Post by Old Line Jeff on Dec 16, 2021 9:12:59 GMT -5
“Daeriq.”
“In the flesh. You wanna introduce me to your friends here?” He gestured to the few fans with contempt.
“My original tag partner back in GLOBAL. Or maybe more accurately, GLOBAL’s indy days as GWF. We won the GWF Xtreme Tag Titles-”
“You know what? Forget it, no one cares. Let me hear more about this Greg Adkins fellow.”
Daeriq Damien pushed one of the fans off his seat, yanked another chair out from under a second fan, then sat down on the first and used the second as a footrest.
“You don’t come in here like this. Stand the fuck up.”
With a theatrical shrug, Damien stood. The fans, timid, not interested in standing up to a former wrestler, did nothing.
“Alright, bud, you got me. So Greg Adkins. He really sticks his finger in people’s butts?”
Ronnie closed his eyes, trying to sort his thoughts out.
“Yeah. He does. I’m not a submission guy, I added the thumb-to-the-throat to my moveset for a time just because all the other Untouchables had a submission finisher, but I’m not sure I ever actually used it in a match. Heidi was the mat wiz, and that’s what made me think.”
Damien said nothing. Ronnie continued.
“I was never really on board with the whole no-intergender, women stick to the women’s division thing. But just Imagine what would happen if Greg Adkins were wrestling a woman and decided to stick a finger where it had no business being. NPW would be history, Gus Arnold would be blackballed and spend the rest of his life paying fines. I’m not saying I agree, but I do understand where he’s coming from. Though to be honest I think I’d understand things a lot better if he just refused to hire the ptyalism-infected coprophile.”
The fans in attendance murmured. Damien said nothing, although one side of his mouth twisted up in a smirk.
“On the other hand, don’t get me wrong it won’t happen she’s ultra-retired, but Jesus Christ imagine what would happen if he tried it on Heidi. Maybe nothing, because being a woman she could probably murder him in the middle of the ring and get away with it if he went there. The ‘probably’ applies to the getting away with it. There’s no probably about her killing him.”
Light laughter. Including from Damien.
“Beautiful dreams in which I get to avoid physical contact aside though, I’ll fight him. Being disgusting is… well it’s disgusting like I said, but not painful, and so any time he tries something like that it just gives me an extra opening to hurt him. I said when I got here that I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything - not the Galactic Pirates, not the ReVenants, not the KGB, no one - run roughshod over NPW. What really gets me though, is that somehow Adkins is seen as this loveable scamp rather than a revolting pervert. I can’t make people dislike him, I know that, although I can hope that NPW’s fans have more taste. But, I can make sure no one ever takes him seriously again. Then, maybe if his weedy frame lives through a Western Lariat and I don’t catch Hep-C from him and have to retire, I can save the Phoenix Title from its humiliating existence. Though even after that it’ll need a good soak in bleach.”
Ronnie shook his head again.
“Why’re you running from me?”
Ronnie sighed. He hadn’t expected to be able to sneak back to his rental car without Daeriq Damien catching up to him, but he’d hoped.
“Because I don’t want you interfering in my career. Nothing good has ever come from it.” He refused to turn around, but could hear Damien’s dress shoes crunching against the asphalt of the parking lot.
“What was Lady Luck’s boyfriend’s name?”
And he stopped, and turned.
“Why would you ask me that?”
Damien smiled ingeniously.
“Vegas.”
“No, that was his wrestling name. What was his real name?”
“I don’t know. Neither do you.”
“Just seems to me…” Damien said, with forced casualness, “that if that whole incident really made such a permanent imprint on your psyche, you’d remember the man’s name. We killed his unborn son for chrissakes, and you don’t even know his name?”
Stop.
Breathe.
Ronnie Long closed his eyes. Lights of red and yellow danced on the backs of his eyelids. A wave of anger - pure anger, so intense he nearly stumbled, swept over him, snatching the breath from his lungs.
Maybe Daeriq Damien realized he’d gone too far. Maybe he was hamming it up for whatever reason.
“Well, at least you’ve helped make me certain that your reformed family man schtick in OLW was a crock.”
“It wasn’t, actually. And it’s not like you have much to worry about - as you were complaining about earlier, there is no intergender competition in NPW.”
“It wasn’t a match.”
“And although I know you don’t believe me, I’ve regretted it as much as you ever have. The thing I’ve tried to get you to understand is this.”
Daeriq Damien stepped forward and, with an index finger, raised Ronnie Long’s shades off his nose to his forehead, then met his eyes.
“We’re both going to hell for that, you know. It’s irredeemable. So instead of pretending like taking the high road can save you, why don’t you do something really noble and take the bullets? You can’t be the only person who doesn’t want to touch Greg Adkins. But, you can make sure you’re the only person who has to. How many groping poking fingers do you think you could break before the ref stops you? I bet all ten.”
“I could…”
Ronnie lowered his shades.
“...but I swore years ago that I would never be like you. So I’m not gonna.”
“In the flesh. You wanna introduce me to your friends here?” He gestured to the few fans with contempt.
“My original tag partner back in GLOBAL. Or maybe more accurately, GLOBAL’s indy days as GWF. We won the GWF Xtreme Tag Titles-”
“You know what? Forget it, no one cares. Let me hear more about this Greg Adkins fellow.”
Daeriq Damien pushed one of the fans off his seat, yanked another chair out from under a second fan, then sat down on the first and used the second as a footrest.
“You don’t come in here like this. Stand the fuck up.”
With a theatrical shrug, Damien stood. The fans, timid, not interested in standing up to a former wrestler, did nothing.
“Alright, bud, you got me. So Greg Adkins. He really sticks his finger in people’s butts?”
Ronnie closed his eyes, trying to sort his thoughts out.
“Yeah. He does. I’m not a submission guy, I added the thumb-to-the-throat to my moveset for a time just because all the other Untouchables had a submission finisher, but I’m not sure I ever actually used it in a match. Heidi was the mat wiz, and that’s what made me think.”
Damien said nothing. Ronnie continued.
“I was never really on board with the whole no-intergender, women stick to the women’s division thing. But just Imagine what would happen if Greg Adkins were wrestling a woman and decided to stick a finger where it had no business being. NPW would be history, Gus Arnold would be blackballed and spend the rest of his life paying fines. I’m not saying I agree, but I do understand where he’s coming from. Though to be honest I think I’d understand things a lot better if he just refused to hire the ptyalism-infected coprophile.”
The fans in attendance murmured. Damien said nothing, although one side of his mouth twisted up in a smirk.
“On the other hand, don’t get me wrong it won’t happen she’s ultra-retired, but Jesus Christ imagine what would happen if he tried it on Heidi. Maybe nothing, because being a woman she could probably murder him in the middle of the ring and get away with it if he went there. The ‘probably’ applies to the getting away with it. There’s no probably about her killing him.”
Light laughter. Including from Damien.
“Beautiful dreams in which I get to avoid physical contact aside though, I’ll fight him. Being disgusting is… well it’s disgusting like I said, but not painful, and so any time he tries something like that it just gives me an extra opening to hurt him. I said when I got here that I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything - not the Galactic Pirates, not the ReVenants, not the KGB, no one - run roughshod over NPW. What really gets me though, is that somehow Adkins is seen as this loveable scamp rather than a revolting pervert. I can’t make people dislike him, I know that, although I can hope that NPW’s fans have more taste. But, I can make sure no one ever takes him seriously again. Then, maybe if his weedy frame lives through a Western Lariat and I don’t catch Hep-C from him and have to retire, I can save the Phoenix Title from its humiliating existence. Though even after that it’ll need a good soak in bleach.”
Ronnie shook his head again.
“That’s all I’ve got. As Brad Andrews used to say, disengage the smacktalkulator.”
“Why’re you running from me?”
Ronnie sighed. He hadn’t expected to be able to sneak back to his rental car without Daeriq Damien catching up to him, but he’d hoped.
“Because I don’t want you interfering in my career. Nothing good has ever come from it.” He refused to turn around, but could hear Damien’s dress shoes crunching against the asphalt of the parking lot.
“What was Lady Luck’s boyfriend’s name?”
And he stopped, and turned.
“Why would you ask me that?”
Damien smiled ingeniously.
“Vegas.”
“No, that was his wrestling name. What was his real name?”
“I don’t know. Neither do you.”
“Just seems to me…” Damien said, with forced casualness, “that if that whole incident really made such a permanent imprint on your psyche, you’d remember the man’s name. We killed his unborn son for chrissakes, and you don’t even know his name?”
Stop.
Breathe.
Ronnie Long closed his eyes. Lights of red and yellow danced on the backs of his eyelids. A wave of anger - pure anger, so intense he nearly stumbled, swept over him, snatching the breath from his lungs.
Maybe Daeriq Damien realized he’d gone too far. Maybe he was hamming it up for whatever reason.
“Well, at least you’ve helped make me certain that your reformed family man schtick in OLW was a crock.”
“It wasn’t, actually. And it’s not like you have much to worry about - as you were complaining about earlier, there is no intergender competition in NPW.”
“It wasn’t a match.”
“And although I know you don’t believe me, I’ve regretted it as much as you ever have. The thing I’ve tried to get you to understand is this.”
Daeriq Damien stepped forward and, with an index finger, raised Ronnie Long’s shades off his nose to his forehead, then met his eyes.
“We’re both going to hell for that, you know. It’s irredeemable. So instead of pretending like taking the high road can save you, why don’t you do something really noble and take the bullets? You can’t be the only person who doesn’t want to touch Greg Adkins. But, you can make sure you’re the only person who has to. How many groping poking fingers do you think you could break before the ref stops you? I bet all ten.”
“I could…”
Ronnie lowered his shades.
“...but I swore years ago that I would never be like you. So I’m not gonna.”
