MD98: Mikey Stormrage vs. Drake Callahan (Non Title)
- Thread starter Harthan
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Richard Blonoff
Make America Rassle Again
I slid the card to unlock the door to my hotel room and stepped inside. I flipped the switch to turn on the lights, but there was only the sound of the plastic switch clicking over. I walked over to the bed, the only light in the room coming through the cracks in the curtains, and flopped down. As I dropped my bag to the ground, it fell open. Instead of the mask that had protected and shielded me from the horrors and ugliness of the world, it was my EurAsian title that fell to the floor. I picked up the gold laden strap and for the first time since I left Europe, I allowed myself to take it in. I was EurAsian champion. Me, Mikey Stormrage, the fat sidekick, the kid from small town Indiana, the guy that held James Howard back, had won arguably the second biggest title in our sport. I had beat James to win that title. I had my storybook ending, my fairy tail win. Except in fairy tails the bad guy wasn't supposed to win. I draped the title over my bag and took a moment before my next thought set in. I was the bad guy.
I fell back onto the bed, the stucco ceiling barely lit by the thin rays of light. As I lie there, allowing my mind to wander, jet lag began to take hold and as my eyes became heavy, the rough, jagged shapes in the ceiling began to blur as I struggled to hold my eyes open.
As the small plane I was on came to a landing, I looked out the window and couldn't help but smile. When the door opened I could already hear the fans that were awaiting me. I couldn't wait for the ladder to be wheeled into place, I stepped to the door and poked my head out and the crowd below lost it. Finally the ladder was in place and I took a step out. After a brief pause I hoisted my title above my head and the crowd went ballistic. They were all ages and sizes. Young to old, short to tall, black or white, they were all there for me. To cheer me and congratulate me on my victory. I had vanquished my demons and overcome my fears. I was champion, I was a hero.
"Mikey! Mikey! Mikey! Mikey!"
Each step I took down, the cheers grew louder until my feet hit the tarmac and the crowd mobbed me. At times it was rough, my hair was pulled, I was elbowed, but I didn't care. It was ecstasy. I was a hero to these people. I was finally accepted and loved. For the first time in my life, I was beautiful, and these people, my people, shared in that beauty.
"Mikey! Mikey! Mikey! Mikey! Mikey".....
The sound of the cheering slowly dyed down and was replaced by knocking. I opened my eyes and the images above my head slowly morphed to their original shape. I sat up as the knocking continued.
"Maintenance!"
I stood and walked to the door. Peering through the peephole I saw it was indeed the maintenance man, and from the numerous florescent lights on his cart, I wasn't the only room with lighting issues. I opened the door and poked my head out. My unkempt appearance caused him to recoil a bit as I spoke.
"Can I help you?"
"Sorry to bother you, but a breaker issue knocked out the lights on most of the floor. Have you been experience any issues?"
I simply nodded and he said he would be back soon to replace the lights and to talk to the front desk about a reduced rate due to the outage. As I walked back into my room, I saw the glow of my phone from just inside my bag. I checked the message to learn that I would be facing Drake Callahan on Meltdown this week. I slipped my phone into my pocket and began to think of the recent parallels in my own career to those of Drake's just a short time ago. For a long time Drake was a fan favorite. He was adored and welcomed everywhere he went. The crowds would chant his name as he wrestled, and win or lose they supported him. That support got him practically nothing, so he abandoned who he was and turned on everything he knew, and it lead him to glory. When his hand was raised high and he was announced as World Champion, the crowd showered him with boos.
I took a moment to pick up the mask that had become my shield. I turned my back on my friend, on the fans, and I walked into the lion's den and I came out a conqueror. The old, naive me could never have survived it, but the new me, the reborn Mikey Stormrage, walked into a hostile territory with nothing but my shield and planted my flag firmly in the dirt. There was no victory parade, no celebration, only boos that blanketed me much like the snow that blanketed much of the country. Maybe hell had frozen over when it realized what I had become.
There was a knock at the door and I placed my mask on my face. I ignored the knocking, because alone in the darkness was exactly where a monster like myself deserved to be. And in that darkness I would grow as other monsters had before me. There was no denying it any longer, I knew who I was, I knew my place in this ugly world. Could Drake Callahan say the same?
I fell back onto the bed, the stucco ceiling barely lit by the thin rays of light. As I lie there, allowing my mind to wander, jet lag began to take hold and as my eyes became heavy, the rough, jagged shapes in the ceiling began to blur as I struggled to hold my eyes open.
As the small plane I was on came to a landing, I looked out the window and couldn't help but smile. When the door opened I could already hear the fans that were awaiting me. I couldn't wait for the ladder to be wheeled into place, I stepped to the door and poked my head out and the crowd below lost it. Finally the ladder was in place and I took a step out. After a brief pause I hoisted my title above my head and the crowd went ballistic. They were all ages and sizes. Young to old, short to tall, black or white, they were all there for me. To cheer me and congratulate me on my victory. I had vanquished my demons and overcome my fears. I was champion, I was a hero.
"Mikey! Mikey! Mikey! Mikey!"
Each step I took down, the cheers grew louder until my feet hit the tarmac and the crowd mobbed me. At times it was rough, my hair was pulled, I was elbowed, but I didn't care. It was ecstasy. I was a hero to these people. I was finally accepted and loved. For the first time in my life, I was beautiful, and these people, my people, shared in that beauty.
"Mikey! Mikey! Mikey! Mikey! Mikey".....
The sound of the cheering slowly dyed down and was replaced by knocking. I opened my eyes and the images above my head slowly morphed to their original shape. I sat up as the knocking continued.
"Maintenance!"
I stood and walked to the door. Peering through the peephole I saw it was indeed the maintenance man, and from the numerous florescent lights on his cart, I wasn't the only room with lighting issues. I opened the door and poked my head out. My unkempt appearance caused him to recoil a bit as I spoke.
"Can I help you?"
"Sorry to bother you, but a breaker issue knocked out the lights on most of the floor. Have you been experience any issues?"
I simply nodded and he said he would be back soon to replace the lights and to talk to the front desk about a reduced rate due to the outage. As I walked back into my room, I saw the glow of my phone from just inside my bag. I checked the message to learn that I would be facing Drake Callahan on Meltdown this week. I slipped my phone into my pocket and began to think of the recent parallels in my own career to those of Drake's just a short time ago. For a long time Drake was a fan favorite. He was adored and welcomed everywhere he went. The crowds would chant his name as he wrestled, and win or lose they supported him. That support got him practically nothing, so he abandoned who he was and turned on everything he knew, and it lead him to glory. When his hand was raised high and he was announced as World Champion, the crowd showered him with boos.
I took a moment to pick up the mask that had become my shield. I turned my back on my friend, on the fans, and I walked into the lion's den and I came out a conqueror. The old, naive me could never have survived it, but the new me, the reborn Mikey Stormrage, walked into a hostile territory with nothing but my shield and planted my flag firmly in the dirt. There was no victory parade, no celebration, only boos that blanketed me much like the snow that blanketed much of the country. Maybe hell had frozen over when it realized what I had become.
There was a knock at the door and I placed my mask on my face. I ignored the knocking, because alone in the darkness was exactly where a monster like myself deserved to be. And in that darkness I would grow as other monsters had before me. There was no denying it any longer, I knew who I was, I knew my place in this ugly world. Could Drake Callahan say the same?
I didn't really like the way Max was looking at me, just then.
"I don't even know where to begin, Drake," he said. He sounded grave. Maybe it should have bothered me, but I was finding myself less and less interested in Max's opinion these days.
"You dismissed Stoya, a blatant violation of our contractual agreement. Not to mention that just a few months ago you dismissed myself and Hiraku because you wanted Stoya to handle your case alone. You cheated your way into a match - which is causing me no end of grief from WZCW, by the way - and then lost, making a fool of yourself in the process. I like to look on the bright side, Drake, but I'm having trouble seeing it."
"The last time you looked on the bright side of anything was when you accidentally glanced at the sun, Max. Don't bullshit me."
Max glared at me and I could see his neck muscles tighten. Probably he was making a fist, but his hands were beneath his desk at the moment.
"You want to talk about bullshit, Drake? This entire partnership has been bullshit from the word go. All I've ever gotten from you are demands for this, and that, and the other thing, and I haven't seen any results."
"I won the Lethal Lottery. I main evented Kingdom Come. I - "
"You lost at Kingdom Come. You keep getting opportunity after opportunity and all you do is lose, Drake. What the hell am I supposed to do with you?"
I wanted to snap back at him, but he'd hit too close to home. He wasn't wrong. Every time I got close to a title it eluded my grasp. Everything I had was based on a title win that was looking more and more like a fluke every day. I couldn't even win King for a Day against a pack of rookies. I should have won that match, by all rights - no former world champion had ever competed. I had the experience. Instead, I had been embarrassed and was facing no end of flak for how I got into the match. Somehow must have pulled a prank on Banks, convincing him that Crashin was going to be a big deal. As far as I was concerned, I had done him a favor. But he was pissed that his big reveal had been thwarted. From what I'd heard, he was about ready to stop the show, drag me out of the cage, and fire me on the spot before someone talked him down. I hadn't even been booked for TV yet.
It was worse than that, too. I knew better, but I couldn't help but check out what the Internet was saying about me from time to time. People were actually upset they didn't get to see Crashin wrestle. That's what it had come to. People wanted Doug Crashin more than me.
I realized I had been staring at my hands for a while. I looked up and Max hadn't relented from his glare.
"What do you want me to say, Max? I'm doing everything I know how to do here."
"That's the problem. Everything you know how to do isn't enough. You've been going into business for yourself too much, treating this partnership like we're just here to run errands for you. That's done, Drake, do you understand? Done. You're going to resume traveling with Stoya, but I want you to understand what her job is. You listen to her, and you take her advice, and we'll see where that gets us. Understood?"
"You really expect Stoya to work with me after this?"
"I expect Stoya to be a professional, which is more than I can claim from you recently."
I probably should have argued. After all, Max and Stoya were my agents - they worked for me. But I could hardly argue that I wasn't getting results. So...maybe Max wasn't wrong.
"One more thing. We calmed down Banks, lucky for you. You're working against Stormrage. Can you handle that?"
"Angling for a Eurasian shot? I'm better than that, Max -"
"Then prove it."
I met his glare then for a moment, but looked away before long.
"Fine. Are we done?"
"For now. There's media on the fourth floor. Stoya will meet you there. Get something in for Stormrage and we'll send it over to WZCW."
----
I went to the fourth floor as Max said and, sure enough, there was Stoya. It was as if everything that had warmed in her over the last year had frozen again. She was the same cold, austere figure I had first met. I suppose I should have expected that. She handed me a binder before opening the door to the media room. She said nothing, only pointed me toward a camera. The crew was readying themselves.
I looked at the binder, flipping through it before returning to the first page. It was...
"Lines?"
"Your observational skills are inspiring. For you to read."
"I can cut a promo myself, Stoya."
"This is what Max wants."
"Tell Max no. I have limits."
I gave her the binder - or tried to, anyway. She refused to take it.
I dropped it on the floor. She didn't react. I thought she shrugged - it was almost imperceptible - before she turned on her heel and walked to the corner. I took it as a cue to get in front of the camera. A red light flipped on and I started.
"Here's a question for you, Mikey. You know a lot about throwing things away, don't you? All your old friends, your alliances, even your best friend, James Howard. What do you do, Mikey, when something you tried to throw away comes back?"
I broke eye contact with the camera and tried to look at Stoya, but she was looking at something on her phone.
"Well, I guess you've answered that question. And so have I. Remarkably similar answers we've arrived at, Mikey. I guess you'd say you beat it until it stops coming around. And me, well..."
I shot another look Stoya's way, and this time she was looking at me. Something not far from hate in her eyes.
"I say you teach it it isn't wanted anymore."
Did I really mean that, or was I just trying to hurt her? I couldn't say. I wasn't overly practiced at leaving something and having it come after me. First there was Kate, and look at how that had ended. Was it going to end the same way with Stoya? Did I have it in me? Did I even dare? Max would have my head, and a lawsuit worth more than I could dream of.
Did I even want to?
Besides, I'd like to think I was a different person. Of course, maybe that was the problem.
"Not very different answers, Mikey. But then again, I think there's a difference that you need to understand. Teaching it not to come around isn't the same as showing it it isn't wanted. If you keep an ear to the ground in WZCW, you hear all sorts of interesting things. You hear that Mikey still worries about James Howard. You hear that maybe he regrets what he's done. You hear he's confused. So like a big, rampaging freak you just try to smash your problems until they don't matter anymore. But deep down, I think you wish none of this had ever happened, don't you?"
"Here's a lesson, Mikey. In wrestling, freedom is the greatest power you can have. No restrictions on what you can do. No one to hold you back. You've finally gotten there, left behind everything, abandoned your friend and partner. But even with all the power, Mikey, you're too afraid to use it. I mean, good job, you won the Eurasian championship. Does that mean a lot to you? It shouldn't. You could be world champion right now if only you weren't so focused on beating Howard. You think that you're going to turn that belt into the big one? Do me a favor, ask Black Dragon how that worked out. Ask Triple X how that worked out. You let your delusion and your inability to break free from Howard get you the company's biggest albatross tied firmly around your neck. So good job, really. No, congratulations. Enjoy the midcard."
"I'm going to beat you, Mikey, and they're all going to say how I deserve a title shot. And I will. And I won't take it. Because I don't care about the Eurasian championship. I care about one thing, and one thing only, and that is proving to everyone that I am still the best in this company. So when we're done, Mikey, I'm going to forget about you and keep working my way back to the world title, because that's what I do."
I looked again at Stoya. By this point, she was glaring at me. It was a wonder she hadn't called for the cameras to be cut off yet. I knew what I was saying. I was less free than anyone in this company, with Max and Stoya and everyone in this talent agency trying to pull me this way and that.
Maybe I couldn't shake them the same old way. But odds are if I pissed them off enough, I could get them to shake me. And that would be good enough.
"Ask yourself what you really want, and if it isn't to get rid of Howard forever, lose that useless belt of yours, and become world champion, start doing something different."
I stepped away from the camera and went to the door. On my way, I passed Stoya. She followed me every step of the way. I pulled up short of leaving.
"Are you actually going to send that tape?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Wouldn't have said it if I didn't."
She didn't respond, but nodded slowly.
"We're done here. Talk to the girl in the lobby for your plane ticket and hotel booking. You're due in Columbus in three days. I'll text you."
I nodded back and she stalked out, no doubt making a point of beating me to the door. I thought about saying something, but she was gone too quickly.
Maybe it wouldn't be impossible to win her back. To go back to the way it was and try again. Maybe...
No. I meant what I had said to Mikey. I had to move on, and that meant burning this entire agency down behind me. Metaphorically.
Or not.
"I don't even know where to begin, Drake," he said. He sounded grave. Maybe it should have bothered me, but I was finding myself less and less interested in Max's opinion these days.
"You dismissed Stoya, a blatant violation of our contractual agreement. Not to mention that just a few months ago you dismissed myself and Hiraku because you wanted Stoya to handle your case alone. You cheated your way into a match - which is causing me no end of grief from WZCW, by the way - and then lost, making a fool of yourself in the process. I like to look on the bright side, Drake, but I'm having trouble seeing it."
"The last time you looked on the bright side of anything was when you accidentally glanced at the sun, Max. Don't bullshit me."
Max glared at me and I could see his neck muscles tighten. Probably he was making a fist, but his hands were beneath his desk at the moment.
"You want to talk about bullshit, Drake? This entire partnership has been bullshit from the word go. All I've ever gotten from you are demands for this, and that, and the other thing, and I haven't seen any results."
"I won the Lethal Lottery. I main evented Kingdom Come. I - "
"You lost at Kingdom Come. You keep getting opportunity after opportunity and all you do is lose, Drake. What the hell am I supposed to do with you?"
I wanted to snap back at him, but he'd hit too close to home. He wasn't wrong. Every time I got close to a title it eluded my grasp. Everything I had was based on a title win that was looking more and more like a fluke every day. I couldn't even win King for a Day against a pack of rookies. I should have won that match, by all rights - no former world champion had ever competed. I had the experience. Instead, I had been embarrassed and was facing no end of flak for how I got into the match. Somehow must have pulled a prank on Banks, convincing him that Crashin was going to be a big deal. As far as I was concerned, I had done him a favor. But he was pissed that his big reveal had been thwarted. From what I'd heard, he was about ready to stop the show, drag me out of the cage, and fire me on the spot before someone talked him down. I hadn't even been booked for TV yet.
It was worse than that, too. I knew better, but I couldn't help but check out what the Internet was saying about me from time to time. People were actually upset they didn't get to see Crashin wrestle. That's what it had come to. People wanted Doug Crashin more than me.
I realized I had been staring at my hands for a while. I looked up and Max hadn't relented from his glare.
"What do you want me to say, Max? I'm doing everything I know how to do here."
"That's the problem. Everything you know how to do isn't enough. You've been going into business for yourself too much, treating this partnership like we're just here to run errands for you. That's done, Drake, do you understand? Done. You're going to resume traveling with Stoya, but I want you to understand what her job is. You listen to her, and you take her advice, and we'll see where that gets us. Understood?"
"You really expect Stoya to work with me after this?"
"I expect Stoya to be a professional, which is more than I can claim from you recently."
I probably should have argued. After all, Max and Stoya were my agents - they worked for me. But I could hardly argue that I wasn't getting results. So...maybe Max wasn't wrong.
"One more thing. We calmed down Banks, lucky for you. You're working against Stormrage. Can you handle that?"
"Angling for a Eurasian shot? I'm better than that, Max -"
"Then prove it."
I met his glare then for a moment, but looked away before long.
"Fine. Are we done?"
"For now. There's media on the fourth floor. Stoya will meet you there. Get something in for Stormrage and we'll send it over to WZCW."
----
I went to the fourth floor as Max said and, sure enough, there was Stoya. It was as if everything that had warmed in her over the last year had frozen again. She was the same cold, austere figure I had first met. I suppose I should have expected that. She handed me a binder before opening the door to the media room. She said nothing, only pointed me toward a camera. The crew was readying themselves.
I looked at the binder, flipping through it before returning to the first page. It was...
"Lines?"
"Your observational skills are inspiring. For you to read."
"I can cut a promo myself, Stoya."
"This is what Max wants."
"Tell Max no. I have limits."
I gave her the binder - or tried to, anyway. She refused to take it.
I dropped it on the floor. She didn't react. I thought she shrugged - it was almost imperceptible - before she turned on her heel and walked to the corner. I took it as a cue to get in front of the camera. A red light flipped on and I started.
"Here's a question for you, Mikey. You know a lot about throwing things away, don't you? All your old friends, your alliances, even your best friend, James Howard. What do you do, Mikey, when something you tried to throw away comes back?"
I broke eye contact with the camera and tried to look at Stoya, but she was looking at something on her phone.
"Well, I guess you've answered that question. And so have I. Remarkably similar answers we've arrived at, Mikey. I guess you'd say you beat it until it stops coming around. And me, well..."
I shot another look Stoya's way, and this time she was looking at me. Something not far from hate in her eyes.
"I say you teach it it isn't wanted anymore."
Did I really mean that, or was I just trying to hurt her? I couldn't say. I wasn't overly practiced at leaving something and having it come after me. First there was Kate, and look at how that had ended. Was it going to end the same way with Stoya? Did I have it in me? Did I even dare? Max would have my head, and a lawsuit worth more than I could dream of.
Did I even want to?
Besides, I'd like to think I was a different person. Of course, maybe that was the problem.
"Not very different answers, Mikey. But then again, I think there's a difference that you need to understand. Teaching it not to come around isn't the same as showing it it isn't wanted. If you keep an ear to the ground in WZCW, you hear all sorts of interesting things. You hear that Mikey still worries about James Howard. You hear that maybe he regrets what he's done. You hear he's confused. So like a big, rampaging freak you just try to smash your problems until they don't matter anymore. But deep down, I think you wish none of this had ever happened, don't you?"
"Here's a lesson, Mikey. In wrestling, freedom is the greatest power you can have. No restrictions on what you can do. No one to hold you back. You've finally gotten there, left behind everything, abandoned your friend and partner. But even with all the power, Mikey, you're too afraid to use it. I mean, good job, you won the Eurasian championship. Does that mean a lot to you? It shouldn't. You could be world champion right now if only you weren't so focused on beating Howard. You think that you're going to turn that belt into the big one? Do me a favor, ask Black Dragon how that worked out. Ask Triple X how that worked out. You let your delusion and your inability to break free from Howard get you the company's biggest albatross tied firmly around your neck. So good job, really. No, congratulations. Enjoy the midcard."
"I'm going to beat you, Mikey, and they're all going to say how I deserve a title shot. And I will. And I won't take it. Because I don't care about the Eurasian championship. I care about one thing, and one thing only, and that is proving to everyone that I am still the best in this company. So when we're done, Mikey, I'm going to forget about you and keep working my way back to the world title, because that's what I do."
I looked again at Stoya. By this point, she was glaring at me. It was a wonder she hadn't called for the cameras to be cut off yet. I knew what I was saying. I was less free than anyone in this company, with Max and Stoya and everyone in this talent agency trying to pull me this way and that.
Maybe I couldn't shake them the same old way. But odds are if I pissed them off enough, I could get them to shake me. And that would be good enough.
"Ask yourself what you really want, and if it isn't to get rid of Howard forever, lose that useless belt of yours, and become world champion, start doing something different."
I stepped away from the camera and went to the door. On my way, I passed Stoya. She followed me every step of the way. I pulled up short of leaving.
"Are you actually going to send that tape?"
"Do you want me to?"
"Wouldn't have said it if I didn't."
She didn't respond, but nodded slowly.
"We're done here. Talk to the girl in the lobby for your plane ticket and hotel booking. You're due in Columbus in three days. I'll text you."
I nodded back and she stalked out, no doubt making a point of beating me to the door. I thought about saying something, but she was gone too quickly.
Maybe it wouldn't be impossible to win her back. To go back to the way it was and try again. Maybe...
No. I meant what I had said to Mikey. I had to move on, and that meant burning this entire agency down behind me. Metaphorically.
Or not.
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