Post by Old Line Jeff on Dec 16, 2021 9:09:51 GMT -5
“You know, I never thought about it until just now…”
Her voice is like wilting honeysuckle.
In Georgia, in July, the heat and humidity is oppressive in a way that is hard for a northwesterner to imagine. Step out into the sunlight and it feels like you’re breathing through a washcloth. Clothing becomes damp and heavy and sticks to your skin within minutes, sweat tickles as it runs down your back and past the corner of your eye. Even the water is no escape - creeks and lakes are beginning to run dry, the surface water is hot, and the newly exposed silt smells musty and sick in the heavy air.
Ronnie Long sits, without a shirt let alone a trenchcoat, sweat glistening over his arms and torso. Even turning his head to look at his wife as she speaks is an effort.
“You talk about your old friends a lot, but in all this time, I don’t think you’ve talked much about your opponents.”
He sighed, sliding down further in his chair.
“And it seems to me…” She was unrelenting. “That maybe you should think about what it’s going to be like playing defense instead of offense. For a change.”
Those old memories aren’t precisely pleasant ones for him to recall.
Ronnie puts both hands over his face, partly to wipe back the sweat, partly because it helps his mind’s eye see things more clearly.
“Tom Sawyer.” He finally says.
Deanna says nothing.
“Heidi took special pleasure in torturing that poor kid. He was small enough that she could throw him around easily, his grasp of grappling was… way below what it would have had to have been to stand up to her. Instead of just twisting his limbs out of joint though, she kept throwing herself at him in backstage brawls. The kid would not lie down and die. She’d almost be satisfied, and then he’d push himself up on one arm and say something else, and that’s when I got involved.”
“He really was annoying. Immature, mouthy, conceited… but he didn’t mean any more harm than any wrestler could mean. I begged him to go home and give up while trying to cave his chest in with chops. Take a break, come back some place where Heidi didn’t exist. Tom was playing the role of the hero in his own head though, he wouldn’t bend. So… she eventually broke him. She pulverized some trinket of his, and that was the straw that broke the hero’s back.”
“I stood there like a stick and just watched as the spark faded from his eyes. That’s when I knew it didn’t matter if our stated intent was to hurt Eric Dane and his sycophants. Good men can follow the wrong leader. Bad people can make good decisions. In the end, we simply weren’t the good guys. I knew it from the beginning, but I tried to convince myself in... so many different ways.”
He lowered his hands, finally. The sun was painfully bright.
“HNDRXX - he reminds me of Tom Sawyer in some ways. Only without the childishness and the annoying parts. The man’s grounded, he’s had a rough life, and somehow, instead of making him bitter and spiteful, it made him pathologically incapable of standing down. No, let me rephrase that - incapable of giving up. Two completely different things.”
“Hm.” Deanna chuckled. “You sound fond of him. Feel like you could redeem Tom Sawyer through him?”
“Never talked to him once yet, but being on a tag team’s a responsibility I take seriously, even if this is just a one-off match. And yes, I do. The only thing that would really fix what I did to Sawyer would be to see him win a World Championship, but his whole camp’s out of the game. If I can step in front of the Pirates and take a few shots on HNDRXX’s behalf though, that’s a step in the right direction.”
He wiped his brow again. Sweat dripped.
“HNDRXX is in that same boat that Jay Stevens and Gordon Carlson are, but he’s had every chance to go sideways like Carlson did, and he’s never taken it. Or maybe he has, I don’t know what he’s done outside the XHF, but I go by what I see.”
Deanna runs a finger under the bandanna tying her hair back.
“Do any of your old enemies remind you of Takaru Matsui?”
An odd tremor along his spine, and Ronnie Long stood up. The sun was blazing bright.
“Matsui, I don’t know. His connections make me uneasy. He’s got history with that Donzig guy, and frankly? His is the group that makes me uneasy. Not the Pirates. I don’t have a bead on Takaru, not yet, but Donzig… I’ve seen that emptiness before. I remember what it felt like to be empty. Anger can be slaked, hatred can be ameliorated, but emptiness is something different. A man empty enough would set the world on fire just to experience warmth.”
“A man who wants to experience warmth could just move to Georgia.”
Ronnie smiled, but shook his head.
“There’s something developing in NPW. As much as I believe any promotion is richer without Eric Dane than with him, his departure left a void, and too many forces are converging on that empty spot. That’s how storms start. Donzig, HNDRXX, Jamester, the Dark Stars and Novas, even the Galactic Pirates… even myself I suppose.”
And just then, a cloud passed over the sun.
A thin, wispy white one, not thick enough to reduce the heat, but indicative of the weather changing.
“Please…”
He turned, surprised by the jagged edge of his wife’s voice.
“Don’t do anything… unnecessary. I couldn’t stand to lose you.”
Her voice is like wilting honeysuckle.
In Georgia, in July, the heat and humidity is oppressive in a way that is hard for a northwesterner to imagine. Step out into the sunlight and it feels like you’re breathing through a washcloth. Clothing becomes damp and heavy and sticks to your skin within minutes, sweat tickles as it runs down your back and past the corner of your eye. Even the water is no escape - creeks and lakes are beginning to run dry, the surface water is hot, and the newly exposed silt smells musty and sick in the heavy air.
Ronnie Long sits, without a shirt let alone a trenchcoat, sweat glistening over his arms and torso. Even turning his head to look at his wife as she speaks is an effort.
“You talk about your old friends a lot, but in all this time, I don’t think you’ve talked much about your opponents.”
He sighed, sliding down further in his chair.
“And it seems to me…” She was unrelenting. “That maybe you should think about what it’s going to be like playing defense instead of offense. For a change.”
Those old memories aren’t precisely pleasant ones for him to recall.
Ronnie puts both hands over his face, partly to wipe back the sweat, partly because it helps his mind’s eye see things more clearly.
“Tom Sawyer.” He finally says.
Deanna says nothing.
“Heidi took special pleasure in torturing that poor kid. He was small enough that she could throw him around easily, his grasp of grappling was… way below what it would have had to have been to stand up to her. Instead of just twisting his limbs out of joint though, she kept throwing herself at him in backstage brawls. The kid would not lie down and die. She’d almost be satisfied, and then he’d push himself up on one arm and say something else, and that’s when I got involved.”
“He really was annoying. Immature, mouthy, conceited… but he didn’t mean any more harm than any wrestler could mean. I begged him to go home and give up while trying to cave his chest in with chops. Take a break, come back some place where Heidi didn’t exist. Tom was playing the role of the hero in his own head though, he wouldn’t bend. So… she eventually broke him. She pulverized some trinket of his, and that was the straw that broke the hero’s back.”
“I stood there like a stick and just watched as the spark faded from his eyes. That’s when I knew it didn’t matter if our stated intent was to hurt Eric Dane and his sycophants. Good men can follow the wrong leader. Bad people can make good decisions. In the end, we simply weren’t the good guys. I knew it from the beginning, but I tried to convince myself in... so many different ways.”
He lowered his hands, finally. The sun was painfully bright.
“HNDRXX - he reminds me of Tom Sawyer in some ways. Only without the childishness and the annoying parts. The man’s grounded, he’s had a rough life, and somehow, instead of making him bitter and spiteful, it made him pathologically incapable of standing down. No, let me rephrase that - incapable of giving up. Two completely different things.”
“Hm.” Deanna chuckled. “You sound fond of him. Feel like you could redeem Tom Sawyer through him?”
“Never talked to him once yet, but being on a tag team’s a responsibility I take seriously, even if this is just a one-off match. And yes, I do. The only thing that would really fix what I did to Sawyer would be to see him win a World Championship, but his whole camp’s out of the game. If I can step in front of the Pirates and take a few shots on HNDRXX’s behalf though, that’s a step in the right direction.”
He wiped his brow again. Sweat dripped.
“HNDRXX is in that same boat that Jay Stevens and Gordon Carlson are, but he’s had every chance to go sideways like Carlson did, and he’s never taken it. Or maybe he has, I don’t know what he’s done outside the XHF, but I go by what I see.”
Deanna runs a finger under the bandanna tying her hair back.
“Do any of your old enemies remind you of Takaru Matsui?”
An odd tremor along his spine, and Ronnie Long stood up. The sun was blazing bright.
“Matsui, I don’t know. His connections make me uneasy. He’s got history with that Donzig guy, and frankly? His is the group that makes me uneasy. Not the Pirates. I don’t have a bead on Takaru, not yet, but Donzig… I’ve seen that emptiness before. I remember what it felt like to be empty. Anger can be slaked, hatred can be ameliorated, but emptiness is something different. A man empty enough would set the world on fire just to experience warmth.”
“A man who wants to experience warmth could just move to Georgia.”
Ronnie smiled, but shook his head.
“There’s something developing in NPW. As much as I believe any promotion is richer without Eric Dane than with him, his departure left a void, and too many forces are converging on that empty spot. That’s how storms start. Donzig, HNDRXX, Jamester, the Dark Stars and Novas, even the Galactic Pirates… even myself I suppose.”
And just then, a cloud passed over the sun.
A thin, wispy white one, not thick enough to reduce the heat, but indicative of the weather changing.
“Please…”
He turned, surprised by the jagged edge of his wife’s voice.
“Don’t do anything… unnecessary. I couldn’t stand to lose you.”
