard to eat if he walks out of this match the loser. But if he walks out victorious like he intends to, these words will solidify to the world just who he is and what he’s about.
“Make no mistake Luther. I’m not underestimating you. I’m not looking down on you. I’m not counting you out. I’m aware of what you’re capable of and I’m aware that this will not be an easy victory for me. But it WILL be a victory for me. I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re staring at the lights from your back when this match is over. I won’t take the low road and mouth off about your lovely wife. I won’t take the shortcuts like putting my feet on the ropes like your ol’ pal Donny. I will beat you, fairly and cleanly, in the middle of the ring. If you want any hope of proving me wrong… you better bring the Thunder.”
He winks at the camera as he quips about Luther’s name. With that, he leans forward and hits the end button on the video, as he prepares to send the video off to the Uprising website. He’s as cocky as ever, and knows he’s going to the finals of this tournament; odds be damned.
WEDNESDAY 7:30 PM ~ OFF CAMERA
It was a cold day in Reno, just around 30 degrees outside, but that wasn't stopping Michael Marou and Logan Lewis from having a little fun. The pair were at an outside Go-Cart facility, each strapped into a cart. For Logan, forgetting the tirade of Don Tirri was important, as was getting to spend more time with Marou, who admittedly she was crushing on, even if she were yet to tell him or anyone.
Logan Lewis: “You're going down! So down, Marou!”
As they are given the okay to go ahead and start, Logan speeds off, trying to get ahead of Michael. A maniacal, over dramatic screaming laugh escapes the nineteen year old who grips the wheel of her car.
Logan Lewis: “EAT MY DUST!”
“Oo not today, Lewis! Get back here!”
Michael does his best to keep the pace with her but he finds himself just behind her as they come across the first turn. Logan makes sure to stay on the inside of the turn, not giving Michael time to get around her.
“This isn’t like Mario Kart! I’ll beat you this time!”
Logan Lewis: “You couldn't beat me then and you can't beat me now!”
Just as Michael was catching up, literally a pace behind her, she cuts him off, which causes him to bump into the back of her cart, sending them both bouncing up a bit but with Logan still ahead of him, laughing of course.
Logan Lewis: “Awww you thought didn't you?”
Stepping on the pedal harder, she tries to put more distance between them. Michael can’t help but grin. He’s been enjoying all the time spent with Logan and the playful yet competitive vibe she gives off has really drawn him to her.
“I beat you once!”
He yells out after her as he closes in again. Bumper to bumper, Marou accelerates a bit and tries to get her to lose control as he rear ends her.
“Didn’t expect me to play dirty did ya?”
The bump was enough to spin her out! Michael easily coasts by her now, leaving Logan to slap the wheel of her car, but there was no coming back now and she knew it.
Logan Lewis: “Well you are a dirty dog and that just proves it.”
The instructor tells her to restart her cart and drive it back to the starting point, which she does, and as she does, she unclasps her helmet and pulls it off, her blueish-gray hair blows in the wind now as she looks at Marou who was already out of his cart, extending a hand down to help her.
Logan Lewis: “I'm an independent woman thank you very much, I don't need a hand.”
She pushes herself out and hands her helmet to the instructor. Of course her eyes catch an ice cream stand just behind Marou, but she hasn't mentioned it yet.
Logan Lewis: “Hey if you're proud of that dirty win, then I salute you. But I'm pretty sure you knew I had you!”
Michael laughs, knowing she’s right.
“I told you I wouldn’t let you beat me here!”
Marou hands his own helmet off as he and Logan walk away from the go carts.
“What do you wanna do now? Or did you want me to win another race?”
He playfully bumps into her a bit as he continues he’s trash talk. He looks down at her just in time to see her roll her eyes a bit with a smile.
Logan Lewis: ‘You wouldn’t win again, trust me. I took it easy on you that time. But I think that last bump and spin was enough to retire me for the day. But next time! Oh next time...your ass is mine!”
Laughing, she looks up and directly over at the Carts & Cream Ice cream stand that was set up like most snowball stands. You simply walk up to the window and order.
Logan Lewis: “Ummm I mean there’s nothing better after ALMOST winning a race than drowning my would-be sorrows in vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup.”
“You took it easy on me? Why would you do that?”
Michael follows Logan's eyes and sees the ice cream stand. He starts walking toward it as he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet.
“Sprinkles too?”
Logan Lewis: “See now you’re redeeming yourself a bit. Just a little bit though.”
They reach the stand and order before moving to one of the socially distanced picnic tables outside. Sure it was thirty degrees, but they both were wearing jackets and it was a perfect day for ice cream otherwise. As they sit down, Logan digs her spoon into her chocolate syrup and sprinkle mounted scoop and looks up at Michael.
Logan Lewis: “Thank you. I know I’m usually wild and stuff, but you’ve been a good friend pretty much from day one. I needed this today. Like, needed needed it.”
Michael digs into his own ice cream as Logan talks. He listens to her closely before responding.
“Yeah, I know it’s been a rough couple weeks for ya. But you’re handling it well. And we all need some fun days like this.”
Of course Michael is referring to himself at this point as his mind drifts briefly to his recent string of nightmares. Though he doesn’t show it or confide in Logan.
“I just hope you aren’t letting Don get to ya. That’s his whole plan at this point.”
Logan Lewis: “I honestly was hurt by it all. I still am. But at the end of the day, I didn’t come here to make friends. Making them along the way is great, but I came here to begin my career, and him getting pissy over me doing what I feel is best for myself just shows that I’m in his head. Not the other way around.”
Of course he was in her head, but she wasn’t going to tell that to Michael, potentially her opponent in the finals should they both win.
Logan Lewis: “But you know what? This isn’t about him, or even the tournament, this is about us. I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me. You can admit it, I’m the prettiest girl in all of Reno.”
The outspoken rookie laughs a bit, looking up at Michael to see if he blushes or gives any hints away.
Logan Lewis: “Come on! Admit it!”
Michael does blush just a bit as he looks down at his ice cream. But the hint of embarrassment doesn’t last long as he looks back to her.
“Yeah, I admit it. Who knew I was so transparent?”
He smiles at her, not sure what to say next. For all of his confidence and bravado, he’s always struggled with talking about his feelings towards women he finds attractive. Not something he lets many people see.
“Fitting though, that you’d be here with the most handsome guy in Reno!”
Logan Lewis: “Really? Where is Chris Mosh? I don’t see him.”
Logan looks around a bit, teasing Marou before picking up her cup.
Logan Lewis: “But we should probably get out of here before we become human ice cream cones!”
She knew that the conversation was shifting towards her own feelings, and in typical Logan fashion, she wanted to keep things light hearted as she stands up, clutching that cup.
Michael stands up with her still laughing. One of the great things about Logan is she’s always able to make him laugh.
“Alright where should we go? Want me to drop you off with Mosh?”
Michael throws her a playful wink as they head back to the parking area. They head towards his black Dodge Charger and Michael, ever the gentlemen, opens the passenger door for Logan. Unlike with the Go-Karts, she doesn’t object to his act of chivalry this time as she gets into the car. He waits for her to be comfortably inside before closing the door for her. He smiles as he walks around the car towards the driver side.
“Fuck I’m definitely falling for this girl.”
He mutters under his breath with a bit of a happy sigh. He has a quick moment of unease as he thinks of the possibilities of facing her in the finals of the tournament, but that thought is fleeting as he goes back to enjoy the day with her.
Michael mindlessly strolls through the hallways of the hotel, no destination in mind. It’s quiet, most of the hotel guests asleep in their beds. Of course at 3:30 am, that’s to be expected. It seems the days of waking up at 5:00 are behind him as he’s woken by nightmares more often than not these days.
I really need to figure this shit out.
The nightmares hadn’t plagued him like this in years and he has no clue what triggers them. All he can do is use his extra waking hours productively. Or drink. And he had his fun with that already.
can’t believe I passed out in the doorway.
It isn’t long before he finds himself exiting the hotel through a side door. The crisp night air hits his face as the temperature is in the low 20’s. Luckily he’s dressed for it as he sports a black pair of under armour pants and a black Uprising hoodie. He’s also got a pair of air pods in his ears as he listens to a Spotify playlist. His first song of choice is Bullet for my Valentine’s You Want a Battle (here’s a war).
That’s fitting. I’m sure I’ll be going to war with Luther.
The struggle he’s heading into isn’t lost on him. He knows good and well that this may be the hardest match since his return to wrestling earlier this year. Of course his ego won’t allow him to give his opponent too much credit publicly. But he has no issue admitting his opponents impressive capabilities.
But it doesn’t matter how capable Luther is. I can’t let him beat me.
He begins his walk, this time with a destination in mind. He realized late last night he was out of his skoal wintergreen dip. Nasty habit, but he always justifies it with the fact that it’s not meth.
At least I won’t end up like Jeramie.
Marou pushes the thought from his mind. He doesn’t usually allow his head to wander towards thoughts of his late brother. With a literal shake, he moves on toward more pleasant thoughts.
Can’t believe Logan was able to work her way back into the tournament. That was pretty bad ass and well deserved. Fuckin proud of that girl.
Michael is still a little unsure about his feelings for her. They have become solid friends over the last few months. And those feelings of friendship have definitely evolved into something more. But he can’t help but wonder what the right move is. He just dumped Kacey Anders a few weeks ago because she was holding him back in his career. Is another relationship the right move?
It’s different with Logan though. For starters, she can hold her own in the ring way more then Anders ever could. Logan and I aren’t working as a tag team. And Logan isn’t a superficial, high-maintenance floozie. Heh… I’m honestly surprised my relationship with Anders lasted as long as it did. She’s definitely not my type. Logan is much more… real.
Either way, the internal monologue solves nothing. Marou believes that Logan has developed some feelings beyond friendship for him, but neither has really made a move yet.
As his thoughts jump from subject to subject like a Cirque Du Soleil act, he finds himself in the parking lot of a 24/7 truck stop. He heads into the store, appreciating the emptiness of it. At this time of night (morning?), the occupants of the store consist solely of the cashier. Michael approaches the counter, pulling his wallet from his pants pocket.
“Can I get a can of Skoal Wintergreen, please?”
“You save two bucks if you buy a roll.”
The cashier says matter of factly. Michael shrugs, he’s going to chew it either way so he might as well save the two bucks. He nods in agreement at the cashier, who then grabs a roll of five cans and rings it up.
“Hey, you’re Michael Marou right? From Uprising?”
Oh damn, here we go.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
The cashier smiles a bit, excited to have someone of fame in his store.
“I’ll be honest, I’m not a huge fan of wrestling. But my friend’s dad is part of the ring crew so I’ve watched Uprising. You guys do some great work!”
“Yeah, thanks man. I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, from what I’ve seen, you’re probably gonna get your ass kicked on the next show. No offense, but Luther is a beast!”
“Yeah.. okay dude.”
Michael tries to brush the guy off and leave, but the kid won’t stop talking.
“I don’t mean to be disrespectful or anything… Just that there’s no way Luther is getting knocked out of this thing.”
“Dude, you aren’t even a fan of wrestling. You don’t know shit about either of us.”
Damn it, why did I engage?
Michael kicks himself mentally for saying anything back to the kid. But the cat is out of the bag now, and it ain’t going back in.
“I’ve been keeping up on the message boards, and Twitter. That dude is a beast. And as good as you are, you’re not Luther Thunder.”
Michael sighs deeply, wishing he didn’t have to do this.
“Listen motherfucker, since you want to sound so educated, I’ll drop some knowledge on you. I’ve been busting my ass this year, working across four different federations. Undefeated in two of them. A champion in one of them. And a top star in the fourth one, which is pretty fuckin’ impressive since I haven’t even had a match there yet. I made a big enough impact before they went on hiatus that I’m still one of the most talked about wrestlers on the roster, and they haven't even seen me in their ring yet.”
Even as he was lashing out at the poor cashier, he knew he should reign it in some. But he’s never been all that great at controlling his temper. Once something sets him off, he has to let whoever is involved know what’s on his mind.
“As far as Luther goes, he’s a veteran with about thirteen years in the business. He’s got less life in him now. The wear and tear on his body has taken its toll. I would have beaten the Luther of 2007 and I’ll damn sure beat the guy now.”
In a huff, Michael grabs the roll of Skoal off the counter and storms out of the store, damn near hitting another incoming customer with the door as he explodes through it.
Damn it, that security footage better not end up on youtube or some shit.
Michael questions himself, wondering why he is the way that he is. Lashing out at a gas station attendant isn’t the best look. He really needs to work on his temper.
I’m just fuckin’ sick of everyone doubting me. I’ve earned more respect than that.
He shakes his head in annoyance as he fishes out a pinch of dip from his newly bought can. He stuffs the pinch into his bottom lip as he heads back toward the hotel. A quick check of his watch shows that about forty-five minutes have passed since he left the hotel room. What else can he do now to kill time?
TUESDAY 5:00 AM ~ ON CAMERA
It’s become a bit of tradition for those on the Uprising roster now; sitting up with a camera rolling in the hotel room. Most of the roster is housed in the same hotel, and many of the rooms are all set up the same, so the scene is very familiar. Michael mulls over the familiarity, wondering if it’s over done at this point. Though at this point, it doesn’t matter. The camera is already rolling as Michael sits on the couch, staring into the lens of his Iphone with his trademark grin.
“What is there to say about this upcoming match without sounding like a repetitive asshole? It seems like every other day, someone is making one of these videos, saying the same bullshit over and over again. Sounding like that tired ass song that Tim McGraw did with Nelly… its over and fucking over again. Ninety percent of the time, it’s Tirri babbling on about the same shit, but I imagine that’s because he sits in his fortress of solitude with nothing better to do then drink, smoke and bullshit. Well now it’s my turn to babble on, as I get ready to set foot in the ring again Luther Thunder in the semi finals of this hellacious tournament. This tournament has seen me beat Kendrick Kross and Chris Mosh. This tournament has seen Luther get a bye in the first round just to go on and beat Sam Warwick. This tournament has seen Don Tirri screw Logan Lewis out of her spot in the tournament, just to see her take the bull by the horns and get her spot back, leaving Tirri to bitch and moan like a twelve year old girl who can’t have the latest Iphone. Yet he has the audacity to call Logan a spoiled brat… But I digress. I’m not here to talk about Tirri’s woes of self hatred. I’m here to talk about my match.”
Michael can’t help but take shots at Tirri. When Michael first showed up in Uprising, he looked at Tirri a little differently. He knew Tirri was here to make an impact in the twilight of his career. He knew he wouldn’t be able to trust Tirri too much, as he’d stab him in the back to get an extra ten seconds in the spotlight. Of course Michael doesn’t blame Tirri for that; most wrestlers are the same way. But he did see a bit of friendly banter and a little innocence in Tirri. It wasn’t until the last show that Old School Cool really showed his true colors. Michael knows he’s on a collision course with Tirri that may or may not culminate in the finals of this tournament. But either way, that’s not what this is about.
“I’ll be honest, I fully expected to step into the semi-finals against Sam Warwick. Not a slight to Luther, but I know SAW’s background a bit more. We’re trained in the same classes of martial arts. About the same size and stature. Close to the same amount of experience. But as fate would have it, that match up won’t happen yet. Instead, I get the pleasure of taking out a thirteen year veteran in Luther Thunder.”
Michael leans forward on the couch with his elbows on his knees and his fingers laced together.
“See, Luthie. Since the end of the last show, you’ve jumped on Twitter a handful of times to offer me some advice. You appreciate my confidence, but also worry that I’m overlooking you. You admire my conviction, but say it might not be the wisest to bet on myself. See, you want me to be JUST confident enough to give you a good fight, but still ensure your victory.”
The grin turns to a bit of a cocky smirk as he rolls his eyes a little bit.
“Luthie, I know who you are. I know what you’re about. I know what you’re capable of. I know that if eighty percent of this roster stepped in the ring with you, you’d plow through them with ease. But I also know, I’m not them. I’m fuckin’ God-Tier talent. Now don’t take this wrong. I know what I’m up against. I know you’re about to give me the hardest match I’ve had since I stepped into Uprising. When I stepped against Kross, I gave him shit because I’m fifth seed and he was twelfth. When I went against Mosh, he was thirteenth. And I rubbed that in a bit, yanno. Just to get in their heads. To let them know that the powers that be in Uprising were counting them out before the tournament even started. To let Kross and Mosh know that I’m expected to beat them with ease. And now… the shoes on the other foot. I’m stepping into that ring against the number one seed. Does that mean that Brad Jackson and those secret entities above him have counted me out already?”
Michael shrugs a bit as he takes a sip from a water bottle. He nods his head ever so slightly as he pauses before speaking again.
“Perhaps so. Maybe I am expected to let Luther move on to the next round to face the other old man, the rookie, or the dragon But that’s the fun part, yeah? Because I’m counted out each and every time I step into a goddamn ring! Kross told me there was NO chance I was beating him. Mosh told me I’m a nice guy and he likes me, but he’s still gonna have to put me down. Every opponent I’ve had in Valiant has marked me off as an unintelligent meathead incapable of stringing two coherent thoughts together, let alone win in the ring. And what do I keep doing? Winning in the ring. Hell, check this out!”
Michael reaches down to the floor to grab something. As he comes back up, he shows his Valiant Chaos Championship to the camera.
“I took this title from another veteran in our business who disrespected and shit on everything this title once stood for. And I’ve already elevated this title beyond any prestige it’s had before. And look over at Dystopia. I’ve had two matches there. I took the fight to Mike Bishop, who said there was no way in hell I was beating him. Guess what I did? I beat him. And after that, we got a rematch in an Electric Steel Cage match. He told me there was no way I’d beat him a second time. Yanno what happened? I beat him a second goddamn time!”
Michael places the Chaos Title back down to the floor as he continues cutting his promo. He looks back to the camera with a fire in his eyes, obviously pissed that he continues to be discounted.
“But I’m not stepping into the ring against Two Belt Bishop now. I’m not going into the ring against Jackie Fowler. I’m not facing Kross, or Mosh or the fuckin hobo Boxcar Bob! I’m stepping into the ring again LUTHER MOTHERFUCKING THUNDER!”
He yells out his opponents name just a bit, giving some well deserved credit to who he’s stepping in the ring against.
“The Conquest Champion over at SRW. The thirteen year veteran! One of the few on our roster that could claim they’ve ‘forgotten more than the rookies will ever know!’ The one who can almost match Don Tirri in ‘back in my day’ monologues. The one with more miles behind him then in front of him. The one who’s clenching to the hope of one last big run before he withers away. Face it Luther. Your career is at death’s door. I have no delusions that I’ll be the one to end your career. In fact, I’ll go on to say that I don’t want to end your career. I think you’re valuable and you still have plenty to offer this industry. But I won’t deny that after our match, your career’s knocks on death’s door
will be just a little bit louder. Because while you’re hoping to get that one last big run on top, I’m just starting. And I’m not going to put my career on hold for the sake of an old man clinging to youth.”
The words were harsh, but they were intended to be. Michael knows these words will be hard to eat if he walks out of this match the loser. But if he walks out victorious like he intends to, these words will solidify to the world just who he is and what he’s about.
“Make no mistake Luther. I’m not underestimating you. I’m not looking down on you. I’m not counting you out. I’m aware of what you’re capable of and I’m aware that this will not be an easy victory for me. But it WILL be a victory for me. I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re staring at the lights from your back when this match is over. I won’t take the low road and mouth off about your lovely wife. I won’t take the shortcuts like putting my feet on the ropes like your ol’ pal Donny. I will beat you, fairly and cleanly, in the middle of the ring. If you want any hope of proving me wrong… you better bring the Thunder.”
He winks at the camera as he quips about Luther’s name. With that, he leans forward and hits the end button on the video, as he prepares to send the video off to the Uprising website. He’s as cocky as ever, and knows he’s going to the finals of this tournament; odds be damned.
WEDNESDAY 7:30 PM ~ OFF CAMERA
It was a cold day in Reno, just around 30 degrees outside, but that wasn't stopping Michael Marou and Logan Lewis from having a little fun. The pair were at an outside Go-Cart facility, each strapped into a cart. For Logan, forgetting the tirade of Don Tirri was important, as was getting to spend more time with Marou, who admittedly she was crushing on, even if she were yet to tell him or anyone.
Logan Lewis: “You're going down! So down, Marou!”
As they are given the okay to go ahead and start, Logan speeds off, trying to get ahead of Michael. A maniacal, over dramatic screaming laugh escapes the nineteen year old who grips the wheel of her car.
Logan Lewis: “EAT MY DUST!”
“Oo not today, Lewis! Get back here!”
Michael does his best to keep the pace with her but he finds himself just behind her as they come across the first turn. Logan makes sure to stay on the inside of the turn, not giving Michael time to get around her.
“This isn’t like Mario Kart! I’ll beat you this time!”
Logan Lewis: “You couldn't beat me then and you can't beat me now!”
Just as Michael was catching up, literally a pace behind her, she cuts him off, which causes him to bump into the back of her cart, sending them both bouncing up a bit but with Logan still ahead of him, laughing of course.
Logan Lewis: “Awww you thought didn't you?”
Stepping on the pedal harder, she tries to put more distance between them. Michael can’t help but grin. He’s been enjoying all the time spent with Logan and the playful yet competitive vibe she gives off has really drawn him to her.
“I beat you once!”
He yells out after her as he closes in again. Bumper to bumper, Marou accelerates a bit and tries to get her to lose control as he rear ends her.
“Didn’t expect me to play dirty did ya?”
The bump was enough to spin her out! Michael easily coasts by her now, leaving Logan to slap the wheel of her car, but there was no coming back now and she knew it.
Logan Lewis: “Well you are a dirty dog and that just proves it.”
The instructor tells her to restart her cart and drive it back to the starting point, which she does, and as she does, she unclasps her helmet and pulls it off, her blueish-gray hair blows in the wind now as she looks at Marou who was already out of his cart, extending a hand down to help her.
Logan Lewis: “I'm an independent woman thank you very much, I don't need a hand.”
She pushes herself out and hands her helmet to the instructor. Of course her eyes catch an ice cream stand just behind Marou, but she hasn't mentioned it yet.
Logan Lewis: “Hey if you're proud of that dirty win, then I salute you. But I'm pretty sure you knew I had you!”
Michael laughs, knowing she’s right.
“I told you I wouldn’t let you beat me here!”
Marou hands his own helmet off as he and Logan walk away from the go carts.
“What do you wanna do now? Or did you want me to win another race?”
He playfully bumps into her a bit as he continues he’s trash talk. He looks down at her just in time to see her roll her eyes a bit with a smile.
Logan Lewis: ‘You wouldn’t win again, trust me. I took it easy on you that time. But I think that last bump and spin was enough to retire me for the day. But next time! Oh next time...your ass is mine!”
Laughing, she looks up and directly over at the Carts & Cream Ice cream stand that was set up like most snowball stands. You simply walk up to the window and order.
Logan Lewis: “Ummm I mean there’s nothing better after ALMOST winning a race than drowning my would-be sorrows in vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup.”
“You took it easy on me? Why would you do that?”
Michael follows Logan's eyes and sees the ice cream stand. He starts walking toward it as he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet.
“Sprinkles too?”
Logan Lewis: “See now you’re redeeming yourself a bit. Just a little bit though.”
They reach the stand and order before moving to one of the socially distanced picnic tables outside. Sure it was thirty degrees, but they both were wearing jackets and it was a perfect day for ice cream otherwise. As they sit down, Logan digs her spoon into her chocolate syrup and sprinkle mounted scoop and looks up at Michael.
Logan Lewis: “Thank you. I know I’m usually wild and stuff, but you’ve been a good friend pretty much from day one. I needed this today. Like, needed needed it.”
Michael digs into his own ice cream as Logan talks. He listens to her closely before responding.
“Yeah, I know it’s been a rough couple weeks for ya. But you’re handling it well. And we all need some fun days like this.”
Of course Michael is referring to himself at this point as his mind drifts briefly to his recent string of nightmares. Though he doesn’t show it or confide in Logan.
“I just hope you aren’t letting Don get to ya. That’s his whole plan at this point.”
Logan Lewis: “I honestly was hurt by it all. I still am. But at the end of the day, I didn’t come here to make friends. Making them along the way is great, but I came here to begin my career, and him getting pissy over me doing what I feel is best for myself just shows that I’m in his head. Not the other way around.”
Of course he was in her head, but she wasn’t going to tell that to Michael, potentially her opponent in the finals should they both win.
Logan Lewis: “But you know what? This isn’t about him, or even the tournament, this is about us. I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me. You can admit it, I’m the prettiest girl in all of Reno.”
The outspoken rookie laughs a bit, looking up at Michael to see if he blushes or gives any hints away.
Logan Lewis: “Come on! Admit it!”
Michael does blush just a bit as he looks down at his ice cream. But the hint of embarrassment doesn’t last long as he looks back to her.
“Yeah, I admit it. Who knew I was so transparent?”
He smiles at her, not sure what to say next. For all of his confidence and bravado, he’s always struggled with talking about his feelings towards women he finds attractive. Not something he lets many people see.
“Fitting though, that you’d be here with the most handsome guy in Reno!”
Logan Lewis: “Really? Where is Chris Mosh? I don’t see him.”
Logan looks around a bit, teasing Marou before picking up her cup.
Logan Lewis: “But we should probably get out of here before we become human ice cream cones!”
She knew that the conversation was shifting towards her own feelings, and in typical Logan fashion, she wanted to keep things light hearted as she stands up, clutching that cup.
Michael stands up with her still laughing. One of the great things about Logan is she’s always able to make him laugh.
“Alright where should we go? Want me to drop you off with Mosh?”
Michael throws her a playful wink as they head back to the parking area. They head towards his black Dodge Charger and Michael, ever the gentlemen, opens the passenger door for Logan. Unlike with the Go-Karts, she doesn’t object to his act of chivalry this time as she gets into the car. He waits for her to be comfortably inside before closing the door for her. He smiles as he walks around the car towards the driver side.
“Fuck I’m definitely falling for this girl.”
He mutters under his breath with a bit of a happy sigh. He has a quick moment of unease as he thinks of the possibilities of facing her in the finals of the tournament, but that thought is fleeting as he goes back to enjoy the day with her.