A coin spins effortlessly in mid-air, and as it does it soaks up all of the immediate pessimism radiating from the surroundings, gleefully defient as it it may neve make it's inevitable descent. But there is no way of overcoming inevitability.
The return to Earth reflected many things; the flicker of electric lights being tested by numerous stage hands and various other similarly ranked grunts, the dash of protruding sunlight unwelcomed in the murkiness of a midday hallway, but most memorably the eyes of the beholder, the one who is waiting so very impatiently for an unwanted guest.
The thin, short black hair and outstretched legs set aside a recognizable sight. Justin Cooper's eyes darted from his distraction to his purpose, beneath the entrance way of the arena. He let out the latest in a long series of sighs; each more dense and laboured than the last, and at last his patience (only toilet paper thin to begin with) was really starting to wear down to the bone. Any second now he would conveniently forget his contractual obligations and this whole metor programme and slip out the back door. But then a sight that both alleviated his lungs but ignited his heart simultaneously. He sprang with feline prowess from the large box that housed technical equipment, demonstrating no sign of the twinge of pain that greeted his knee.
He marched across the tiles with definitive purpose. WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!
But I-
NEVERMIND 'BUT'! IT'S BAD ENOUGH THAT I HAVE TO BABYSIT A GROWN MAN FOR THE DAY. BUT YOU COME TO LEARN FROM ME, TO SEEK KNOWLEDGE FROM ME, AND YOU KEEP ME WAITING I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW LONG. I DON'T NEED THIS, I'VE A GOOD MIND TO JUST WALK RIGHT OUT OF HERE AND LEAVE YOU ON YOUR OWN TO SINK IN YOUR MATCH THIS WEEK.
Well I ca-
'A-ba-ba-ba', Cooper said, wagging his finger at the statuesque figure of Logan Burnside, a man who towers over most others and yet seemed only an inch tall after the verbal thrashing he'd just recieved at the bark of his would-be mentor for his match at Ascension this week. Lucky for you I am not so rash. I know that I've drawn a good pick here and with my help you and I are going to have one successful week of wrestling, but only IF.... if you can follow my lead.
Well that's what I been ordered to do anyway!
Ordered? Whatever. Aright, follow me. They passed doorway after doorway in the modern labyrinth. Hallways melted into each other until they were traversing nothing more than an unconcstructed maze. Cooper stopped suddenly. Here we are.
The sign on the door said 'STORAGE' Go on, urged Cooper hurriedly.
It is what it says on the label. There is no locker, or bench, or eating area, shower, other people. There is mops, brooms, buckets and all other sorts of items that you usually find in a storage room. Needless to say, you could probably conclude that this room was a storage room. So why had Cooper brought him here?
Alright I wanna hear your interview.
.....my... huh?
Your interview! For your match. I wanna know what you've got planned. If you're coming out as my protoge, I wanna know how you're planning to put yourself accross. I'm not letting any lame speeches soil my name.
Uhm.... I didn't really think about it yet.
YOU DID- you didn't think about it?! Look, this is the big leagues guy, if people here you choke they won't even care who you beat, all they'll see is some jacked up idiot..-NOT... that you're, hehe, an idiot or.. anything... joked Cooper trying not to raise the ire of the big man. Alright, just...y'know, improvise or whatever. You're gonna have to do it some time or another, might as well start with a capable audience.
Well I- he clears his throat -I... Okay. S-scott Williams, y-your - in our match next week when we have a match, you're gonna, umm, wish you were never born or? Yeah. No, umm, I'm a-a freight train. Yeah. And I'm gonna roll over everybody and you're just the first guy that I roll over, so y'know what don't even turn up. Just - because I'd just run you over, so don't turn up ya hear. I'm hootin'. Burnside just stared resentfully into the middle distance. The middle distance never had to down talk an opponent on the spot.
Oh....no....Was that? That's it? THAT'S IT! Look I know it's a first attempt but wow. You're gonna have to do something about that before your match otherwise I'm not going to turn up, honestly. I think you need to-
Oh sorry. I forgot about this. Logan detached a square of yellow paper neatly folded and clipped into the inside of his jacket. He retrieved it and worked on trying to unfold the paper in a rather cumbersome way. About as cumbersome as you can be when unfolding paper, Logan didn't have the composure to be any less cumbersome in such delecate situations.
<Clears throat> So many times you hear the tired cli-chess (cliches) or how a man is going to come into a company, take the whole place by storm and change the face of things forever. Has it even been true? Has one man ever altered the world around him to suit his whims to such a degree that he becomes the centre, the be-all and end-all of his world. Not once. The storm dies down before it ever even reaches the beach and ends up as a tame never-was. Dissappointment after dissappointment. I can't speak for anybody else but I won't make any such claims. I won't need to tell you what I'm going to do. Before you know it, the winds of change will be swirling un-con-tro-lee (uncontrollably) around you and it'll be too late to do anything about it. The gravitas of the words is being discarded because of the lack of appreciation for the meaning and context and there is a clear communicating, or lack thereof, of this in Logan's monotonous delivery.
He continues. Scott Williams doesn't even register on my Ritch-ter (Richter) scale. I see you but my eyes keep travelling up...upward. You are all going to learn too soon that I, umm, don't blow smoke, I breathe fire and those who insist on opposing me will be met? Oh sorry. Will be met by... nothing short of the most in-tens (intense) pain. With my faith in my mentor Justin Cooper, no-one is safe, nobody too well hidden that I could and would not seek out with the slightest ink-lin-ash-on, -ation, inclination, and no length is too me-gre (meagre) for me to undergo to see that I am the last name that leaves the lips of every person in the audience, and every person who dwells backstage every night, every conversation. I haven't even begun... I slipped coffee on this last bit, nevermind. S'at any better.
Cooper stares at Burnside with two distinct expressions recognized within one. An overwhelming confusion yet a tainted grin. I don't know what... that was.. but it was... wow. Better. Much better. WOW. Where did you get that from?
Oh, umm, I wrote it. said Burnside, not at all convincingly.
O....K well, OK. Logan, I think you and I are going to be alright.
Really Crooper?
It's... Cooper. And yes. Yes I think we need not be worried big guy, we've got this one in...the... bag. He punches the air with every last syllable before heading back towards the door. He turns to give Logan a final grin that goes over the head of the big guy before turning sharply again.
Burnside just folds up his paper, wipes his hair with his hands, scratches his chin, gazes up at the ceiling for a few seconds before saying, "I'm Hungry".
