Thursday October 7, 2010
Terrence’s Charger
Streets of Indianapolis, Indiana
1:31 PM Local Time
“Almost home!” Terrence Thompson announced to his wife as he pulled into the Pike Creek subdivision.
Stretching lazily from the passenger’s seat, Wendy Briese looked out the window, stifling a yawn as the familiar surroundings of the neighborhood flashed by the car. “I had a great time this week, Terry.”
“As did I,” Terrence replied, stifling a yawn himself as his blood-red 1971 Dodge Charger rolled down the quiet residential avenue. “It was just like being on our honeymoon in Hawai’i again.”
“Only the volcano wasn’t erupting” Wendy replied with a grin, and Terrence chuckled. “It was nice to get away from it all for a week though, and celebrate our anniversary. We’ve been so busy, and we’re going to be again.”
Terrence nodded as he turned the car onto Wabash Circle. With Wendy’s grandmother’s arrival now just a week away, Wendy’s father’s parole hearing, not to mention the inevitable defenses of the two titles he held, they were going to be booked solid all the way until damned near Thanksgiving. At least they were now ready to tackle the future with a fully charged battery.
“Well, the house is still standing,” Wendy remarked as the Charger pulled into the Nest’s Driveway. Terrence threw the car into park and shut off the engine.
For several seconds, neither Bird moved, just sitting in the car, staring at the garage door. Finally, Terrence looked over at his wife. “Back to reality,” he said with a rueful smile.
Wendy nodded, and unbuckled her seat belt, climbing out of the car while Terrence did likewise. Stretching their muscles from having been cramped in the car for the past four hours, the duo slowly walked towards the front door of the house.
“We can unload the car later,” Terrence reasoned, and Wendy didn’t argue.
Stepping onto the porch, Terrence grabbed the handle, and the front door swung inward. “We’re ho-”
*WHAM!*
Terrence’s announcement was cut short by a gray blur running out of the living room, and ramming headfirst into the wall. Wendy bleated in shock, and both Birdz stared dumbfounded as Chaunticleer, Wendy’s cat, shook its head, dazed. Regaining some of its wits, Chant sprung away, sprinting back into the living room.
The Birdz exchanged bewildered glances. Terrence looked more confused, while there was a definite tinge of alarm about Wendy’s eyes. “What did he do to my cat?” she whispered.
Terrence shrugged, and shut the door behind his wife. Together, the two walked towards the living room, where they could hear their daughter laughing. They rounded the corner, and saw Pollaski and Theresa sitting on the couch. Pollaski had a laser pointer in his hand, which he was moving quickly around the room, while Chaunticleer chased the red dot with reckless abandon. Obviously, it had been this chase that had sent the cat careening into the wall merely seconds ago.
Theresa’s laughter turned into a scream of excitement as she saw her parents, and the four year old sprung from the couch, crying “Mommy! Daddy!” all the way across the room, nearly tripping over Chant as she did so. Upon reaching her father, Terrence lifted her up, and bounced her gently in his arms while Theresa wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly. “I missed you!’
“We missed you too, Theresa,” Terrence said, as his daughter released her hug. Terrence passed her off to Wendy, who hugged her close and kissed her on the cheek, while her daughter returned the embrace. “Did you have fun with Pollaski?”
“Yep!” was all the little girl replied, and smiling, Wendy set her down. She turned a reproachful gaze upon her manager.
“Did you just spend the entire week torturing my cat?”
“Of course not,” Pollaski replied dismissively, setting the laser pointer down on a nearby end table. “We played some games, did a few puzzles. Went down to the park a couple of times. It was a fun week. How was yours?”
“Amazing,” Wendy said, her stern expression softening. “We had a wonderful time out in the hills. With the leaves changing, its such a beautiful time down there.”
As she talked, Wendy walked over to the sofa, smoothing out her long black skirt before sitting down, while Theresa bounded up next to her. Terrence plopped into the recliner. “So, how was Adrenaline?”
“Eh, ended up not going. Figured it’d be just as good from home without you guys there, and save the three hour drive. Decent show.”
“Anything new?” Wendy asked as she tousled her daughter’s hair.
“Lot’s, actually. You’re facing the Belmonts in two weeks for the tag belts, although Val’s hurt.”
“Really?” Wendy asked, both suddenly surprised and concerned.
“Yeah, some idiot over in Phoneix Revolution cracked her over the head with some brass knuckles. She’ll probably be fine by your match, although she did lose to that new guy- Dominick Bent. Oh, and you’re facing Ojeda at Never Say Die.”
“Bah, figures,” Terrence said, rolling his eyes. “Idiot’s due for a shot, and I figure after whacking me over the head with a microphone, JPO figured it’d be the perfect setup.”
“Sounds like it,” Pollaski continued, with the air of a newscaster reading the evening report, hopping from one news story to the next. “So, for THIS week, Wendy’s got Jenna Himmler, and that’s going to determine which side gets to choose the match type for the showdown.”
Wendy nodded silently, although there was a mixture of excitement and apprehension in her eyes. “Jenna’s been training hard, I’m told.” she said, “It’ll be interesting to see how she’s improved.”
Terrence nodded, then shrugged. “Anything for me?”
“Yeah,” Pollaski replied. “You got Victor Jace, non-title. While you were gone, Vicky started dropping subtle hints about how he’s earned the right to face you. Y’know, now that he holds the number three belt in the promotion, or something.”
“Oh? I didn’t think subtletly was Jace’s strong point.” Terrence chuckled.
“Well, it wasn’t really subtle. It was more along the lines of ‘Please let me face Thompson! Please pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!’” Pollaski mimicked, clasping his hands in front of him in a plaintive gesture. “Anyways, JPO was impressed with his first round match against Antonio Lopez, so he gave you to him.”
“Fine by me,” Terrence said. “Anything has to be better than James Silkk, right?”
Both Pollaski and Terrence shuddered, remembering Terrence’s match from two weeks ago, when Terrence had trouble putting a patsy like Silkk away, in what was clearly his worst performance in several months. He couldn’t afford to have a bad one like that again.
Finally, Terrence stood up, out of his recliner. “Okay, time to unload the car,” he announced, as Pollaski and Wendy both grudgingly got to their feet as well. Stretching muscles that had gotten stiff from sitting around and talking so long, the three trudged outside the front door.
Back to reality.
===============================
Saturday October 9, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
5:10 PM Local Time
[It just absolutely sucks coming back from vacation, doesn’t it?]
[Sure, you’re glad to be home, but dear God, the unpacking, the laundry. The realization that somehow a cheeseburger you bought on the drive out got wedged under the passenger seat, and is now green and fluffy. Kinda like a zombie bunny, but worse-smelling.]
[Nonetheless, its been a couple days since the Birdz returned to the Nest, and they’re once again settled in. Good thing too, with the extremely difficult schedule they have coming up, not to mention the arrival of Wendy’s grandmother in less than a week. Needless to say, between training and cleaning, the Birdz have definitely been busy little bees since they got home.]
[Luckily, training’s been going well, primarily to the fact that Terrence and Wendy managed to get a few good... *cough* ‘sparring matches’ in during their vacation. As far as cleaning goes... well, that’s a story for another day.]
[So now we cut to the living room of the Nest, where Terrence Thompson is sitting on the couch, unwinding from a long days work and ready to cut his first promo in nearly two weeks. The Mechanical Mayhem looks fairly at ease, wearing a dark blue Indiana Pacers t-shirt, and a pair of jeans. He’s leaned back on the couch, one arm at his side, the other slung on top of the armrest. That soft smirk he always wears is present, although his demeanor almost suggests a mixture of amusement and irritation.]
“Where, oh where, do I begin?”
[Terrence chuckles helplessly, then shrugs. He holds up his right hand, the index finger extended]
“One week. One week I’m gone on a vacation, and I come back to find half the company wants my head on a platter. Both Ojeda and Jeremiah Belmont have announced their intentions to challenge for my Grand Prix Championship. The Belmont’s have been granted their long-awaited chance to reclaim the tag titles, and Pride & Honor and Global Revolution are gearing up to see who gets the next shot after that. And that’s just the people I know about.”
[A brief pause, before Terrence shrugs again]
“I almost feel like sticking one of those ‘take-a-number’ dispensers on our locker room door, just so I can kick everybody’s ass in a fair, orderly, fashion.”
[Cheesy grin]
“Regardless, it looks like I’m in for a hell of a month. Ojeda will challenge at Never Say Die, in a match that will ultimately be of my choosing. The Belmonts challenge next week, so we can put an end to seven months of their whining. Beyond that, how many people are lining up, hoping for a shot at Terrence Thompson, Wendy Briese, and their titles?”
[Terrence snorts, and smiles]
“But does anyone honestly believe that I’m going to cower behind my castle walls as the forces of my enemies amass outside my gates? Screw that! I’ll go forth each and every time, and repel them from my castle, and my treasures.”
[Terrence grins as he thrusts his arm forward, as if he’s driving an invisible sword through the belly of an imaginary opponent]
“Already the vangard has set forth against me, I heard that during my absence, Victor Jace demanded to face me in a match, and after his performance against Lopez in the quarterfinals of the Future Legends Cup, he was granted his wish.”
[Terrence holds his arms out at his sides, palms facing up, and cocks his head to the side. Its an inquisitive gesture, but one that certainly carries a challenge to it.]
“Well, Jace, you asked for the Twister, and you got him. Now what?”
[Terrence lets the question linger in the air for just a second, berfore returning to his normal relaxed pose.]
“You weren’t exactly a humble man to begin with, but ever since that Civil War, your head has inflated to the point where its almost a surprise that you don’t just float away. And going on the shit you keep starting backstage, I’m sure there’s quite a few people in this company who actually wouldn’t mind that happening.”
[Small shrug. Terrence isn’t exactly one of em, but he can definitely see where a few people would be less than pleased with the Jace man.]
“Me? I’d just be content to know what the hell you’re smoking. Just in case I’m ever overcome by the desire to turn myself into a delusional douchebag.”
[Small smile]
“See, Victor, there’s a LOT you need to learn about this business. You’ve been in a few good matches, and you even won a couple of them. You’ve gotten the Evolution Championship around your waist. Hell, my manager’s even gone so far as to rank you fourth in his power rankings, behind me, Jeremiah, and the recently departed Willett.”
[Terrence gives a quick nod of respect, although he doesn’t seem overly reverent about it]
“But you gotta put your success in perspective. You have every right to be proud of your Evolution Championship, but when you go around proclaiming your belt more prestigious than the Grand Prix title on the basis of... of what, actually? That there hasn’t been a repeat champion yet? Well, that makes you look like an idiot.”
[Terrence can do aught but chuckle helplessly, and shake his head in amazement.]
“You want to know why there hasn’t been a repeat Evolution Champion, Victor? Because its a stepping-stone title. That belt around your waist is designed for the up and comers, to give them a chance to show what they can do when the spotlight is on them. Hence the name- the people who earn that belt will one day further the Evolution of PWX.”
[Terrence reaches over, off screen, and picks something up off the couch, and holds it up for the camera. Predictably, it is the Grand Prix Championship, which Terrence displays proudly to the camera, before putting it in his lap.]
“Inside this company Jace, there is nothing higher than the prize I hold in my hand right now. You lose this belt, there’s no moving on to the next level. You want it back. Why do you think that both of the men who held this belt before me worked so damn hard to get it back? Why do you think Jeremiah Belmont gnashes his teeth every time he sees me walking around with- as he says- ‘his’ title?”
[Terrence pats the faceplate of the belt lovingly]
“Its because this is the goal of everyone in this company. But you really know that right? That’s why you wanted to face me so badly- because you’re not satisfied with what you have. You’re hungry, and you want more. That’s good.”
[Another nod of respect.]
“But for God’s sakes man, just be honest about it. All this bullshit, about how you’re guarding me from the rest of PWX, or how you have JPO in the palm of your hand. Or all the other nonsensical crap you uttered over the past couple of weeks- it makes nobody take you seriously.”
[Terrence rolls his eyes, as if he already can hear Jace’s obvious rebuttal]
“Yeah, I know. If I don’t take you seriously, I’ll overlook you and you’ll beat me. Not gonna happen. I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about the fans, and the other wrestlers, and even JPO. Because if the man in charge doesn’t take you seriously?”
[Terrence holds up the belt again]
“You sure as hell don’t get anywhere near this.”
[Terrence sets the belt back on his knees, grimacing slightly. He’s been sitting there a while, and twenty pounds of gold sitting on his legs are starting to make them fall asleep. That’s not a good feeling]
“And nobody believes you’re somehow JPO’s puppet master. If you were, you wouldn’t have thrown a two-week long bitch fit about having to wrestle the week after the Civil War, title match or no.”
[Terrence scratches his light brown hair and shrugs.]
“All that aside, you’re getting one hell of an opportunity here, Jace. My title may not be on the line, but you’re three seconds away from getting your name written on that very short list of credible challengers. Hell, who needs the Evolution title, or the Future Legends Cup, when you can just beat me one on one?”
[Terrence arches an eyebrow, and gives another half-smile]
“Still, its a good thing that you have those fallback plans in place. Because those three seconds are never going to come. All that you’re going to get out of Tuesday’s match is a very valuable lesson.”
[Terrence sits up a little straighter, leaning forward, his eyes staring into the camera.]
“You’re going to learn that there is a very big difference between what you have...
[Terrence holds up the Grand Prix Championship one last time, and unleashes that ever-trademark smirk.]
“... and what I have.”
[Fade]
