Post by somethingwicked on Jun 12, 2021 20:15:28 GMT -5
Thousands of tiny black squares shift to different colors one by one. Slowly at first, barely forming a recognizable shape, and then quickly and quicker until the random small squares make up one larger image that is the face of Xavier Wolf. His face forms a smile but not the kind you’d like, and his eyes go narrow, as if he sees something he wants to bed or dead, and he’s deciding in the moment which it’ll be. As we zoom out, so does the screens image. Pulling back far enough we see that Xavier is standing off to the side of the large screen, his hands in the pockets of his white slacks and a gold chain dangling from his neck sits nicely against the matching shirt. His sleeves and his pant cuffs rolled up, one to reveal his tanned and tatted arms and the other to reveal his Hunter green socks. He walks in front of the center of the screen, raises his hand, and points.
The image behind him shows a younger Xavier, standing on the sidelines of a football field, a nervous but calm expression having taken over his baby face. The photo then switches to a view of him from behind with “MARKE” and “13” in Hunter green, with the rest of the photo being black and white.
“It was my first highschool football game. I wasn’t nervous, I was confused. I was a freshman, and here I was on the varsity team. My size and speed had made me a valuable weapon, and despite my inexperience they knew I’d do more good than harm. I stood on the sideline, and waited for the call. I didn’t have to wait for long. The other team, Westview high, got on the board twice in the first quarter, and the next thing I know, I’m being told to get in. I paused and my coach, Coach Krupp, looked at me and said ‘if you ain’t ready, you ain’t ready. You ready?’ And I almost said no.”
ALMOST
“Instead, I nodded my head, and I had faith. In me, in my abilities, and I put my helmet on and got in. First play, The QueBee, ugly kid named Matt something, throws a wobbler to the middle of the field, and next thing I know Westview is running toward us. Me in particular. They were big mother fuckers. And as I saw a hole develop, and as I saw a route to the ball, I almost didn’t move. I was almost afraid of failure. Frozen to the spot. And then it hit me that I was more afraid of failure. More afraid of not trying, of looking back at that day and remembering how I was a coward. I almost didn’t move.”
ALMOST
Old handheld camera footage of Xavier rushing forward through a crowd of defenders and knocking a ball loose plays on the screen behind him. The footage slows and fans in the area of the recording are leaping up slowly, blocking the view and producing long drawn out sounds.
“Instead I rushed forward, spun off a defender and reached out, smacking the ball out of his arms. It bounced straight into the air, and I grabbed it. I ran as hard as I could, as fast as I could. And the entire time I was thinking, I have to stop. I’m going to fall, and I’m going to fail and I’m going to relive this moment, this massive mistake. Or I’m going to keep going and I’m going to blow out my knee and then my football career will be over. All of this was racing through my mind as my heart was racing in my chest and everything was telling me ‘No.’ ‘Don’t.’ ‘Stop.’ And I almost listened.”
ALMOST
Xavier emerges from behind an excited fan with the entire team in tow. Wildly they flail as they attempt to keep up with him, while also trying to touch the ball in hopes of knocking it free from his grasp. As they catch up, and as they reach out, Xavier’s head never moves. It stays locked on what is in front of him. And then suddenly, he takes off, crossing the endzone a full 5 seconds before the several exhausted people behind him. As the crowd explodes and the slow motion comes to an end, Xavier stands there, looking out at the crowd. In a flash, several other scenes begin to play. Footage of Xavier grabbing a ball out of the air with one hand in a sea of opposition, Xavier breaking through a line and almost decapitating a running back with one arm, and other footage of similar type.
“A second voice, a louder voice, called out to me and it said ‘NO DON’T STOP. Keep on going. Run until you can’t. Run until they stop you. Run until there’s no more places to run. And so I did. And when I entered the endzone and I heard the cheers of those around me, it didn’t matter how hard I ran, or how close I was to defeat. What mattered was that I did it. Not because I had to, because I didn’t. Not because I was told to, because no one expected that to happen, not to a kid suiting up for the first time. I ran because I wanted to, and I didn’t stop or let anyone stop me because I didn’t want them to. I spent the rest of my football career compiling moments like that, with thoughts like that, but I always went for it. I spent my entire life going for what I wanted, and never looking back.”
ALMOST
“I had graduated from a different high school, and truth be told I was in as many high schools as there are grades in high schools...maybe more. But I was directionless. I was good at football, and colleges came calling. And I answered. After college, with a minimal degree in my pocket and my insane amount of wealth at my disposal, I was listless. I had no drive, no want, no need. I had all a man could want and had to work for none of it. I could easily take a seat at the table of my fathers business and never work a day in my life. And I almost did.”
ALMOST
Footage of Xavier, sans quaf of hair, standing in a line of other soldiers. His eyes tough but empty and his face a snarl of emotionlessness. Interlaced with pictures of Xavier training, there are shots of him arm wrestling other marines, drinking water by pouring it straight into his mouth with both hands at the top of a tank. And then a shot of him sitting in a folding chair, looking at the floor, and every bit of happiness gone from his eyes.
“Instead, I found myself driving without a destination in a car that was worth more than most people's houses and yet still had no value. I wore expensive shoes but when I chased perfection I saw that I had them on the wrong feet. Not left and right, but right and wrong. My feet were not made to be in leather, and silk. My feet were meant to be blistered from the effort of a hard day's work in a hard fought fight. And where oh where could one find a fight that would not end that could not end? The Marines. So I went into that terribly decorated storm front HQ of the military branch that eats more crayon than cocks, but not by much, and I signed my name on the dotted line and got in line of losers, rejects and patriots for the chance to stand in the line of fire. And when I made it through boot camp, and they told me I had a future, as long as I followed orders and did as I was told, I remembered that doing what I was told was my least favorite thing to do and I’d be damned if I did it for a living. I almost let them take me. I almost let them break me and make me into a version of myself with a cheap haircut encased in a horrible shades of green. I almost became a cog in the machine.”
ALMOST
“I went mad and then I went awol and then I went to daddy and his much more pleasant shade of green made the military go away. It was a pretty penny and not one red cent was regretted because what he bought was not my allegiance or my loyalty, what he bought was the opportunity for him to tell me I was welcome when I had never been less thankful. A true father wouldn’t have let his kid go into that situation at all, he’d have talked sense into their child and taught him that he was so close to a better life but instead, He let me go in knowing that no matter what happened, he could control the narrative. He could buy my way to the top and have a decorated Marine as a son, which would put him over the top in the eyes of voters, an aspiration that I myself ruined for him, and you’re welcome. Or I would die, and he would have the sob story that would work even better. He almost got that one.”
ALMOST
“I was uncertain of what I wanted to do and was quickly coming to the realization that like plays called on the fly in football, my suffering was audible. I had friends who came to me, and told me that I was looking miserable. That I wasn’t right in the head, and that my head was a neighborhood I shouldn’t go alone. Whereas once it was Rodeo drive now it contained more Cash for Gold stores than Gold Cards. And the only wisdom it contained was the teeth at the back of my mouth. So I shrugged it off and kept on, not really sure where I was going or what I was going to be. So I almost became nothing.”
ALMOST
“I recall the first time I saw him. I was astonished. He was tiny. He was 6’1 and he was skin and bones and looked like a ratty old wig and fallen on a white squid and had decided to try and fight. He wasn’t anything you’d ever expect to be as strong or fast as he was. For the most part he couldn’t take most of his opponents by the logic of appearances but the man could take a beating and he could give it out just as quick. I remember sitting there with my friends and thinking, if he could do this, I could. And I was right.”
ALMOST
“Except for the fact that I was not. See in my mind anyone could do this, because to me, he was no one and he was doing it. I was a fan, don’t get me wrong. But not because of what he did, because of what it made me realize I could do. So I started training, and with every pound of muscle I gained, and every sit up I did, I hung a photo of him. I would find ways to watch him in Japan and I even flew out there a few times to see him live. And he was even smaller in person. And then one day, I found out that Kal Wolf wasn’t a fighter, not just. He wasn’t a warrior, not only. But he was my brother, and that changed everything. I knew who and where I wanted to be, and now I had a direct link in my bloodline to get there. And all I had to do was explain and he’d take me in and teach me and I’d be on my way to success. And that’s how it happened.”
ALMOST
“Truth be told, Kal Wolf was not very accepting of the rich, better looking child that his mother had not forsaken to a crackhouse in Brooklyn. He was for lack of a better term, an angry dickhead who only wanted to hurt me and send me back to the mother who never loved him as bitter and angry as he was, but broken as well. So he put all he had into me, and when he ran out he found some more and when there was no more he got others to do it for him. He drove me day after wretched day, putting me in situations that offered no advantage to my ability nor mindset and had no reason for doing other than to satisfy his sick and twisted obsession with proving that I wasn’t worth saving from what he wasn’t worth rescuing from. And he almost got his way.”
ALMOST
“I can recall the day, no the minute it occurred. It was a sunday afternoon at around 1:30 whe called me and told me to meet him at this run down building. I would come to learn that it was the very house that my mother had left him, and Jack, and..And he took me there and he showed me how he had spent years preserving it, keeping it the way it was left so that one day if and when his mother who had left him and them to die by the hands of a man who’s arms were used not so much for hugging but for drugging, he could show her. He could show her what she left him in, as if she didn’t know. As if it didn’t haunt her. As if she wished it could’ve been different. And it almost was.”
ALMOST
“I talked to her about it afterwards and she broke down and she told me. She told me that she wanted to take them, but Thomas Marke wouldn’t let her. See there was a time when Thomas would’ve taken all of the kids to make her happy, but that time expired the moment she said no the first time. No that she would not leave her husband for him. She loved him, and he was a good man. And then, in that moment Thomas Marke did what he always did to good men. He broke him. He fired him and closed the shipping port that employed most of the neighborhood, Blaming him for it by citing some lapse in inspections that he was personally responsible for. He didn’t just take his job, he took the love of the employees who worked there. Truth be told when I do things at all, it’s because of Thomas that I never do them for one reason only. He showed me that all decisions, all choices, should have dual purposes. His were the chance to save money by closing the port and opening in more lenient New Jersey, and his chance to save face and shove the face of the man who denied him what he most wanted. 7 Months later the wife he’d rescued from squalor gave birth to not one child but two. Twins did not run in Marke’s family, but they did run in her ex’s. It was at this moment that the affair he’d had with this woman was clearly seen for what it was. A ploy to get her out of harm's way and save the children inside her. See, what Kal didn’t understand was he was looking at where he was left, and not why. Our mother knew that the only path for our father was those kids. And that maybe, if she wasn’t there he’d snap out of it. And then, Thomas Marke being the cancer that he was decided that a punishment was needed. So he took the first child, and gave away the other. In the years to come that child would go through a hellish existence that would change him formatically and alter him almost to the dna level. A hell yes, but a hell worse than the one I suffered. I know it seems like I’m digressing, but there’s a point here that I’m making. Standing in that house with him I thought he was trying to express who he was. He wanted me to think that, actually. And I almost did.”
ALMOST
“What he was really trying to show me was that while we might be related and that while I might be in this business I’d always be lesser than, on a different list, or not even listed at all because unlike him, and Vin, I had the perfect life. Well tell me who the fuck defined perfect this way because having money isn’t it, and if he thought so then he sure as hell doesn’t think so now, because he’s still a miserable prick and will probably be one until he dies. He was emphatic about taking me out and removing me from this business as I would be nothing but a bruise on the peach that he built in this business. He paid for me to get a title fight thinking I wouldn’t win. He paid for my now Father-In-Law to break me, thinking it would get me to go away. And I laid on that mat with blood leaving me like an open faucet, while he slammed his hand against the mat telling me to get up, not because he reckoned I could be successful but because for his plan to be successful I’d have to have been wrecked. And I almost was.”
ALMOST
“The next day I laid in bed, unable to move, unable to breath, unable to be. And I stared not at the ceiling but through it, and above my head I watched as my life played out before me up until that point and the questions that came, came without answers. And then he showed up and he told me he was proud of me, which was a lie. And that he thought I was going to die, and I almost did. And when he told me that maybe this wasn’t the thing for me, he tried to seem genuine. And when I said there was no way I’d walk away now. I was a champion. He slammed his hand against the table and tried to make it seem like he was happy but in reality he was pissed. His plan had failed. Not because I hadn’t regretted going against Fury, I had. Not because the pain I felt didn’t deter me, it did. Almost. But Kal in all of his Finite wisdom had given me the one thing I’d been looking for. A fight. Rules I could play with. And the chance to be great. And he wasn’t going to be the one to stop me. He’d be the first, he wouldn’t be the last. You, Stephen. You were almost the last.”
ALMOST
“Stephen, my career in this business has been full of everything you expect from a person in this business. I was in the comedic anti-authority stable, Masters of Mayhem. It was meant to be a ne’er-do-well group of young stars who would stop at nothing to be disrespectful to the powers that be while leaping around in green and black t-shirts. We were pathblazers, Stephen. But, we were overshadowed by a small group of people called the Natural Born Killers. Which was fine. Vincent was a hot commodity back then, while I was still finding my niche. It’s to be expected. I didn’t let it get me. I became a masked villain known only as E, and slunk around in shadows taking people out when there back was turned, and truly tapped into my…’evil’ side. So when i tell you that the lowest point of my career was losing to a man who had never been there before, you’ll believe me. I was not devastated, or depressed. But I was concerned. Concerned that my inability to fend you off was the thing that Kal had been looking for. My reason to walk away. To give up the Fight, and to never look back. To take my handsome face and my wonderful wife and live differently than I had for the last decade. And god dammit, I almost did it.”
ALMOST
“Then I saw this for what it was. Routine, Stephen. People lose belts to shitty people all the time. Apathy held that belt for fucks sake. Truth is, the best in this business, the ones that we all look up to don’t lose titles and walk away. They lose titles and then take them back. They have the things they value ripped from them, and they reach out, and take them back. Every legend, every GOAT, has multiple titles under their belt. So why would I let some backdoor fuck like yourself who had to literally try to destroy my entire family just to get me off kilter, cause me to slink away? Why would I not solve my issues, and come back better, faster, stronger. Because you didn’t want me to? Because I might lose again? Stephen, I’ve lost plenty. I have lost more than you will ever know. I’ve also taken. I’ve taken championships, friendships, and relationships. And when I take something, just like when I make a promise, I keep it, Stephen. But what I’m coming to take from you this time, is not something I want to keep. It’s something I want to deny you the right to have. And when i came up with the idea, when it struck me in the night like a fucking bus in one of those ‘death follows you’ movies, I almost didn’t think I could pull it off. So I almost didn’t bother trying.”
ALMOST
“See Stephen, While you’ve been busy playing champ I’ve been playing chump and doing my best impression of you. And thankfully, it’s an excellent impression because I found out things about you that most don’t know because you didn’t want them to. And I can stand here now and tell you them one by one, but I am not playing that way. In fact, I am not going to play to win, play for keeps, or play the way you expect. Because I am done playing. The mind games, the bullshit. It’s all over now, Stephen. The only thing left for us is to show the world who is the better person. Just like I’m about to show the world who you really are, and what you really are. You’re a coward, Stephen. And most of all, you’re a liar. And it’s time to prove it..”
Right Now.
“You have built your reputation on being an outsider, living on the fringe and existing in mystery, but Stephen, the only mystery about you is how you were able to pull this off for this long. And what I mean, is not the title, but the facade that is you. And by that, I mean this…”
The screen behind X shows footage from the previous weeks Showcase. Xavier kneels before Charlotte Stratford, and offers her a bottle of water, which she takes a drink from and takes a deep breathy sigh after, causing X to smile.
“So. You like wrestling?”
“It’s ok. I wish my dad did something else. Like a firefighter. Or a mailman.”
“Because then he could come home, like he used to, right?”
“Yeah! He used to come home all the time. Now he’s never there.”
“....I bet that’s hard. Not having him around as much as he used to be.”
“He used to make me pancakes in funny shapes, and he’d make us bacon pancakes and we’d tell knock knock jokes. He’s funny.”
“He’s very funny.”
Xavier smiles and blinks an excessive amount of times. He then looks up and his jaw shakes for a second, before the image freezes, and Xavier, the live version, walks back in front of the screen.
“Every man sells a part of themselves to be something more. We skin ourselves every day of parts and pieces that we want in trade for things that we need. I used to be a kind and generous person, Stephen. But this business, this world, it made me different. It built me different. It’s done that to almost each and every one of us. But what this business did to you, was it only made it easier to see what you’ve always been. A liar, a fiend, and a weakling in all the ways it counts. You can tell me you did it to protect your family, you can tell me you crafted this entire thing for their benefit. But I know the truth. It’s because Stephen Stratford doesn’t work as a family man, does he? Stratford has to be an enigma, a genderless snake that can shift from one moment to the next depending on it’s needs. Let me inform you of the shape you need to take now. It’s not one you’re used to. In fact, I’d wager it was almost impossible for someone like you to assume something like that.”
ALMOST
“You’re going to have to be brave now, Stephen. You’re going to have to look this industry in the eye and tell it the truth. That you’re not who you say you are. That the Stephen Stratford that came into OPW was nothing more than a stay at home dad who got tired of staying at home. This isn’t your calling, it's the hobby you hide away from in the garage. It’s a set of trains you stand in the middle of and watch circle you because it drags you out of the monotony of wake, shop, kid, repeat. And don’t mistake it, lots of people in this business have families. People they love and fight for the chance to go home to. But they don’t pretend these people don’t exist. They show who they are, and who they love, because unlike you, they aren’t too weak to do so. So fucking worried someone might know the real you, when fact is, you don’t even know the real you, do you stephen? Are you the loving doting father and husband or are you the cold hearted price with a shitty mustache? You’ve made it clear you can’t be seen as both, and I almost believed you were capable of either. ”
ALMOST
“A real man, a real father, doesn’t hide from his children over some selfish bullshit want to be seen one way or another. A real warrior doesn’t hide their weakness’ from their enemies because a real warrior knows that while they have weaknesses, they are stronger despite their weakness. But you, Stephen. You’re not a warrior. And you’re not a real family man. You’re a coward. Worse yet, you’re a coward in both your professional, and personal life. You’re not strong enough to be the father and husband and warrior, a task easily done by Damon Riggs, Vincent Black, Paul Montouri, and a list of other fighters. You aren’t strong enough to be an honest fighter, putting your real self out there, because you can’t fathom the idea of balancing both. But don’t worry, Strat-Strat. There is Good news. I’m here to fix the problem for you. By doing what I should have done the last time. Rather than blinding myself by the person you pretended to be I should have looked hard and true, and seen you for you. Now that I have, I am going to use my last act of affection to youI to give you a gift. I am going to make it abundantly. The time where you get to stop being both is finally here.”
ALMOST
“You and I are going to have one more fight. Part 3 in our epic war against one another. Only this time, the world is going to see us both as who we really are. Me, the unstoppable force, and you, the unexceptionable object. And when I collide with you for the last time ever, I am going to show the world precisely who you are, and who you’ve always been. Except I’ve already done that.”
Xavier gets further and further away as the drone that has been filming him increases the space between it and him, slowly revealing that Xavier has been standing in front of the gigantic monitor at One Times Square. Crowds of people flock to the street below, looking up at every screen in the area which have been taken over by footage of Stephen Stratford in different situations. Sitting with his daughter drinking tea in his backyard, doing his nails as his daughter watches, Walking arm in arm with wife Demi as Charlotte hangs from his neck. More screens turn to Stratford the longer we watch. Xavier begins to increase in size as the drone closes in on him again.
“My entire life, Stephen, I’ve never let ‘almost’ get in my way. I’ve had fear so bad it was paralysing, and I overcame it. I’ve been ruled by insecurity, but had the desire to ignore it. I’ve been presented with choices and sometimes made the wrong ones, but life is not about perfection, Stephen. It’s about learning from your mistakes. And as angry as life might make you, and how torturous it may be to move from one moment to the next, wondering if you’ve chosen the right path, you have to rely on yourself to do what is needed. To work so hard that others call you ‘lucky’ and look at you as if you didn’t earn it. That you were little more than trash. And why do they think that? Because you’re thriving, and they're surviving. They’re lying, and you’re trying. And when they fail, they fold, but you try and you try and you try again. I always try again. I don’t play the victim card and I don’t sell myself short because WOLVES DO NOT PLAY AND THEY CAN NOT BE BOUGHT. Wolves simply do what they want. And what I want to do is end this between me and you. That’s what this is, Stephen.I’ve exposed you to these people today, and I will expose you to the rest at Showcase. Today, New York. Tomorrow, The World. I almost feel bad doing it, Stephen.”
…..
The drone pans around as Guns N Roses ‘I used to love her’ plays over every speaker in the area. Xavier walks up to the screen, and with the push of a button, a door appears from the screen, allowing him to exit the stage and vanish behind the door. As the drone pans out, we see that every screen in NYC is broadcasting footage of Stephen Stratford, with GNR echoing through the gathered masses of onlookers. As the darkness returns, we see a flyer gliding through the air, a fist on the center of the floating page, barely visible but visible enough. As it gets close enough to read the lettering, we retreat into the void, returning to the darkness from which we came.
The image behind him shows a younger Xavier, standing on the sidelines of a football field, a nervous but calm expression having taken over his baby face. The photo then switches to a view of him from behind with “MARKE” and “13” in Hunter green, with the rest of the photo being black and white.
“It was my first highschool football game. I wasn’t nervous, I was confused. I was a freshman, and here I was on the varsity team. My size and speed had made me a valuable weapon, and despite my inexperience they knew I’d do more good than harm. I stood on the sideline, and waited for the call. I didn’t have to wait for long. The other team, Westview high, got on the board twice in the first quarter, and the next thing I know, I’m being told to get in. I paused and my coach, Coach Krupp, looked at me and said ‘if you ain’t ready, you ain’t ready. You ready?’ And I almost said no.”
ALMOST
“Instead, I nodded my head, and I had faith. In me, in my abilities, and I put my helmet on and got in. First play, The QueBee, ugly kid named Matt something, throws a wobbler to the middle of the field, and next thing I know Westview is running toward us. Me in particular. They were big mother fuckers. And as I saw a hole develop, and as I saw a route to the ball, I almost didn’t move. I was almost afraid of failure. Frozen to the spot. And then it hit me that I was more afraid of failure. More afraid of not trying, of looking back at that day and remembering how I was a coward. I almost didn’t move.”
ALMOST
Old handheld camera footage of Xavier rushing forward through a crowd of defenders and knocking a ball loose plays on the screen behind him. The footage slows and fans in the area of the recording are leaping up slowly, blocking the view and producing long drawn out sounds.
“Instead I rushed forward, spun off a defender and reached out, smacking the ball out of his arms. It bounced straight into the air, and I grabbed it. I ran as hard as I could, as fast as I could. And the entire time I was thinking, I have to stop. I’m going to fall, and I’m going to fail and I’m going to relive this moment, this massive mistake. Or I’m going to keep going and I’m going to blow out my knee and then my football career will be over. All of this was racing through my mind as my heart was racing in my chest and everything was telling me ‘No.’ ‘Don’t.’ ‘Stop.’ And I almost listened.”
ALMOST
Xavier emerges from behind an excited fan with the entire team in tow. Wildly they flail as they attempt to keep up with him, while also trying to touch the ball in hopes of knocking it free from his grasp. As they catch up, and as they reach out, Xavier’s head never moves. It stays locked on what is in front of him. And then suddenly, he takes off, crossing the endzone a full 5 seconds before the several exhausted people behind him. As the crowd explodes and the slow motion comes to an end, Xavier stands there, looking out at the crowd. In a flash, several other scenes begin to play. Footage of Xavier grabbing a ball out of the air with one hand in a sea of opposition, Xavier breaking through a line and almost decapitating a running back with one arm, and other footage of similar type.
“A second voice, a louder voice, called out to me and it said ‘NO DON’T STOP. Keep on going. Run until you can’t. Run until they stop you. Run until there’s no more places to run. And so I did. And when I entered the endzone and I heard the cheers of those around me, it didn’t matter how hard I ran, or how close I was to defeat. What mattered was that I did it. Not because I had to, because I didn’t. Not because I was told to, because no one expected that to happen, not to a kid suiting up for the first time. I ran because I wanted to, and I didn’t stop or let anyone stop me because I didn’t want them to. I spent the rest of my football career compiling moments like that, with thoughts like that, but I always went for it. I spent my entire life going for what I wanted, and never looking back.”
ALMOST
“I had graduated from a different high school, and truth be told I was in as many high schools as there are grades in high schools...maybe more. But I was directionless. I was good at football, and colleges came calling. And I answered. After college, with a minimal degree in my pocket and my insane amount of wealth at my disposal, I was listless. I had no drive, no want, no need. I had all a man could want and had to work for none of it. I could easily take a seat at the table of my fathers business and never work a day in my life. And I almost did.”
ALMOST
Footage of Xavier, sans quaf of hair, standing in a line of other soldiers. His eyes tough but empty and his face a snarl of emotionlessness. Interlaced with pictures of Xavier training, there are shots of him arm wrestling other marines, drinking water by pouring it straight into his mouth with both hands at the top of a tank. And then a shot of him sitting in a folding chair, looking at the floor, and every bit of happiness gone from his eyes.
“Instead, I found myself driving without a destination in a car that was worth more than most people's houses and yet still had no value. I wore expensive shoes but when I chased perfection I saw that I had them on the wrong feet. Not left and right, but right and wrong. My feet were not made to be in leather, and silk. My feet were meant to be blistered from the effort of a hard day's work in a hard fought fight. And where oh where could one find a fight that would not end that could not end? The Marines. So I went into that terribly decorated storm front HQ of the military branch that eats more crayon than cocks, but not by much, and I signed my name on the dotted line and got in line of losers, rejects and patriots for the chance to stand in the line of fire. And when I made it through boot camp, and they told me I had a future, as long as I followed orders and did as I was told, I remembered that doing what I was told was my least favorite thing to do and I’d be damned if I did it for a living. I almost let them take me. I almost let them break me and make me into a version of myself with a cheap haircut encased in a horrible shades of green. I almost became a cog in the machine.”
ALMOST
“I went mad and then I went awol and then I went to daddy and his much more pleasant shade of green made the military go away. It was a pretty penny and not one red cent was regretted because what he bought was not my allegiance or my loyalty, what he bought was the opportunity for him to tell me I was welcome when I had never been less thankful. A true father wouldn’t have let his kid go into that situation at all, he’d have talked sense into their child and taught him that he was so close to a better life but instead, He let me go in knowing that no matter what happened, he could control the narrative. He could buy my way to the top and have a decorated Marine as a son, which would put him over the top in the eyes of voters, an aspiration that I myself ruined for him, and you’re welcome. Or I would die, and he would have the sob story that would work even better. He almost got that one.”
ALMOST
“I was uncertain of what I wanted to do and was quickly coming to the realization that like plays called on the fly in football, my suffering was audible. I had friends who came to me, and told me that I was looking miserable. That I wasn’t right in the head, and that my head was a neighborhood I shouldn’t go alone. Whereas once it was Rodeo drive now it contained more Cash for Gold stores than Gold Cards. And the only wisdom it contained was the teeth at the back of my mouth. So I shrugged it off and kept on, not really sure where I was going or what I was going to be. So I almost became nothing.”
ALMOST
“I recall the first time I saw him. I was astonished. He was tiny. He was 6’1 and he was skin and bones and looked like a ratty old wig and fallen on a white squid and had decided to try and fight. He wasn’t anything you’d ever expect to be as strong or fast as he was. For the most part he couldn’t take most of his opponents by the logic of appearances but the man could take a beating and he could give it out just as quick. I remember sitting there with my friends and thinking, if he could do this, I could. And I was right.”
ALMOST
“Except for the fact that I was not. See in my mind anyone could do this, because to me, he was no one and he was doing it. I was a fan, don’t get me wrong. But not because of what he did, because of what it made me realize I could do. So I started training, and with every pound of muscle I gained, and every sit up I did, I hung a photo of him. I would find ways to watch him in Japan and I even flew out there a few times to see him live. And he was even smaller in person. And then one day, I found out that Kal Wolf wasn’t a fighter, not just. He wasn’t a warrior, not only. But he was my brother, and that changed everything. I knew who and where I wanted to be, and now I had a direct link in my bloodline to get there. And all I had to do was explain and he’d take me in and teach me and I’d be on my way to success. And that’s how it happened.”
ALMOST
“Truth be told, Kal Wolf was not very accepting of the rich, better looking child that his mother had not forsaken to a crackhouse in Brooklyn. He was for lack of a better term, an angry dickhead who only wanted to hurt me and send me back to the mother who never loved him as bitter and angry as he was, but broken as well. So he put all he had into me, and when he ran out he found some more and when there was no more he got others to do it for him. He drove me day after wretched day, putting me in situations that offered no advantage to my ability nor mindset and had no reason for doing other than to satisfy his sick and twisted obsession with proving that I wasn’t worth saving from what he wasn’t worth rescuing from. And he almost got his way.”
ALMOST
“I can recall the day, no the minute it occurred. It was a sunday afternoon at around 1:30 whe called me and told me to meet him at this run down building. I would come to learn that it was the very house that my mother had left him, and Jack, and..And he took me there and he showed me how he had spent years preserving it, keeping it the way it was left so that one day if and when his mother who had left him and them to die by the hands of a man who’s arms were used not so much for hugging but for drugging, he could show her. He could show her what she left him in, as if she didn’t know. As if it didn’t haunt her. As if she wished it could’ve been different. And it almost was.”
ALMOST
“I talked to her about it afterwards and she broke down and she told me. She told me that she wanted to take them, but Thomas Marke wouldn’t let her. See there was a time when Thomas would’ve taken all of the kids to make her happy, but that time expired the moment she said no the first time. No that she would not leave her husband for him. She loved him, and he was a good man. And then, in that moment Thomas Marke did what he always did to good men. He broke him. He fired him and closed the shipping port that employed most of the neighborhood, Blaming him for it by citing some lapse in inspections that he was personally responsible for. He didn’t just take his job, he took the love of the employees who worked there. Truth be told when I do things at all, it’s because of Thomas that I never do them for one reason only. He showed me that all decisions, all choices, should have dual purposes. His were the chance to save money by closing the port and opening in more lenient New Jersey, and his chance to save face and shove the face of the man who denied him what he most wanted. 7 Months later the wife he’d rescued from squalor gave birth to not one child but two. Twins did not run in Marke’s family, but they did run in her ex’s. It was at this moment that the affair he’d had with this woman was clearly seen for what it was. A ploy to get her out of harm's way and save the children inside her. See, what Kal didn’t understand was he was looking at where he was left, and not why. Our mother knew that the only path for our father was those kids. And that maybe, if she wasn’t there he’d snap out of it. And then, Thomas Marke being the cancer that he was decided that a punishment was needed. So he took the first child, and gave away the other. In the years to come that child would go through a hellish existence that would change him formatically and alter him almost to the dna level. A hell yes, but a hell worse than the one I suffered. I know it seems like I’m digressing, but there’s a point here that I’m making. Standing in that house with him I thought he was trying to express who he was. He wanted me to think that, actually. And I almost did.”
ALMOST
“What he was really trying to show me was that while we might be related and that while I might be in this business I’d always be lesser than, on a different list, or not even listed at all because unlike him, and Vin, I had the perfect life. Well tell me who the fuck defined perfect this way because having money isn’t it, and if he thought so then he sure as hell doesn’t think so now, because he’s still a miserable prick and will probably be one until he dies. He was emphatic about taking me out and removing me from this business as I would be nothing but a bruise on the peach that he built in this business. He paid for me to get a title fight thinking I wouldn’t win. He paid for my now Father-In-Law to break me, thinking it would get me to go away. And I laid on that mat with blood leaving me like an open faucet, while he slammed his hand against the mat telling me to get up, not because he reckoned I could be successful but because for his plan to be successful I’d have to have been wrecked. And I almost was.”
ALMOST
“The next day I laid in bed, unable to move, unable to breath, unable to be. And I stared not at the ceiling but through it, and above my head I watched as my life played out before me up until that point and the questions that came, came without answers. And then he showed up and he told me he was proud of me, which was a lie. And that he thought I was going to die, and I almost did. And when he told me that maybe this wasn’t the thing for me, he tried to seem genuine. And when I said there was no way I’d walk away now. I was a champion. He slammed his hand against the table and tried to make it seem like he was happy but in reality he was pissed. His plan had failed. Not because I hadn’t regretted going against Fury, I had. Not because the pain I felt didn’t deter me, it did. Almost. But Kal in all of his Finite wisdom had given me the one thing I’d been looking for. A fight. Rules I could play with. And the chance to be great. And he wasn’t going to be the one to stop me. He’d be the first, he wouldn’t be the last. You, Stephen. You were almost the last.”
ALMOST
“Stephen, my career in this business has been full of everything you expect from a person in this business. I was in the comedic anti-authority stable, Masters of Mayhem. It was meant to be a ne’er-do-well group of young stars who would stop at nothing to be disrespectful to the powers that be while leaping around in green and black t-shirts. We were pathblazers, Stephen. But, we were overshadowed by a small group of people called the Natural Born Killers. Which was fine. Vincent was a hot commodity back then, while I was still finding my niche. It’s to be expected. I didn’t let it get me. I became a masked villain known only as E, and slunk around in shadows taking people out when there back was turned, and truly tapped into my…’evil’ side. So when i tell you that the lowest point of my career was losing to a man who had never been there before, you’ll believe me. I was not devastated, or depressed. But I was concerned. Concerned that my inability to fend you off was the thing that Kal had been looking for. My reason to walk away. To give up the Fight, and to never look back. To take my handsome face and my wonderful wife and live differently than I had for the last decade. And god dammit, I almost did it.”
ALMOST
“Then I saw this for what it was. Routine, Stephen. People lose belts to shitty people all the time. Apathy held that belt for fucks sake. Truth is, the best in this business, the ones that we all look up to don’t lose titles and walk away. They lose titles and then take them back. They have the things they value ripped from them, and they reach out, and take them back. Every legend, every GOAT, has multiple titles under their belt. So why would I let some backdoor fuck like yourself who had to literally try to destroy my entire family just to get me off kilter, cause me to slink away? Why would I not solve my issues, and come back better, faster, stronger. Because you didn’t want me to? Because I might lose again? Stephen, I’ve lost plenty. I have lost more than you will ever know. I’ve also taken. I’ve taken championships, friendships, and relationships. And when I take something, just like when I make a promise, I keep it, Stephen. But what I’m coming to take from you this time, is not something I want to keep. It’s something I want to deny you the right to have. And when i came up with the idea, when it struck me in the night like a fucking bus in one of those ‘death follows you’ movies, I almost didn’t think I could pull it off. So I almost didn’t bother trying.”
ALMOST
“See Stephen, While you’ve been busy playing champ I’ve been playing chump and doing my best impression of you. And thankfully, it’s an excellent impression because I found out things about you that most don’t know because you didn’t want them to. And I can stand here now and tell you them one by one, but I am not playing that way. In fact, I am not going to play to win, play for keeps, or play the way you expect. Because I am done playing. The mind games, the bullshit. It’s all over now, Stephen. The only thing left for us is to show the world who is the better person. Just like I’m about to show the world who you really are, and what you really are. You’re a coward, Stephen. And most of all, you’re a liar. And it’s time to prove it..”
Right Now.
“You have built your reputation on being an outsider, living on the fringe and existing in mystery, but Stephen, the only mystery about you is how you were able to pull this off for this long. And what I mean, is not the title, but the facade that is you. And by that, I mean this…”
The screen behind X shows footage from the previous weeks Showcase. Xavier kneels before Charlotte Stratford, and offers her a bottle of water, which she takes a drink from and takes a deep breathy sigh after, causing X to smile.
“So. You like wrestling?”
“It’s ok. I wish my dad did something else. Like a firefighter. Or a mailman.”
“Because then he could come home, like he used to, right?”
“Yeah! He used to come home all the time. Now he’s never there.”
“....I bet that’s hard. Not having him around as much as he used to be.”
“He used to make me pancakes in funny shapes, and he’d make us bacon pancakes and we’d tell knock knock jokes. He’s funny.”
“He’s very funny.”
Xavier smiles and blinks an excessive amount of times. He then looks up and his jaw shakes for a second, before the image freezes, and Xavier, the live version, walks back in front of the screen.
“Every man sells a part of themselves to be something more. We skin ourselves every day of parts and pieces that we want in trade for things that we need. I used to be a kind and generous person, Stephen. But this business, this world, it made me different. It built me different. It’s done that to almost each and every one of us. But what this business did to you, was it only made it easier to see what you’ve always been. A liar, a fiend, and a weakling in all the ways it counts. You can tell me you did it to protect your family, you can tell me you crafted this entire thing for their benefit. But I know the truth. It’s because Stephen Stratford doesn’t work as a family man, does he? Stratford has to be an enigma, a genderless snake that can shift from one moment to the next depending on it’s needs. Let me inform you of the shape you need to take now. It’s not one you’re used to. In fact, I’d wager it was almost impossible for someone like you to assume something like that.”
ALMOST
“You’re going to have to be brave now, Stephen. You’re going to have to look this industry in the eye and tell it the truth. That you’re not who you say you are. That the Stephen Stratford that came into OPW was nothing more than a stay at home dad who got tired of staying at home. This isn’t your calling, it's the hobby you hide away from in the garage. It’s a set of trains you stand in the middle of and watch circle you because it drags you out of the monotony of wake, shop, kid, repeat. And don’t mistake it, lots of people in this business have families. People they love and fight for the chance to go home to. But they don’t pretend these people don’t exist. They show who they are, and who they love, because unlike you, they aren’t too weak to do so. So fucking worried someone might know the real you, when fact is, you don’t even know the real you, do you stephen? Are you the loving doting father and husband or are you the cold hearted price with a shitty mustache? You’ve made it clear you can’t be seen as both, and I almost believed you were capable of either. ”
ALMOST
“A real man, a real father, doesn’t hide from his children over some selfish bullshit want to be seen one way or another. A real warrior doesn’t hide their weakness’ from their enemies because a real warrior knows that while they have weaknesses, they are stronger despite their weakness. But you, Stephen. You’re not a warrior. And you’re not a real family man. You’re a coward. Worse yet, you’re a coward in both your professional, and personal life. You’re not strong enough to be the father and husband and warrior, a task easily done by Damon Riggs, Vincent Black, Paul Montouri, and a list of other fighters. You aren’t strong enough to be an honest fighter, putting your real self out there, because you can’t fathom the idea of balancing both. But don’t worry, Strat-Strat. There is Good news. I’m here to fix the problem for you. By doing what I should have done the last time. Rather than blinding myself by the person you pretended to be I should have looked hard and true, and seen you for you. Now that I have, I am going to use my last act of affection to youI to give you a gift. I am going to make it abundantly. The time where you get to stop being both is finally here.”
ALMOST
“You and I are going to have one more fight. Part 3 in our epic war against one another. Only this time, the world is going to see us both as who we really are. Me, the unstoppable force, and you, the unexceptionable object. And when I collide with you for the last time ever, I am going to show the world precisely who you are, and who you’ve always been. Except I’ve already done that.”
Xavier gets further and further away as the drone that has been filming him increases the space between it and him, slowly revealing that Xavier has been standing in front of the gigantic monitor at One Times Square. Crowds of people flock to the street below, looking up at every screen in the area which have been taken over by footage of Stephen Stratford in different situations. Sitting with his daughter drinking tea in his backyard, doing his nails as his daughter watches, Walking arm in arm with wife Demi as Charlotte hangs from his neck. More screens turn to Stratford the longer we watch. Xavier begins to increase in size as the drone closes in on him again.
“My entire life, Stephen, I’ve never let ‘almost’ get in my way. I’ve had fear so bad it was paralysing, and I overcame it. I’ve been ruled by insecurity, but had the desire to ignore it. I’ve been presented with choices and sometimes made the wrong ones, but life is not about perfection, Stephen. It’s about learning from your mistakes. And as angry as life might make you, and how torturous it may be to move from one moment to the next, wondering if you’ve chosen the right path, you have to rely on yourself to do what is needed. To work so hard that others call you ‘lucky’ and look at you as if you didn’t earn it. That you were little more than trash. And why do they think that? Because you’re thriving, and they're surviving. They’re lying, and you’re trying. And when they fail, they fold, but you try and you try and you try again. I always try again. I don’t play the victim card and I don’t sell myself short because WOLVES DO NOT PLAY AND THEY CAN NOT BE BOUGHT. Wolves simply do what they want. And what I want to do is end this between me and you. That’s what this is, Stephen.I’ve exposed you to these people today, and I will expose you to the rest at Showcase. Today, New York. Tomorrow, The World. I almost feel bad doing it, Stephen.”
…..
The drone pans around as Guns N Roses ‘I used to love her’ plays over every speaker in the area. Xavier walks up to the screen, and with the push of a button, a door appears from the screen, allowing him to exit the stage and vanish behind the door. As the drone pans out, we see that every screen in NYC is broadcasting footage of Stephen Stratford, with GNR echoing through the gathered masses of onlookers. As the darkness returns, we see a flyer gliding through the air, a fist on the center of the floating page, barely visible but visible enough. As it gets close enough to read the lettering, we retreat into the void, returning to the darkness from which we came.