Post by aleisterdavison on May 7, 2020 23:44:39 GMT -5
I made my presence known at "Monday Night Showcase" in Allentown. I wanted to make sure y'all heard what I had to say. That y'all realized that I'm not here to play around. That I'm NOT somebody you should be taking lightly. No matter who you are or what your status might be. The best advice that I can give to you is to have eyes in the back of your head and your head on a swivel at all times. You never know when I might be coming to take your place on the food chain. Stay idle and I guarantee, you won't have your spot for too much longer.
I'd love to say it isn't personal, it's just business but to me: this shit IS personal. It has to be if you're going to have any success in this business. That's something I learned early on in my career. This business isn't about how you feel. It's not about playing nice with others and biding your time. Paying your dues. Those are things people say to try and make your stay in your cage. Lock you in and keep you chained down. That shit ain't going to work with me.
I KNOW this business is dog eat dog. You got to be hungry. You got to force them to listen to you. Make them realize that you're willing to induce a shock to their systems. That the landscape they have come to know. That they have come to be comfortable with, is changing and that all they can do, is sit back and watch it all unfold before their very eyes. Just like the rest of them.
Just as those who witnessed it in Japan had no choice but to watch whilst I made my name. Whilst I changed the game over there, the same is about to occur in OPW. It's inevitable. Has been ever since I signed on the dotted line and made it official I was on the roster. Ever since I walked through those doors.
It's no longer a question of "if" I will become the best, but "when" will I become the best. The answer is: I've BEEN the best. I haven't needed to step into the ring to prove that. I don't need to step into the ring to prove it either. Just ask yourself. Is there ANYBODY on the roster that can hang with me?
Is there ANYBODY on this roster that can last in that ring against me? I ain't seeing any names that come close to what I can do. No names that can even claim to be near my level, let alone on it. They know it too.
If they don't want to admit it now, that's on them. I'll leave them with no choice but to admit it once we step between those ropes. Provided they don't shy away from the challenge. That they actually are men, though that might be asking too much from them.
After all, as I stated when I first arrived: this roster is full of FRAUDS who want to pretend they're men, but would rather not PROVE they are. Something all too common nowadays. They'd rather prance around and pretend this is ballet rather than scratch. Rather than claw and risk breaking a nail. Or messing up their image. Got to look good for the cameras. Got to look good so Hollywood notices them.
If they noticed you, you wouldn't be here right now. You wouldn't be stepping into that ring. You are, though. So you should focus more on this and less on whether your face would look good on a Hollywood poster. Maybe then I'd take you seriously.
For now, though, you're just a step. A bump in the road for me. Ones that I will simply step over as I look down at you. Disappointed that you never even tried to stop me.
One by One.
SCENE ONE
I sit atop a cream-colored two-seat couch, within Room 217 at the Holiday Inn Hotel. The floor is lined with rose cotton carpet, the walls are painted in a bright sunflower yellow with five different pieces of artwork hanging up on the walls. Each depicting a different part of the city and there for the visitors to appreciate and add to the life of the hotel room. Make it feel more like you're back at home, as much as a hotel room can be.
There's a forty-two inch Sony television about five feet in front of where I'm sitting, atop a polished mahogany table, that has two compartments that can easily fit a PlayStation and a DVD collection. Which, aside from an assortment of six DVDs that I have stacked up on the bottom shelf, I didn't bring along with me.
Not because I didn't expect to be coming to Allentown. I did. It's more that I'm not really a big "gamer". I play video games, but not religiously, and see it more as a hobby rather than something I'm committed to.
I'd rather spend my time either sightseeing or in the gym, making sure that I'm in the best shape I possibly can be. That I ain't going to be getting gassed two minutes into a match, something that is commonplace in wrestling. It's one of the many things that separates me from the pack.
The DVDs came along because I still need something to do in order to unwind and help me relax, and watching a movie does that. Whether it be the Dark Knight if I want something gritty or the Hangover if I'm feeling like watching something more comedic, movies have always been the one constant when I'm in a hotel room.
It was in Japan and England, so why would I change that now? Exhaling slightly, I feel a slight yawn leave my lips as I glance down at my iPhone 9 positioned atop the nylon fabric of my crimson red shorts, gently tapping the screen to check the time.
11:25 PM.
Sliding my finger across the screen, I click on the messages icon, noticing I have seven unread messages. The majority of them being from friends and family. Either congratulating me on signing with OPW or telling me they saw me on Showcase. Clicking on each of them, I read through before clicking back. I'll reply to them in the morning when I wake up.
Right now though, I intend on just putting on the Hangover then heading to bed, as I have to be awake in time to check out of the hotel at 9 AM and catch a 10:30 AM flight back home to Oklahoma City. Exiting my messages, I place the phone on the left-hand side armrest and stand up, before walking over to the table and kneeling down.
Placing my right hand on the Hangover's case, I pull it out, open it, then slowly and gently extract the DVD from the case, before putting it into the jet black Sony DVD player on the top shelf, then make my way back to the couch. Grasping the TV remote that was on the right-hand armrest, I press the "on" button, before pushing the "play" button that is conveniently placed on the bottom of the remote before placing it back down. Laying back and getting myself prepared to watch the movie as another yawn escapes from my lips.
SCENE TWO.
The following day, I walk across the vinyl floors of the Will Rogers airport, carrying my jet black duffel bag in my right hand and attired in a plain amber cotton t-shirt, black basketball shorts and my favorite pair of snow white Nike sneakers, having arrived back home from Allentown an hour prior.
Glancing around, I notice how empty the airport is, compared to usual but also remember that we are in a pandemic, so travel options are limited for the most part. It makes it easier to get through the airport and to my car, so I'm not about to sit here and complain about it. Anything that makes the ability to get home and relax smoother is a plus in my book.
Especially with how much time I have already spent in airports throughout the duration of my life. I wouldn't change it for the world though, even if sometimes it gets tedious having to squeeze through small gaps between others. Smiling to myself, I continue to walk, occasionally stopping to peer out the window at the equally vacant parking lot before exhaling and absorbing the peace and quiet.
It's so quiet, that the loudest sound is that of my footsteps echoing as they hit the vinyl. Laughing slightly to myself, I swivel my body to the left, beginning to make my way to the glass double doors that signal the exit as I notice a singular security guard, dressed in pearl cotton shirt, denim jeans, and polished coffee brown leather cowboy style boots.
Security Guard: Stay safe..
I nod politely at him, as I make my way to the sliding doors as they open.
Aleister: Thanks. You too.
Walking through the doors, I calmly swivel my body to the right and make my way down the concrete pathway that annexes the airport and the parking lot, before swiveling left and entering the parking lot. There are only 3 cars in the lot.
A lime green 2017 model Chevrolet Sonic, a khaki 2015 model Jeep Cherokee. Belonging to the solitary staff member inside the airport and the security guard, and my car.
A jet black 2019 model BMW X5 with custom chrome wheels and license plates that read "INVS", or "Invictus". It was a twenty-first birthday present from my mother, who knew that BNW was always my favorite model of car, ever since I was a child. Reaching the car, I place the duffel bag atop the trunk.
Opening it, I pull out my keys before opening the trunk, zipping it closed prior to lifting and placing my duffel bag inside, then closing the trunk before walking over to the driver's side door. Placing the key into the lock, I turn it clockwise, placing my hand on the door handle. Pulling it open as I pull the key out and step into the car.
Sitting down atop the midnight black freshly cleaned and polished leather seat. Closing the door, I place the key into the ignition, pull over my seatbelt, and buckle it in before turning the ignition on and reversing the car. Getting ready to leave the airport.
SCENE THREE.
Hey, Aleister.
The gruff yet calm tones of this voice vibrate through my eardrums, as I sit atop a chocolate painted oak chair in front of an old wrestling ring, within the gym of the man who I stated was the biggest influence on me, both inside and outside of the ring. The man who I can admit is the reason I even got into wrestling in the first place. Troy Finn.
Tilting my head over my left shoulder, I notice his 6'6" frame standing there, wearing a snow white wife beater, black tracksuit pants, and jet black Adidas sneakers that have sky blue accents down the left side. He looks at me, a solemn but gentle smile across his face.
Troy: You know the gym's closed, right?
I slowly nod my head.
Troy: So, why are you here?
I lift my shoulders up, shrugging. I managed to get in using a key that Troy had given me in 2018. As a means to get extra hours of work in, if I felt I needed to. Something that I had taken up on at least five occasions when I had come home from Japan. Placing his right hand atop my left shoulder, Troy smiles.
Troy: I know you just want to get your workout in, but state regulations. You know they'd be on me if they found out I let you work out in here.
I softly laugh, nodding my head. He's right. The state athletic commission WOULD be on his back about this.
Aleister: Sorry. I just needed some time alone to think. Especially with my debut in the OPW coming up and the expectations that I have put on myself.
Troy glances downward, looking deep into my eyes. He wasn't expecting me to admit that expectations. That pressure would get to me. Especially am I'm usually the one thriving. The one who lives off the pressure. I have done just that most of my life anyway. Now though, it's different. It's not just pressure to succeed. The pressure to back my shit up. I can live with that. I expect that.
No. This is a different form of pressure. This is pressure built from within. The pressure that I alone, have put on myself. Thriving isn't enough for me anymore. Success isn't all I need to achieve. I know that I NEED to be the best. That it's not just about wanting to be the cream of the crop. No. I NEED to be the cream of the crop. Otherwise, everything else will be a failure.
Troy's expression remains calm and warm, as he realizes what I meant by my last statement. It's the exact same discussion we had when I signed up with the JWL. The same conversation we had when I was preparing to compete in Ichiban Pro for the first time.
It's a thread that has been common for is to discuss throughout my career. Each time, his advice has been the same. Grind and show them what you can do, and everything else will fall into place.
Troy: You know those are ALWAYS going to be there. That people are always going to hold high expectations for anybody who walks through those doors. Especially when you walk in and talk like you run the place.
Troy shakes his head in a disapproving manner before softly laughing.
Troy: You were the same way in here. Though I must admit, that is one of the traits I admire most about you, Aleister. You have swagger and self-belief. Two things you NEED if you're going to thrive in this industry, as you have so far in your career.
I nod, my bottom lip slowly curling up into a smile. Knowing that Troy is telling the truth and one of the most important lessons he taught me in this very gym. That of I was going to make anything out of my career, I needed to be confident in myself. I needed to believe that not only that I could be the best, but that I WOULD be the best. Advice that I hold close to my heart.
Aleister: I know. I learned from the best, after all.
Troy wryly smiles, knowing I'm right.
Troy: I won't deny that.
I slowly rise from the chair, pivoting my body so that I'm directly facing Troy. He softly laughs, noticing how quickly I was able to arrive at a vertical position.
Troy: I see you added cat-like reflexes to your repertoire. You learn that in Japan?
My face contorting into a cringe, I repress a small laugh after Troy's attempt at humor. It's one of the rare flaws he has. When it comes to comedy, he's got a very ... dry sense of humor. Dad jokes is the best way I can put it, seeing as he is also my stepdad. Embarrassing but normally, he only pulls them out when with his friends. Not usually around me.
Aleister: Troy ...
Glancing at me, he calmly laughs. Realizing what he had just said.
Troy: Sorry. Seriously though, your reflexes have improved since you were last in here. I still remember when you couldn't even react to a simple clothesline.
I laugh. I had honestly blocked those times out of my thoughts, but they're true. There had been a time when I struggled with even the most basic of concepts in the ring. A time where Troy had even pulled me aside and told me that he didn't even think I should have considered wrestling an option. That I wouldn't make it in the industry. I can admit, back then, he was probably right.
Look at me now though. The comparison is literally night and day between where I was then and where I am now. Nodding, Troy simply smirks at me, knowing how deep that memory would've cut.
Aleister: I proved you wrong though.
My voice calm, I feel my mouth curling into an arrogant smile, whilst Troy nods and laughs.
Troy: You did, and I couldn't be happier. I'm proud of how far you have come, Aleister. Both as a wrestler AND as a person. So is your mom.
He takes his hand off my shoulder, placing it back by his side before swiveling his body around. Turning towards the front of the gym and preparing to head back home. Leaving me to survey the gym and the vast, empty space that would usually be filled with equipment. The void, that we don't know when it will be filled again. Sighing, I watch as Troy begins to walk, though he only takes six steps before turning around to face me again.
Troy: Want to come back home? Your mom misses you a lot and I know she's beaming with pride that you signed with OPW. We both know this is the stage that you deserve.
I slightly shake my head as Troy pivots back around.
Aleister: Maybe later. I have to go see Cassandra first, then run a few errands.
Troy: Okay. The door's ALWAYS open, whenever you want to drop in and visit.
I nod as the sound of his footsteps resonates throughout the gym, whilst I glance back at the ring. Knowing that soon, OPW will experience first-hand, what it means to be "Invictus". What it takes, to be the best in the game.
SCENE FOUR.
I sit on the soft cotton carpet in the center of a dimly lit room, three wax candles positioned in an orderly row in front of me. My midnight black cotton T-shirt with a blood-stained moon on the center loosely brushing my skin. As are my midnight black nylon tracksuit pants. Staring forward coldly, I ensure my eyes are directly looking into the lens of the camera positioned six feet in front of me as a cold, sinister smile crosses my face.
Aleister: Are you afraid Demon X? Are you coming to the realization that your debut. Your moment in the sun, is all a means to expose you? To showcase that you just aren't able to stack up? That you don't have the tools to step into that ring against me?
I maintain the smile, the reflection of the candle's flames reflecting off the surface of my deep blue eyes. My face holding an expression fitting of the statement "if looks could kill...".
Aleister: I don't blame you. There's not a single person on this roster. In this business that can stand up against me. That can match me in the ring. You're just the first name that has been thrown to the wolves. The first example to the roster, of what happens if you even as much as THINK you have a chance of walking out of the match with a victory. Or even walking out of the match at all.
I lower my voice into a chilling whisper, as the flames continue to reflect off my eyes.
Aleister: You won't.
My smile molding itself into a stoic expression, I continue glaring into the camera. The intensity rising throughout my body with each word that flows from my mouth.
Aleister: You're not just stepping into the ring against anyone, Demon. You're not facing an opponent who has come off the streets and anointed himself the best. Expecting people to simply believe it. No. I anointed myself as the best because I AM the best. You just haven't realized it yet. In that ring, there is NOBODY who can do the things that I do. There is NOBODY that can even hold a candle to me.
There was nobody in Japan, nobody in England that could. So, what makes you different from some of the best wrestlers this industry has to offer? Why should I fear you, any more than I feared them? Especially when I didn't fear them at all. I ain't seeing a reason why, when I look at you.
I let a soft breath float into the air, as I tilt my head down slightly. Staring deep into the flame of the middle candle. Watching as it dances on the wick.
Aleister: I see a man who thinks that he can compete. A man who calls himself "Demon" because he believes that it will induce fear within his opponents. That they will be too afraid to face him in the middle of the ring. That his name is all he needs when the truth is: he is the one who is afraid. He is the one that doesn't want to step into the ring as he knows that if he does, his little veil will be pulled off. That the truth about him will be exposed. Out there for each and every person in the world to see...
I smile as I raise my head back up, staring deep into the camera lens.
Aleister: ... That he simply doesn't have the ability. The balls to complete. That when it comes to the measuring stick, he falls short. To you, this week is what you fear most. To me, this week is an exhibition. A showcase for just what will happen each and every time somebody is forced to step into that ring. Forced to look me in the eyes and back themselves up. Forced to be a man. One by one.
Tilting my face downward, I blow out the candle on the right-hand side. Leaving the other two to continue burning. Sizzling with each passing second whilst I tilt my head up once more.
Aleister: This week, you learn what it means to fall before "Invictus". Demon, I hope you're ready, because come Showcase: you're about to be left to stare up at the lights, as my star. My story begins. Trust me.
I place my hands on the carpet, pushing myself upwards as I blow the final two candles out. Plunging the room into darkness, save of the dim yellow hue of the ceiling light. One, that isn't enough to provide any significant visual imagery.
Soon enough, the road. The message of Invictus will radiate throughout OPW, and there will be NOTHING anybody on the roster can do about it. No matter what they try. Trust me.
I'd love to say it isn't personal, it's just business but to me: this shit IS personal. It has to be if you're going to have any success in this business. That's something I learned early on in my career. This business isn't about how you feel. It's not about playing nice with others and biding your time. Paying your dues. Those are things people say to try and make your stay in your cage. Lock you in and keep you chained down. That shit ain't going to work with me.
I KNOW this business is dog eat dog. You got to be hungry. You got to force them to listen to you. Make them realize that you're willing to induce a shock to their systems. That the landscape they have come to know. That they have come to be comfortable with, is changing and that all they can do, is sit back and watch it all unfold before their very eyes. Just like the rest of them.
Just as those who witnessed it in Japan had no choice but to watch whilst I made my name. Whilst I changed the game over there, the same is about to occur in OPW. It's inevitable. Has been ever since I signed on the dotted line and made it official I was on the roster. Ever since I walked through those doors.
It's no longer a question of "if" I will become the best, but "when" will I become the best. The answer is: I've BEEN the best. I haven't needed to step into the ring to prove that. I don't need to step into the ring to prove it either. Just ask yourself. Is there ANYBODY on the roster that can hang with me?
Is there ANYBODY on this roster that can last in that ring against me? I ain't seeing any names that come close to what I can do. No names that can even claim to be near my level, let alone on it. They know it too.
If they don't want to admit it now, that's on them. I'll leave them with no choice but to admit it once we step between those ropes. Provided they don't shy away from the challenge. That they actually are men, though that might be asking too much from them.
After all, as I stated when I first arrived: this roster is full of FRAUDS who want to pretend they're men, but would rather not PROVE they are. Something all too common nowadays. They'd rather prance around and pretend this is ballet rather than scratch. Rather than claw and risk breaking a nail. Or messing up their image. Got to look good for the cameras. Got to look good so Hollywood notices them.
If they noticed you, you wouldn't be here right now. You wouldn't be stepping into that ring. You are, though. So you should focus more on this and less on whether your face would look good on a Hollywood poster. Maybe then I'd take you seriously.
For now, though, you're just a step. A bump in the road for me. Ones that I will simply step over as I look down at you. Disappointed that you never even tried to stop me.
One by One.
SCENE ONE
I sit atop a cream-colored two-seat couch, within Room 217 at the Holiday Inn Hotel. The floor is lined with rose cotton carpet, the walls are painted in a bright sunflower yellow with five different pieces of artwork hanging up on the walls. Each depicting a different part of the city and there for the visitors to appreciate and add to the life of the hotel room. Make it feel more like you're back at home, as much as a hotel room can be.
There's a forty-two inch Sony television about five feet in front of where I'm sitting, atop a polished mahogany table, that has two compartments that can easily fit a PlayStation and a DVD collection. Which, aside from an assortment of six DVDs that I have stacked up on the bottom shelf, I didn't bring along with me.
Not because I didn't expect to be coming to Allentown. I did. It's more that I'm not really a big "gamer". I play video games, but not religiously, and see it more as a hobby rather than something I'm committed to.
I'd rather spend my time either sightseeing or in the gym, making sure that I'm in the best shape I possibly can be. That I ain't going to be getting gassed two minutes into a match, something that is commonplace in wrestling. It's one of the many things that separates me from the pack.
The DVDs came along because I still need something to do in order to unwind and help me relax, and watching a movie does that. Whether it be the Dark Knight if I want something gritty or the Hangover if I'm feeling like watching something more comedic, movies have always been the one constant when I'm in a hotel room.
It was in Japan and England, so why would I change that now? Exhaling slightly, I feel a slight yawn leave my lips as I glance down at my iPhone 9 positioned atop the nylon fabric of my crimson red shorts, gently tapping the screen to check the time.
11:25 PM.
Sliding my finger across the screen, I click on the messages icon, noticing I have seven unread messages. The majority of them being from friends and family. Either congratulating me on signing with OPW or telling me they saw me on Showcase. Clicking on each of them, I read through before clicking back. I'll reply to them in the morning when I wake up.
Right now though, I intend on just putting on the Hangover then heading to bed, as I have to be awake in time to check out of the hotel at 9 AM and catch a 10:30 AM flight back home to Oklahoma City. Exiting my messages, I place the phone on the left-hand side armrest and stand up, before walking over to the table and kneeling down.
Placing my right hand on the Hangover's case, I pull it out, open it, then slowly and gently extract the DVD from the case, before putting it into the jet black Sony DVD player on the top shelf, then make my way back to the couch. Grasping the TV remote that was on the right-hand armrest, I press the "on" button, before pushing the "play" button that is conveniently placed on the bottom of the remote before placing it back down. Laying back and getting myself prepared to watch the movie as another yawn escapes from my lips.
SCENE TWO.
The following day, I walk across the vinyl floors of the Will Rogers airport, carrying my jet black duffel bag in my right hand and attired in a plain amber cotton t-shirt, black basketball shorts and my favorite pair of snow white Nike sneakers, having arrived back home from Allentown an hour prior.
Glancing around, I notice how empty the airport is, compared to usual but also remember that we are in a pandemic, so travel options are limited for the most part. It makes it easier to get through the airport and to my car, so I'm not about to sit here and complain about it. Anything that makes the ability to get home and relax smoother is a plus in my book.
Especially with how much time I have already spent in airports throughout the duration of my life. I wouldn't change it for the world though, even if sometimes it gets tedious having to squeeze through small gaps between others. Smiling to myself, I continue to walk, occasionally stopping to peer out the window at the equally vacant parking lot before exhaling and absorbing the peace and quiet.
It's so quiet, that the loudest sound is that of my footsteps echoing as they hit the vinyl. Laughing slightly to myself, I swivel my body to the left, beginning to make my way to the glass double doors that signal the exit as I notice a singular security guard, dressed in pearl cotton shirt, denim jeans, and polished coffee brown leather cowboy style boots.
Security Guard: Stay safe..
I nod politely at him, as I make my way to the sliding doors as they open.
Aleister: Thanks. You too.
Walking through the doors, I calmly swivel my body to the right and make my way down the concrete pathway that annexes the airport and the parking lot, before swiveling left and entering the parking lot. There are only 3 cars in the lot.
A lime green 2017 model Chevrolet Sonic, a khaki 2015 model Jeep Cherokee. Belonging to the solitary staff member inside the airport and the security guard, and my car.
A jet black 2019 model BMW X5 with custom chrome wheels and license plates that read "INVS", or "Invictus". It was a twenty-first birthday present from my mother, who knew that BNW was always my favorite model of car, ever since I was a child. Reaching the car, I place the duffel bag atop the trunk.
Opening it, I pull out my keys before opening the trunk, zipping it closed prior to lifting and placing my duffel bag inside, then closing the trunk before walking over to the driver's side door. Placing the key into the lock, I turn it clockwise, placing my hand on the door handle. Pulling it open as I pull the key out and step into the car.
Sitting down atop the midnight black freshly cleaned and polished leather seat. Closing the door, I place the key into the ignition, pull over my seatbelt, and buckle it in before turning the ignition on and reversing the car. Getting ready to leave the airport.
SCENE THREE.
Hey, Aleister.
The gruff yet calm tones of this voice vibrate through my eardrums, as I sit atop a chocolate painted oak chair in front of an old wrestling ring, within the gym of the man who I stated was the biggest influence on me, both inside and outside of the ring. The man who I can admit is the reason I even got into wrestling in the first place. Troy Finn.
Tilting my head over my left shoulder, I notice his 6'6" frame standing there, wearing a snow white wife beater, black tracksuit pants, and jet black Adidas sneakers that have sky blue accents down the left side. He looks at me, a solemn but gentle smile across his face.
Troy: You know the gym's closed, right?
I slowly nod my head.
Troy: So, why are you here?
I lift my shoulders up, shrugging. I managed to get in using a key that Troy had given me in 2018. As a means to get extra hours of work in, if I felt I needed to. Something that I had taken up on at least five occasions when I had come home from Japan. Placing his right hand atop my left shoulder, Troy smiles.
Troy: I know you just want to get your workout in, but state regulations. You know they'd be on me if they found out I let you work out in here.
I softly laugh, nodding my head. He's right. The state athletic commission WOULD be on his back about this.
Aleister: Sorry. I just needed some time alone to think. Especially with my debut in the OPW coming up and the expectations that I have put on myself.
Troy glances downward, looking deep into my eyes. He wasn't expecting me to admit that expectations. That pressure would get to me. Especially am I'm usually the one thriving. The one who lives off the pressure. I have done just that most of my life anyway. Now though, it's different. It's not just pressure to succeed. The pressure to back my shit up. I can live with that. I expect that.
No. This is a different form of pressure. This is pressure built from within. The pressure that I alone, have put on myself. Thriving isn't enough for me anymore. Success isn't all I need to achieve. I know that I NEED to be the best. That it's not just about wanting to be the cream of the crop. No. I NEED to be the cream of the crop. Otherwise, everything else will be a failure.
Troy's expression remains calm and warm, as he realizes what I meant by my last statement. It's the exact same discussion we had when I signed up with the JWL. The same conversation we had when I was preparing to compete in Ichiban Pro for the first time.
It's a thread that has been common for is to discuss throughout my career. Each time, his advice has been the same. Grind and show them what you can do, and everything else will fall into place.
Troy: You know those are ALWAYS going to be there. That people are always going to hold high expectations for anybody who walks through those doors. Especially when you walk in and talk like you run the place.
Troy shakes his head in a disapproving manner before softly laughing.
Troy: You were the same way in here. Though I must admit, that is one of the traits I admire most about you, Aleister. You have swagger and self-belief. Two things you NEED if you're going to thrive in this industry, as you have so far in your career.
I nod, my bottom lip slowly curling up into a smile. Knowing that Troy is telling the truth and one of the most important lessons he taught me in this very gym. That of I was going to make anything out of my career, I needed to be confident in myself. I needed to believe that not only that I could be the best, but that I WOULD be the best. Advice that I hold close to my heart.
Aleister: I know. I learned from the best, after all.
Troy wryly smiles, knowing I'm right.
Troy: I won't deny that.
I slowly rise from the chair, pivoting my body so that I'm directly facing Troy. He softly laughs, noticing how quickly I was able to arrive at a vertical position.
Troy: I see you added cat-like reflexes to your repertoire. You learn that in Japan?
My face contorting into a cringe, I repress a small laugh after Troy's attempt at humor. It's one of the rare flaws he has. When it comes to comedy, he's got a very ... dry sense of humor. Dad jokes is the best way I can put it, seeing as he is also my stepdad. Embarrassing but normally, he only pulls them out when with his friends. Not usually around me.
Aleister: Troy ...
Glancing at me, he calmly laughs. Realizing what he had just said.
Troy: Sorry. Seriously though, your reflexes have improved since you were last in here. I still remember when you couldn't even react to a simple clothesline.
I laugh. I had honestly blocked those times out of my thoughts, but they're true. There had been a time when I struggled with even the most basic of concepts in the ring. A time where Troy had even pulled me aside and told me that he didn't even think I should have considered wrestling an option. That I wouldn't make it in the industry. I can admit, back then, he was probably right.
Look at me now though. The comparison is literally night and day between where I was then and where I am now. Nodding, Troy simply smirks at me, knowing how deep that memory would've cut.
Aleister: I proved you wrong though.
My voice calm, I feel my mouth curling into an arrogant smile, whilst Troy nods and laughs.
Troy: You did, and I couldn't be happier. I'm proud of how far you have come, Aleister. Both as a wrestler AND as a person. So is your mom.
He takes his hand off my shoulder, placing it back by his side before swiveling his body around. Turning towards the front of the gym and preparing to head back home. Leaving me to survey the gym and the vast, empty space that would usually be filled with equipment. The void, that we don't know when it will be filled again. Sighing, I watch as Troy begins to walk, though he only takes six steps before turning around to face me again.
Troy: Want to come back home? Your mom misses you a lot and I know she's beaming with pride that you signed with OPW. We both know this is the stage that you deserve.
I slightly shake my head as Troy pivots back around.
Aleister: Maybe later. I have to go see Cassandra first, then run a few errands.
Troy: Okay. The door's ALWAYS open, whenever you want to drop in and visit.
I nod as the sound of his footsteps resonates throughout the gym, whilst I glance back at the ring. Knowing that soon, OPW will experience first-hand, what it means to be "Invictus". What it takes, to be the best in the game.
SCENE FOUR.
I sit on the soft cotton carpet in the center of a dimly lit room, three wax candles positioned in an orderly row in front of me. My midnight black cotton T-shirt with a blood-stained moon on the center loosely brushing my skin. As are my midnight black nylon tracksuit pants. Staring forward coldly, I ensure my eyes are directly looking into the lens of the camera positioned six feet in front of me as a cold, sinister smile crosses my face.
Aleister: Are you afraid Demon X? Are you coming to the realization that your debut. Your moment in the sun, is all a means to expose you? To showcase that you just aren't able to stack up? That you don't have the tools to step into that ring against me?
I maintain the smile, the reflection of the candle's flames reflecting off the surface of my deep blue eyes. My face holding an expression fitting of the statement "if looks could kill...".
Aleister: I don't blame you. There's not a single person on this roster. In this business that can stand up against me. That can match me in the ring. You're just the first name that has been thrown to the wolves. The first example to the roster, of what happens if you even as much as THINK you have a chance of walking out of the match with a victory. Or even walking out of the match at all.
I lower my voice into a chilling whisper, as the flames continue to reflect off my eyes.
Aleister: You won't.
My smile molding itself into a stoic expression, I continue glaring into the camera. The intensity rising throughout my body with each word that flows from my mouth.
Aleister: You're not just stepping into the ring against anyone, Demon. You're not facing an opponent who has come off the streets and anointed himself the best. Expecting people to simply believe it. No. I anointed myself as the best because I AM the best. You just haven't realized it yet. In that ring, there is NOBODY who can do the things that I do. There is NOBODY that can even hold a candle to me.
There was nobody in Japan, nobody in England that could. So, what makes you different from some of the best wrestlers this industry has to offer? Why should I fear you, any more than I feared them? Especially when I didn't fear them at all. I ain't seeing a reason why, when I look at you.
I let a soft breath float into the air, as I tilt my head down slightly. Staring deep into the flame of the middle candle. Watching as it dances on the wick.
Aleister: I see a man who thinks that he can compete. A man who calls himself "Demon" because he believes that it will induce fear within his opponents. That they will be too afraid to face him in the middle of the ring. That his name is all he needs when the truth is: he is the one who is afraid. He is the one that doesn't want to step into the ring as he knows that if he does, his little veil will be pulled off. That the truth about him will be exposed. Out there for each and every person in the world to see...
I smile as I raise my head back up, staring deep into the camera lens.
Aleister: ... That he simply doesn't have the ability. The balls to complete. That when it comes to the measuring stick, he falls short. To you, this week is what you fear most. To me, this week is an exhibition. A showcase for just what will happen each and every time somebody is forced to step into that ring. Forced to look me in the eyes and back themselves up. Forced to be a man. One by one.
Tilting my face downward, I blow out the candle on the right-hand side. Leaving the other two to continue burning. Sizzling with each passing second whilst I tilt my head up once more.
Aleister: This week, you learn what it means to fall before "Invictus". Demon, I hope you're ready, because come Showcase: you're about to be left to stare up at the lights, as my star. My story begins. Trust me.
I place my hands on the carpet, pushing myself upwards as I blow the final two candles out. Plunging the room into darkness, save of the dim yellow hue of the ceiling light. One, that isn't enough to provide any significant visual imagery.
Soon enough, the road. The message of Invictus will radiate throughout OPW, and there will be NOTHING anybody on the roster can do about it. No matter what they try. Trust me.