"Why is my bed so uncomfortable? It feels like Im lying on concrete..."
With an odd squelch, I open my eyes. But everything seems out of focus, like looking through glasses that arent mine. I close and open my eyes again. While most of it is still blurry, I catch a stop sign out the corner of my eye.
"I dont have a stop sign in my house."
In the background, theres what appears to be a big, brick warehouse.
"I dont have one of those in my house, either
."
With a sickening jolt, everything snaps into focus. Ignoring the painful throbbing in my brain, I look around a little. I know this place. Its around the corner from Forty Fifth Street
I dont live anywhere near here
"Wait, am I lying on the sidewalk?"
I press my hand against the ground beneath me.
"Yes. Yes, I am. Fan-fucking-tastic."
I pick my face up off the ground, feeling pieces of granite cling to my cheek. With a wince of pain, I pick them off and run my fingers along the sore dents that they leave. I slowly but steadily push myself up so Im sitting against the wall of whatever building stands behind me. Its slightly more comfortable than lying on the ground.
I pat down my pockets and sigh a sigh of relief as I feel the unmistakable outline of my cigarettes. Priorities, am I right? I pull them out, dropping them once or twice in the process, and place one between my dry, chapped lips. Pulling my lighter from my other pocket, I light the cigarette up and inhale deeply. Its like toxic heaven.
With the sudden jolt of nicotine, the white noise in my ears gets quieter, the pain in my head gets duller and my thoughts become a bit clearer. I check my pockets again. My phone and wallet are there. As soon as I can stand again, I can go home. If only I can remember what happened last night.
As my hearing begins to focus, a beautiful melody floods my ears. I look for the source and there, just down the road from me, is a man. His hair is unkempt and greying, his hoodie is stained and worn, his jeans ripped. He holds a guitar in his hands; a dented and chipped guitar that looks like it cost ten bucks at a flea market. And, yet, from that beat-up guitar comes the most soothing and yet invigorating music. He sees me and smiles while playing.
Homeless guy: I didnt think you were coming back!
I smile weakly at him. He doesnt miss a beat on his guitar. Literally.
Suddenly, the most piercing noise drills into my eardrums. Before I can even figure out what its coming from, a beaten-up old Camero pulls up across from the busker. A man gets out of the car and looks around. Everything about him screams douchebag, with a shaved head under his tilted cap, and a hoodie from some third-rate college fraternity. He reaches into his car and grabs something.
Before I can even react, its all over.
Theres a gunshot. The sound of a man falling. The car driving away. And then a silence, as if none of it had just happened. But, Im certain it did happen. Theres a body to prove it
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Blade suddenly wakes up from the nightmare drenched in icy sweat. He sits up and checks his phone: 9AM. He wipes the moisture of his forehead and gets out of bed. He walks to the curtains and pulls them open. The brilliant Los Angeles sun blasts into the room, blinding him momentarily.
As his eyes adjust, he stares out at the hotel swimming pool, where several other wrestlers, including Saxton, Saboteur and Titus are hanging out and joking around. In the distance he sees Dodger Stadium, the stadium hosting Kingdom Come V.
Blade turns away from the window and opens the mini-bar, taking out his own personal bottle of whiskey. Its mostly full and ice-cold after a night in the fridge. He puts it down beside his bed and walks towards the front door.
Opening the door, he looks out into the hall. Its empty, except for a young man in a uniform that sports the hotel logo. Standing beside the elevator, minding his own business.
Blade: Hey!
The hotel employee looks over nervously.
Blade: Can you come over here for a minute?
Employee: Im not supposed to talk to the wrestlers, sir, orders from my manager.
Blade: Well your manager isn't around, and Im giving you permission to come and talk to me.
The employee look down the hall anxiously before quickly shuffling over to Blade.
Employee: What do you need, sir?
Blade: Just call me Blade. How old are you?
Employee: Twenty two.
Blade: Good. Youre my drinking buddy for today.
Employee: I cant drink on the job
Blade: If you dont drink with me, Ill make a complaint to your manager.
Blade walks back into his hotel room. The employee does a nervous, conflicted dance on the spot, before finally deciding to follow Blade into the room.
Inside, Blade takes out a large glass, filling it to near the top with his whiskey. As the employee enters, he notices Blades suitcase. Its full of items from the hotel; towels, light bulbs, toilet paper.
Employee: What are you doing with all that?
Blade: Im not stealing it for me. Im gonna throw it out to random homeless people later.
Employee: As you do
Blade: Yes, as I do.
Blade hands the glass to employee, who accepts it uncertainly, noticing just how full it is.
Blade: Whats your name?
Employee: Joe
Blade nods and sits on the ground, his back against the window. Joe sits down on the ground opposite him, his back against the rooms desk.
Blade: Do you enjoy your life?
Joe: I guess. This job is kinda crappy, and my manager is always on my back. But I love this city. Its where I was born and raised.
Blade: Yknow, last time I was in this city, I watched a man get killed. For months on end I tried to repress it. Seeing that had made me become a better person, that was my way of dealing with it I told myself. But I didnt deal with it properly. It kept creeping into my thoughts and my dreams. And now that Im back in L.A, I cant push it out of my mind. Yknow when you see something or you read something that touches you, and you tell yourself youre going to be a better person?
Joe: Uh, kinda, I guess
Blade: Usually, when that happens, a person will be passionate about their new cause for a week, maybe two, and then theyll get complacent and regress to the person they were before. When I decided to help those who couldnt help themselves, I couldnt become complacent because the reason I changed haunted me every day, everywhere I went. I can never change back because I can never escape why I changed in the first place.
Joe: Wow, thats
Heavy.
Blade chuckles at Joes lack of subtlety before taking a swig. He looks at the bottle in his hand.
Blade: I shouldnt be drinking. Im still a little hungover from Wednesday
Joe: What happened on Wednesday?
Blade: Grizzly Bob invited me over for dinner at his place to thank me for helping him out.
Joe: How was it?
Blade: It was cool, hes a good guy. We ended up just getting drunk and talking about the business. Although, I got drunk pretty quickly cause I didnt eat most of the dinner he made.
Joe: What did he make?
Blade: Cajun squirrel. I didnt want to offend him, so I
uh, redistributed it to someone less fortunate.
Joe: What do you mean?
Blade: I fed it to his dog under the table.
The two of them burst out laughing. Blade takes a deep swig from his bottle as Joe takes a cautious sip from his glass.
Blade: As long as Im sober by Saturday.
Joe: Thats when your match is on?
Blade: Yeah. Ive only been back for a few weeks, so I couldnt quite make it on to the main card. But Ive got something big to fight for
But my problem is my opponents. I knew Stone and Triple X were good, theyve proven as much. But since Ive grown up, I forgot just how vicious these younger guys are, just how vicious I used to be. Just as I was closing in on the win, Stone hits me with a low blow. She would rather lose by disqualification than watch someone else win. Maybe its not the most honourable route, but you have to admire her--
Joe: Balls?
Blade: Thats not funny, Im still sore.
Joe: Sorry
Blade: Triple X, meanwhile, is in some kind of lull
And that scares me
Joe: Like a calm before the storm.
Blade: Right. He cant seem to get things right at the moment, which is strange, and hes not getting pissed off about it as a result, which is even stranger. Ive been the young, hungry wrestler and Ive been the popular star who ran into difficult times in his career. And those are two types of people you dont want to wrestle. Theyre dangerous because theyre unpredictable.
Joe: So whats your strategy?
Blade: Most wrestlers in my position would try to use their experience and technical ability. Outwrestle and outsmart my opponents, because that strategy would work against any younger wrestlers, regardless of how determined and hungry they are. But in reality, Ive given up too much of who I used to be in becoming who I am today. The old me wanted to be the best at everything, not just intelligent, technical wrestling. The old me would give Izzy Stone a taste of her own, evil medicine. The old me wouldnt have let this city haunt him like its haunting me.
Blade takes another quick swig and pulls himself to his feet before looking out the window.
Blade: I face two up-and-coming talents who are so driven to make a name for themselves, who fight every match with reckless abandon. But people seem to forget that a couple of years ago, I embodied that kind of spirit better than anyone. So, for this week at least, thats who Im going to be.
He turns back around, a puts the bottle down on his bedside table with a hard thud.
Blade: I will be that old me, that version of Blade who stopped at nothing to be the best. And I will win at WrestleZone Weekend and make the very most of my prize. Because
Its destiny.
With a smirk, he takes out a cigarette and lights it up. Joe looks worried, aware that Blade technically isnt allowed smoke in this room, but he remains silent.
Blade: Joe, thank you for drinking with me, I appreciate it.
Joe: Uh, yeah, my pleasure.
Joe gets out of his seat and shares a firm handshake with Blade. Blade opens the hotel room door and Joe leaves. Suddenly, his manager comes striding down the hall.
Manager: Joe! Where the hell have you been!
Joe: I was just
Blade: He was sharing a drink with me.
Manager: Youre not supposed to bother the wrestlers, let alone be drinking on the job!
Blade: You should leave Joe alone. And I dont just mean right now, I mean as long as hes working here. You see, all I have to do is place one call and every WZCW wrestler leaves this hotel and we stay at a different one instead. And I would make it very clear to your superiors that it was your fault. Do you understand?
Both the manager and Joe are stunned, as Blade exhales some smoke, maintaining his strong calmness.
Manager: Yes, I
I understand.
Blade: Good. Now, if youll excuse me, Im going down to the swimming pool.
Without another word, the manager turns tail and leaves. Once hes out of earshot, Joe raises his arms in the air!
Joe: Yes! HELL YEAH! Thank you, so much!
Blade: No problem.
Blade closes his hotel room door and they begin to walk towards the elevator. Blade pushes the button to call the lift. Moments later, the elevator doors open before him and, after one more handshake, Blade walks into the elevator and hits the button for the ground floor. Before the doors close, a sudden realisation hits Joe.
Joe: Wait, do you really have the power to make your company switch hotels?
Blade smirks as the elevator doors begin to close.
Blade: No, but he doesnt need to know that.
The doors close, leaving Joe laughing to himself.
