Post by Deleted on Nov 16, 2020 16:52:25 GMT -5
I wake up in a jolt. Sweaty. It’s too hot. It’s always too hot here in the desert.
“Wait...”
I’m not in the desert. Well... not that desert. Reno. Not Iraq. I have to remind myself several times, talking myself down. That was just a dream. I’m fucking sick of having these dreams. They happen far too often these days. It’s been over eight years. Why do they still happen? Maybe I should find a therapist. Heh... not likely. What time is it anyway? I sit up on the bed... no. Couch. I’m on a couch. I’m on Logan’s couch. I look over and see her in her hotel room bed. I can see her in the lumination of the alarm clock. She’s sleeping peacefully in her oversized sweatshirt. I should be quiet. Don’t want to wake her. I glance at the clock and realize it’s almost 4:30 am. I might as well stay up. I slowly and quietly sit up from the couch. At the moment I only have my black basketball shorts on. I reach to the floor to pick up my shirt from the night before and slip it on. I grab my duffel bag and rummage through it, looking for my toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant. I quickly go through the morning routine of getting ready before slipping on some socks and my running shoes. I glance over at Logan, wondering if I should wake her. I decide against it. I need to clear my head. I grab a bottle of water as I exit the hotel room. I follow the signs pointing me toward the hotels fitness center.
As I march my way along, I try to forget the dream. It’s always the same dream though. Not even a dream. A movie where I get to relive the worst day of my life. That day will always haunt me. Start thinking of other shit, Marou. Dwelling on the past won’t change it. The break up. Heh. Funny that a break up can be considered such a bad day for most, but it’s what my mind jumps to when I need to think of something besides the hard shit.
I think I can thank Logan for the break up. I don’t mean that in a bad way. She helped me to realize that Kacey Anders was holding me back personally and professionally. No fault of her own. We just didn’t click. I tried to make it work but deep down I knew it wouldn’t. Now I’m free to do my own thing, not tied down professionally. Anyways...
After what feels like I finally find myself in the fitness center. It’s small, but it’ll do. I take a swig of my water bottle as I put on some ear buds. I go to Spotify on my phone and get my workout playlist going, starting with some Five Finger Death Punch. I head to the treadmill, starting the workout with some cardio.
“Wait...”
I’m not in the desert. Well... not that desert. Reno. Not Iraq. I have to remind myself several times, talking myself down. That was just a dream. I’m fucking sick of having these dreams. They happen far too often these days. It’s been over eight years. Why do they still happen? Maybe I should find a therapist. Heh... not likely. What time is it anyway? I sit up on the bed... no. Couch. I’m on a couch. I’m on Logan’s couch. I look over and see her in her hotel room bed. I can see her in the lumination of the alarm clock. She’s sleeping peacefully in her oversized sweatshirt. I should be quiet. Don’t want to wake her. I glance at the clock and realize it’s almost 4:30 am. I might as well stay up. I slowly and quietly sit up from the couch. At the moment I only have my black basketball shorts on. I reach to the floor to pick up my shirt from the night before and slip it on. I grab my duffel bag and rummage through it, looking for my toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant. I quickly go through the morning routine of getting ready before slipping on some socks and my running shoes. I glance over at Logan, wondering if I should wake her. I decide against it. I need to clear my head. I grab a bottle of water as I exit the hotel room. I follow the signs pointing me toward the hotels fitness center.
As I march my way along, I try to forget the dream. It’s always the same dream though. Not even a dream. A movie where I get to relive the worst day of my life. That day will always haunt me. Start thinking of other shit, Marou. Dwelling on the past won’t change it. The break up. Heh. Funny that a break up can be considered such a bad day for most, but it’s what my mind jumps to when I need to think of something besides the hard shit.
I think I can thank Logan for the break up. I don’t mean that in a bad way. She helped me to realize that Kacey Anders was holding me back personally and professionally. No fault of her own. We just didn’t click. I tried to make it work but deep down I knew it wouldn’t. Now I’m free to do my own thing, not tied down professionally. Anyways...
After what feels like I finally find myself in the fitness center. It’s small, but it’ll do. I take a swig of my water bottle as I put on some ear buds. I go to Spotify on my phone and get my workout playlist going, starting with some Five Finger Death Punch. I head to the treadmill, starting the workout with some cardio.
One hour later
Drenched in sweat, I grab my phone out of my pocket. During my workout, I realized I have a few things to say. I decide to take s page out of Logan’s book and record a video promo on my phone. I get the camera open and face it towards me, adjusting to make sure my overly large head fits in the frame. Heh. I’m hilarious.
“Kendrick Kross. You’ve been pretty outspoken. Claiming that I don’t have a chance to beat you. And I suppose you might be right. But the promoter seems to feel a little different. I’m fifth seed. Your twelfth. Now I could go on about that but let’s be real. We know those particular numbers by our name don’t matter. In that ring, anything can happen. The numbers that really matter are those win/loss records. How’s yours look? Mine is pretty simple. I’ve only been pinned twice since my return to wrestling this year. One of those pins, I found myself in a four on one situation. Got my ass kicked, I’ll admit. The other pin? I ate it after a distraction and outside interference.”
I grit my teeth a bit. If I’m being honest, I’m still pissed about those losses.
“But does that even matter? Maybe this match will come down to who wants it more. You think you have to win this match. You have to win this tournament. You have to be the first Uprising World Champ. The fate of the company depends on it. Kendrick Kross as champion will put the eyes of every wrestling fan in North America on Uprising. But just one question... who the fuck are you?”
I chuckle a bit as I stare into the lens on my phone. Fire in my voice and anger on my face.
“See, this is a big opportunity for me. I’m not blind to that. I have to go through the best that Uprising has to win this tournament. But when I do, it’ll be worth it. Because I’ve never held a world title. I’ve never represented a company. Instead I’ve been held back and pushed down. That changes now. I will stand tall as the first Uprising Champion and it will be my first world championship.”
I smile as I picture that reality.
“You can brush me off, Kross. You can underestimate me. You can run your mouth with Twitter banter. It’s all good. But when we step into that ring, you’ll realize two things. One, that was a big mistake. And two, you’re just not all that you think you are. Uprising will thrive just fine with me on top. And you’re the first rung on that ladder.”
With that, I hit the end button. I prepare to send it off to the Twitter feed as I get up and head out of the gym. Maybe Logan is awake now.
Drenched in sweat, I grab my phone out of my pocket. During my workout, I realized I have a few things to say. I decide to take s page out of Logan’s book and record a video promo on my phone. I get the camera open and face it towards me, adjusting to make sure my overly large head fits in the frame. Heh. I’m hilarious.
“Kendrick Kross. You’ve been pretty outspoken. Claiming that I don’t have a chance to beat you. And I suppose you might be right. But the promoter seems to feel a little different. I’m fifth seed. Your twelfth. Now I could go on about that but let’s be real. We know those particular numbers by our name don’t matter. In that ring, anything can happen. The numbers that really matter are those win/loss records. How’s yours look? Mine is pretty simple. I’ve only been pinned twice since my return to wrestling this year. One of those pins, I found myself in a four on one situation. Got my ass kicked, I’ll admit. The other pin? I ate it after a distraction and outside interference.”
I grit my teeth a bit. If I’m being honest, I’m still pissed about those losses.
“But does that even matter? Maybe this match will come down to who wants it more. You think you have to win this match. You have to win this tournament. You have to be the first Uprising World Champ. The fate of the company depends on it. Kendrick Kross as champion will put the eyes of every wrestling fan in North America on Uprising. But just one question... who the fuck are you?”
I chuckle a bit as I stare into the lens on my phone. Fire in my voice and anger on my face.
“See, this is a big opportunity for me. I’m not blind to that. I have to go through the best that Uprising has to win this tournament. But when I do, it’ll be worth it. Because I’ve never held a world title. I’ve never represented a company. Instead I’ve been held back and pushed down. That changes now. I will stand tall as the first Uprising Champion and it will be my first world championship.”
I smile as I picture that reality.
“You can brush me off, Kross. You can underestimate me. You can run your mouth with Twitter banter. It’s all good. But when we step into that ring, you’ll realize two things. One, that was a big mistake. And two, you’re just not all that you think you are. Uprising will thrive just fine with me on top. And you’re the first rung on that ladder.”
With that, I hit the end button. I prepare to send it off to the Twitter feed as I get up and head out of the gym. Maybe Logan is awake now.