Post by tigermaskred on Jul 2, 2017 19:22:20 GMT
He resisted the urge to light a cigarette as he exited the taxi. It was a habit he had vowed to quit and yet after six months of being free of the cancer sticks he found himself wrestling with the urge to reach into his pocket and light his third one in the last hour.
It was amazing how much your life could change in a month. Four weeks ago he was was living with the woman he loved, tucking his son in with bedtime stories and looking forward to the birth of the twins. Now though, he only got to see his son through video chats and his wife barely even spoke to him. Instead of returning home after a long trip, he found himself checking into a dump like this to save some money.
The sound of a car door slamming shut and someone cursing made him turn around. Dave Flynn awkwardly walked around the taxi and helped the driver pull their luggage from the trunk. Dave caught his eye and offered him a goofy grin. He just sighed and turned back towards the hotel.
The man known to the world as Tiger Mask Red knew better to ask himself how it had come to this. He damn well knew how it had happened and it was all his damn fault. With the mask on Tiger Mask Red might portray himself to be a hero to the fan but the man beneath the mask, Eli Buchanan, was an asshole and karma had finally caught up to him.
Grabbing his suitcase from his cousin, he walked into the hotel and he retrieved the key cards to their room. Dave tried to chat with him as they started to their room but he chose not to talk. Thankfully the walk up then stairs ended his cousin's prattling and Dave was sucking wind by the time they made it to their third floor room. An insert of the key card and a turn of the door handle later and they were in.
"Hey, we've got two beds," Dave announced, dropping his suitcase on the closest one.
Thank God, Tiger thought, tossing his on the other bed. The last hotel room they shared only had one. Tiger ended up sleeping on the floor because of Dave constantly rolled around in his sleep. If Dave had kicked him one more him something violent would have happened.
"You want to get anything to eat," Dave asked, as he pulled out some of his essentials.
Tiger simply shook his head and headed to the washroom and slammed the door behind him. The long ride from the airport had played havoc with his bladder and every bump on the road had been torture.
He exited a few minutes later feeling less tense and five pounds later. Dave was there waiting for him, a bottle of water in one hand and some pills in the other. Tiger thought of arguing, a month ago he would of, but there was little fight left in him. He grabbed the pills and tossed them in his mouth, washing them down with the water. He then walked back to his bed and then laid down.
Dave stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. Both knew he was a glorified babysitter these days, there to make sure he staid out of trouble and took his medication. Neither of them were happy with the situation but it had become a necessity,
"I'm going for some tacos across the street," he told Tiger, "Do you want anything?"
"Bring me back a hotdog and a beer."
"Dude, we're in Mexico!"
"Fine, make it a hot dog on a tortilla and bring me back a cereza."
He heard his cousin grumble as he left the room. Maybe he should have went with him, he thought, as the door slammed shut. Dave didn't speak much Spanish, the locals would probably take advantage of him. Tiger wouldn't be surprised if his cousin returned with a bunch of cheap souvenir, or, worse yet, enchiladas.
"I'm in hell," he groaned, propping a pillow beneath his head.
And who's fault is that, he thought to himself. Turned on his best friend, ruined his sister's wedding, betrayed a friend who might as well have been his sister. Yeah, he was a real piece of work, no wonder Charlotte had kicked him out. He probably would have done the same thing.
His stomach began to grumble with displeasure and he wondered if he should go find Dave. It had been hours since he ate. He was hungry enough that he might actually eat tacos, maybe.
Swearing under his breath, he sat up and started rummaging through his bag. There was a chocolate bar in there somewhere, he might need it if Dave got himself kidnapped before bringing back food.
His froze as his eyes locked onto the envelope, hastily packed and bent around the edges. All thoughts of hunger, cigarettes or Dave disappeared from his mind as he picked it up and stares at it like he had done every night for the past three weeks. Inside was a letter that he had read dozens of times but he felt compelled to read yet again. Opening the envelope, he pulled the letter out and raised it to his nose. Maybe it was his imagination but he thought he could smell her on the paper, as if it was sprayed with her favorite perfume, but that was absurd. This was a "Dear John" letter, not a note between two starcrossed lovers. Despite himself, he unfolded the letter and read it once more even though he had it memorized by now.
"Dear Eli,
This letter should find you in Dallas, Texas and I've tasked Dave with hand delivering it to you. I'll make this brief and to the point, I can no longer turn a blind eye to your actions in recent month. Your petty wars with Jacob and your father have torn our family apart and your behavior in recent weeks has become more erratic and frightening at times. It's clear that you've stopped taking your medications and that your mental health has started to deteriorate once more.
Eli, we have twins on the way and there is little Haruto to think about. The thought of what you're allowing yourself to become once more frightens me and I fear for both my safety and theirs. Therefore I must tell you that you're not welcome home until you get the help you so desperately need and make some changes in your life.
I've asked Dave to act as our go between. He will accompany you while you are on the road wrestling, since that seems to be what you're determined to do. Three times a week you will be required to meet with a psychiatrist, because of your schedule I will permit one or two of these appointments to be through online video conferencing, however, you must physically attend at least one of these appointments in person and you must follow all his directions.
Dave will monitor your progress for me. If you follow through with the appointment and take the medications regularly that he prescribes, we can discuss you being able to return home. There is one more thing though that must be done before this can happen though. You must make amends with Jacob and Holly, they are our family and it is very important that they be allowed to be in our children's lives. If you can do this for me, then I know that you are serious about not only getting better but also making his family work as well.
I realize reading this must hurt you greatly and I want you to know that I still love you very much. Please do what I ask and get better so you can return home.
Your's always,
Charlie."
Once he finished reading it, he folded it back up and placed it back in the envelope. Taking care this time, he placed it in a side pocket on his bag and placed his luggage on the floor.
He had done as she asked and started attending appointments with Dr Robert Hartley, as often as possible and had tolerated the multiple antipsychotic medications prescribed to him. All that been easy. What hadn't been though was trying to mend the fences he had destroyed. Holly had only recently agreed to meet him for coffee so they could speak in person; to say it didn't go smoothly would be an understatement, but it was a start.
Her husband, his former friend, Jacob Hammerstein though, that was another story. Hammerstein rarely answered his phone calls and the few times he had, he hung up the moment he heard the voice of the man who had stabbed him in the back. Not that he blamed Hammerstein, not at all.
So lost in thought, he didn't hear Dave enter the room. He jumped when his cousin tossed him a package and flopped down on the other bed.
"Eat up," Dave said, "you've got a promo to cut for your match with Bronx."
Opening the package, he found a pair of tacos. He was about to protest but Dave held up hand.
"Don't even start with me. After what I had to go through just to get them, you'll eat them and I don't want to hear a word out of you!"
He looked back down at the tacos before him and sighed.
"I really am in Hell."
***
So Bronx, our match is being touted by Nirvana as being a dream match, 4CW Champion vs GOL Hall of Famer. The way the old man is promoting this match you would think we're two of the biggest stars of all time and that we're the real main event. The sad thing is though, that couldn't be farther from the truth.
This is no shot at you, Bronx. You are truly one of the top performers in our industry today and if this is truly your final match outside your home turf, then I feel blessed for the opportunity. See this is about me though, compared to you I'm a bit of a nobody. Don't misunderstand me, I'm not putting myself down here, I'm simply reiterating what I've been hearing for nearly two months since this match was announced. I've heard a lot saying " Who even is Tiger Mask Red," and those people who know who I am have been telling me for the last two months that this proves that I'm not on your level. That because I haven't faced the same people that you've face, because I haven't beaten the people that you've beaten, the result of our match at 'I'm Batman' is a forgone conclusion.
While you were kicking ass and taking names in some of the biggest companies out there, I've been working on small shows trying to make a name for myself and help those little companies grow. That's not a big deal though right? I mean Rocky beat Creed, that proves anything can happen. Except this is real life people tell me, fairy tales don't come true., Davids don't beat Goliaths. It has been pointed out to me more times than I can count that I can't win the big one. Everytime I find myself in a big match situation, I lose. Some would say I choke, others that I'm just not good enough. If I had a dollar for every time someone told me I was a "good hand" or a B+ player, I'd be a rich man.
So let me ask you something. Why the fuck would anyone say that this is a dream match? One of the very best competing in our industry today, against a masked guy who's only claim to fame is winning titles in companies that couldn't keep their doors open for six months and retiring at twenty two before making a comeback. I've got two Hall of Fame rings, one for a company that's dead because it wasn't "serious" enough for people, the other, GOL, because for some reason they thought it made more sense to put me in instead of Avery Miles III, who carried this company on his shoulders for nearly a year. Nirvana, the old man who's being promoting this match, that dust farting dinosaur is trying to create for himself some good after spending decades of doing some of the most dastardly of things, like abandon me, his own flesh and blood, when I was eight years old. His word means shit to me and I damn well don't buy it when he calls this a dream match. For all I know he's hoping you'll put me back on the shelf and he'll never have to see me again.
So after saying all this, you're probably wondering why I'm even going to show up. The answer is simple. To me this is just another fight in The Labyrinth and I'm defending what's mine. From the day Guerreros de Lucha opened its doors I've made it know that this was my home. I've never shied away from a fight and I damn well aren't doing to start now.
Bronx, I ain't going to bore you, the last weeks have been some of the worst of my life. From the day I returned to this company I've made it known I have but one goal, and that is to become the Rey de Reyes Champion and it's felt like those in power around here have put roadblock after roadblock and now I find myself feeling like I've got my back up against a wall. With all the garbage going on in my personal life and with the pressure being put on me to either succeed or fail, the Tiger Mask Red that you find yourself against is the most desperate that I've ever been. This is all I've got left right now, Bronx and that makes me very dangerous.
So, excuse me when I say that I don't give a fuck about what you've accomplished. I don't give a damn how many titles you've down and sure as hell don't care you came in third place in some tournament that the winners never saw a dime for. You can take everything I've ever done as and toss it aside as well. What we've done before this moment doesn't matter. Whoever said you're only as good as your last match was lying because in truth you're as good as your next match and maybe I'm fooling myself and I'm full of shit but my next match is going to be my best to date.
This Sunday, when I get in the ring with you, I'm going to win or so help me God, they're going to have to carry me out on a damn stretcher. For you this is one last hurrah before you go off to set your full attention on your career in 4CW. For me though, I'll be fighting like my life depends on it. An injured animals is most dangerous when he's been cornered, so Bronx, you better prepared for the fight of your life or get out of my way, man.
To those of my colleges and all those fans out there who've been playing naysayer, all I've got to say is you better be watching what happens at "I am Batman'. You better tune in on your television or better yet get your ass down to The Labyrinth and watch first hand what transpires. You will see a 'dream match' like no other and you can all kiss my ass because when I beat Bronx and all the GOL faithful stand and cheer me on, I will have proved just how good I am.
Give me victory, or give me Valhalla! Bronx, I'll see you in the ring.
***
"Hey Jacob, it's me Tiger... it's Eli. I know what I've done to you in the past, there's no excuse for it. I'm not asking you to forgive me, I just want to sit down and talk. Please, call me. Bye."
His fingers froze when they touch something familiar. All thoughts of the chocolate bar or his stomach M
It was amazing how much your life could change in a month. Four weeks ago he was was living with the woman he loved, tucking his son in with bedtime stories and looking forward to the birth of the twins. Now though, he only got to see his son through video chats and his wife barely even spoke to him. Instead of returning home after a long trip, he found himself checking into a dump like this to save some money.
The sound of a car door slamming shut and someone cursing made him turn around. Dave Flynn awkwardly walked around the taxi and helped the driver pull their luggage from the trunk. Dave caught his eye and offered him a goofy grin. He just sighed and turned back towards the hotel.
The man known to the world as Tiger Mask Red knew better to ask himself how it had come to this. He damn well knew how it had happened and it was all his damn fault. With the mask on Tiger Mask Red might portray himself to be a hero to the fan but the man beneath the mask, Eli Buchanan, was an asshole and karma had finally caught up to him.
Grabbing his suitcase from his cousin, he walked into the hotel and he retrieved the key cards to their room. Dave tried to chat with him as they started to their room but he chose not to talk. Thankfully the walk up then stairs ended his cousin's prattling and Dave was sucking wind by the time they made it to their third floor room. An insert of the key card and a turn of the door handle later and they were in.
"Hey, we've got two beds," Dave announced, dropping his suitcase on the closest one.
Thank God, Tiger thought, tossing his on the other bed. The last hotel room they shared only had one. Tiger ended up sleeping on the floor because of Dave constantly rolled around in his sleep. If Dave had kicked him one more him something violent would have happened.
"You want to get anything to eat," Dave asked, as he pulled out some of his essentials.
Tiger simply shook his head and headed to the washroom and slammed the door behind him. The long ride from the airport had played havoc with his bladder and every bump on the road had been torture.
He exited a few minutes later feeling less tense and five pounds later. Dave was there waiting for him, a bottle of water in one hand and some pills in the other. Tiger thought of arguing, a month ago he would of, but there was little fight left in him. He grabbed the pills and tossed them in his mouth, washing them down with the water. He then walked back to his bed and then laid down.
Dave stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. Both knew he was a glorified babysitter these days, there to make sure he staid out of trouble and took his medication. Neither of them were happy with the situation but it had become a necessity,
"I'm going for some tacos across the street," he told Tiger, "Do you want anything?"
"Bring me back a hotdog and a beer."
"Dude, we're in Mexico!"
"Fine, make it a hot dog on a tortilla and bring me back a cereza."
He heard his cousin grumble as he left the room. Maybe he should have went with him, he thought, as the door slammed shut. Dave didn't speak much Spanish, the locals would probably take advantage of him. Tiger wouldn't be surprised if his cousin returned with a bunch of cheap souvenir, or, worse yet, enchiladas.
"I'm in hell," he groaned, propping a pillow beneath his head.
And who's fault is that, he thought to himself. Turned on his best friend, ruined his sister's wedding, betrayed a friend who might as well have been his sister. Yeah, he was a real piece of work, no wonder Charlotte had kicked him out. He probably would have done the same thing.
His stomach began to grumble with displeasure and he wondered if he should go find Dave. It had been hours since he ate. He was hungry enough that he might actually eat tacos, maybe.
Swearing under his breath, he sat up and started rummaging through his bag. There was a chocolate bar in there somewhere, he might need it if Dave got himself kidnapped before bringing back food.
His froze as his eyes locked onto the envelope, hastily packed and bent around the edges. All thoughts of hunger, cigarettes or Dave disappeared from his mind as he picked it up and stares at it like he had done every night for the past three weeks. Inside was a letter that he had read dozens of times but he felt compelled to read yet again. Opening the envelope, he pulled the letter out and raised it to his nose. Maybe it was his imagination but he thought he could smell her on the paper, as if it was sprayed with her favorite perfume, but that was absurd. This was a "Dear John" letter, not a note between two starcrossed lovers. Despite himself, he unfolded the letter and read it once more even though he had it memorized by now.
"Dear Eli,
This letter should find you in Dallas, Texas and I've tasked Dave with hand delivering it to you. I'll make this brief and to the point, I can no longer turn a blind eye to your actions in recent month. Your petty wars with Jacob and your father have torn our family apart and your behavior in recent weeks has become more erratic and frightening at times. It's clear that you've stopped taking your medications and that your mental health has started to deteriorate once more.
Eli, we have twins on the way and there is little Haruto to think about. The thought of what you're allowing yourself to become once more frightens me and I fear for both my safety and theirs. Therefore I must tell you that you're not welcome home until you get the help you so desperately need and make some changes in your life.
I've asked Dave to act as our go between. He will accompany you while you are on the road wrestling, since that seems to be what you're determined to do. Three times a week you will be required to meet with a psychiatrist, because of your schedule I will permit one or two of these appointments to be through online video conferencing, however, you must physically attend at least one of these appointments in person and you must follow all his directions.
Dave will monitor your progress for me. If you follow through with the appointment and take the medications regularly that he prescribes, we can discuss you being able to return home. There is one more thing though that must be done before this can happen though. You must make amends with Jacob and Holly, they are our family and it is very important that they be allowed to be in our children's lives. If you can do this for me, then I know that you are serious about not only getting better but also making his family work as well.
I realize reading this must hurt you greatly and I want you to know that I still love you very much. Please do what I ask and get better so you can return home.
Your's always,
Charlie."
Once he finished reading it, he folded it back up and placed it back in the envelope. Taking care this time, he placed it in a side pocket on his bag and placed his luggage on the floor.
He had done as she asked and started attending appointments with Dr Robert Hartley, as often as possible and had tolerated the multiple antipsychotic medications prescribed to him. All that been easy. What hadn't been though was trying to mend the fences he had destroyed. Holly had only recently agreed to meet him for coffee so they could speak in person; to say it didn't go smoothly would be an understatement, but it was a start.
Her husband, his former friend, Jacob Hammerstein though, that was another story. Hammerstein rarely answered his phone calls and the few times he had, he hung up the moment he heard the voice of the man who had stabbed him in the back. Not that he blamed Hammerstein, not at all.
So lost in thought, he didn't hear Dave enter the room. He jumped when his cousin tossed him a package and flopped down on the other bed.
"Eat up," Dave said, "you've got a promo to cut for your match with Bronx."
Opening the package, he found a pair of tacos. He was about to protest but Dave held up hand.
"Don't even start with me. After what I had to go through just to get them, you'll eat them and I don't want to hear a word out of you!"
He looked back down at the tacos before him and sighed.
"I really am in Hell."
***
So Bronx, our match is being touted by Nirvana as being a dream match, 4CW Champion vs GOL Hall of Famer. The way the old man is promoting this match you would think we're two of the biggest stars of all time and that we're the real main event. The sad thing is though, that couldn't be farther from the truth.
This is no shot at you, Bronx. You are truly one of the top performers in our industry today and if this is truly your final match outside your home turf, then I feel blessed for the opportunity. See this is about me though, compared to you I'm a bit of a nobody. Don't misunderstand me, I'm not putting myself down here, I'm simply reiterating what I've been hearing for nearly two months since this match was announced. I've heard a lot saying " Who even is Tiger Mask Red," and those people who know who I am have been telling me for the last two months that this proves that I'm not on your level. That because I haven't faced the same people that you've face, because I haven't beaten the people that you've beaten, the result of our match at 'I'm Batman' is a forgone conclusion.
While you were kicking ass and taking names in some of the biggest companies out there, I've been working on small shows trying to make a name for myself and help those little companies grow. That's not a big deal though right? I mean Rocky beat Creed, that proves anything can happen. Except this is real life people tell me, fairy tales don't come true., Davids don't beat Goliaths. It has been pointed out to me more times than I can count that I can't win the big one. Everytime I find myself in a big match situation, I lose. Some would say I choke, others that I'm just not good enough. If I had a dollar for every time someone told me I was a "good hand" or a B+ player, I'd be a rich man.
So let me ask you something. Why the fuck would anyone say that this is a dream match? One of the very best competing in our industry today, against a masked guy who's only claim to fame is winning titles in companies that couldn't keep their doors open for six months and retiring at twenty two before making a comeback. I've got two Hall of Fame rings, one for a company that's dead because it wasn't "serious" enough for people, the other, GOL, because for some reason they thought it made more sense to put me in instead of Avery Miles III, who carried this company on his shoulders for nearly a year. Nirvana, the old man who's being promoting this match, that dust farting dinosaur is trying to create for himself some good after spending decades of doing some of the most dastardly of things, like abandon me, his own flesh and blood, when I was eight years old. His word means shit to me and I damn well don't buy it when he calls this a dream match. For all I know he's hoping you'll put me back on the shelf and he'll never have to see me again.
So after saying all this, you're probably wondering why I'm even going to show up. The answer is simple. To me this is just another fight in The Labyrinth and I'm defending what's mine. From the day Guerreros de Lucha opened its doors I've made it know that this was my home. I've never shied away from a fight and I damn well aren't doing to start now.
Bronx, I ain't going to bore you, the last weeks have been some of the worst of my life. From the day I returned to this company I've made it known I have but one goal, and that is to become the Rey de Reyes Champion and it's felt like those in power around here have put roadblock after roadblock and now I find myself feeling like I've got my back up against a wall. With all the garbage going on in my personal life and with the pressure being put on me to either succeed or fail, the Tiger Mask Red that you find yourself against is the most desperate that I've ever been. This is all I've got left right now, Bronx and that makes me very dangerous.
So, excuse me when I say that I don't give a fuck about what you've accomplished. I don't give a damn how many titles you've down and sure as hell don't care you came in third place in some tournament that the winners never saw a dime for. You can take everything I've ever done as and toss it aside as well. What we've done before this moment doesn't matter. Whoever said you're only as good as your last match was lying because in truth you're as good as your next match and maybe I'm fooling myself and I'm full of shit but my next match is going to be my best to date.
This Sunday, when I get in the ring with you, I'm going to win or so help me God, they're going to have to carry me out on a damn stretcher. For you this is one last hurrah before you go off to set your full attention on your career in 4CW. For me though, I'll be fighting like my life depends on it. An injured animals is most dangerous when he's been cornered, so Bronx, you better prepared for the fight of your life or get out of my way, man.
To those of my colleges and all those fans out there who've been playing naysayer, all I've got to say is you better be watching what happens at "I am Batman'. You better tune in on your television or better yet get your ass down to The Labyrinth and watch first hand what transpires. You will see a 'dream match' like no other and you can all kiss my ass because when I beat Bronx and all the GOL faithful stand and cheer me on, I will have proved just how good I am.
Give me victory, or give me Valhalla! Bronx, I'll see you in the ring.
***
"Hey Jacob, it's me Tiger... it's Eli. I know what I've done to you in the past, there's no excuse for it. I'm not asking you to forgive me, I just want to sit down and talk. Please, call me. Bye."
His fingers froze when they touch something familiar. All thoughts of the chocolate bar or his stomach M