Post by Tomas Luger on Feb 13, 2010 23:35:05 GMT -5
Tomas Luger pulls up to the OWL headquarters in Brighton Beach, New York. He exits his 1964 jet black Impala, and beeps the alarm. The Champion of the Masses takes a nervous, deep breath and makes his way up the stairs and opens the door to the main warehouse. For the first time in months, the lights are on and there’s a cleaning crew sweeping down the floors, dusting and oiling the equipment. Ring crews are changing out the ring ropes, checking the springs under the mat, and replacing the canvas as needed.
At the back, up the zigzagging staircase, there’s a light on in the office. Tomas hasn’t been in the office for months, and he hasn’t seen the man in the office for even longer. He strode across the room, and the men and women working all stopped and gave him a nod, a wave, or a friendly smile as he passed. Andrei liked to hire out fans of the sport, and these fine folks seemed to be no different. He returned the pleasantries, but couldn’t untie the knot in his stomach. He had no idea what he’d find on the other side of the door as he ascended the steps to his mentor, former boss, and best friend.
He stood outside the door, fist raised, prepared to knock, but shakes his head and just opens the door. Inside the small room Andrei is sitting behind the desk, feet propped up on the corner, smoking a cigar. Bishop Orion is slumped in a chair in the opposite corner from Luger, hands folded across his lap and a smile on his face, and Luger got the impression that a joke had just been cracked at his expense. Karishnikov brightened to see Luger enter and stood, as did Bishop. Luger just stood in the doorway, and if he’d had a knob sticking out of his ribs, you’d have mistaken him for a closed portal. Bishop just nods toward Andrei and moves toward Luger, who in turn steps aside. Tomas couldn’t take his eyes off of Andrei.
Bishop: I’ll let you two catch up. I’ll see you for dinner, Mr. Karishnikov.
Bishop glances Luger up and down as he passes.
Bishop: You look good, Mr. Luger.
Bishop closes the door on his way out, leaving the former tag team champions, standing together in the office, neither saying anything. Andrei puffs his cigar, but has a very mischievous, light look on his face. Luger looks a cross between disbelief and nausea. Andrei puts his cigar in the ashtray oh his desk and crosses the office and the two men share a hug.
Andrei: It’s good to see you, Tom.
Luger pulls back from the hug, and Andrei moves back behind the desk, motioning for Luger to have a seat. Tomas sits in the chair directly on the other side of the desk and tries to lean back and appear comfortable, but his fidgeting belies his true feelings.
Andrei: Look, Tom…uh…
TL: Don’t worry about that, man, it’s just good to see you again. I’d already written you off as dead.
Andrei: So did I, buddy, so did I.
TL: Bishop told me why you left, but I just have one question.
Andrei: I’ve got no more secrets, what would you like to know.
TL: Why the hell did you come back?
Andrei: I was done being gone.
Luger and Andrei fall silent as Tomas tries to wrap his head around the whole situation. Andrei continues to draw smoke off of his stogie, staring, with an amused smile, at Tomas Luger.
Andrei: So, you’re doing well for yourself, by the way.
TL: You think so? I dunno…
Andrei: You don’t?
TL: I could be doing better.
Andrei: We all could, Tom, it’s called being human.
TL: It’s just that, I see all these guys around me now, and I think about the time we spent in the TWF, and I…I dunno…I feel like I’m in quicksand, man.
Andrei: How so?
TL: Well, look at Krenshaw, for example. The guy hasn’t lost since he joined, he’s one of the Tag Champs, he’s got a guaranteed title shot at any time, but, oh yeah, he’s also the Heavyweight Champion. Then I think back to when he was in the TWF, and he was a Tag Champ, a Heavyweight Title holder, he’s always this instant success.
Andrei: And? What’s your point? You want his autograph, or something? I could probably get that for you-
TL: No, it’s just that I’m stuck in the mid card. I’m the never ending mid carder. I just don’t see it getting any better.
Andrei: Is that what this whole job search of yours is all about?
TL: Maybe, I dunno, I started as just a gimmick, but no I’m not so sure I’m not half serious when I’m out there looking for work. Maybe I should just retire and teach here.
Andrei: You know one of the main reasons I left, Tomas, why I stayed gone so long?
TL: Hmm?
Andrei: I wanted to see you become you. You were always associated with me, far to often. You needed space from me to discover your flaws, to determine your weaknesses, to try new things.
TL: Lot’s of good it did.
Andrei: Tom, you’re the head of a stable, and it’s not just Humphries, and Alexis, and Frank in it anymore. You’ve got credible talent like Justin York, you’re looking to add The Wizard of Ahhhs. I’ve got a line on someone else that may be a solid add in the near future-
TL: You’ve got a what? Who?
Andrei: Focus! You held the Tag Team Titles first. Sure, Krenshaw and Pandora hold them now, and they’re tough, but those belts will always be associated in some way with Ego’s and Icon’s, the first ever TWD Tag Team Champions. You’re one of the biggest draws in terms of attendance and merchandising. You are far from a failure, my friend.
TL: But, I don’t want to be the Dan Marino of the TWD. The guy who had all the peripherals, and never got the big one.
Andrei sighs, and sets his cigar down, leaning over the desk, like he’s got a big secret for Tomas, who in turn leans a little closer, ready to hear all the wisdom there is to hear.
Andrei: You’re facing Damian Morningstar this week, and do you know what I liked about Damian?
TL: There’s something likeable about Damian?
Andrei: Despite how you feel and treat most opponents, if you look hard enough, you can learn something from every one of them, every time you face them.
TL: So, what did you like about Damian?
Andrei: He fancies himself the Dark King.
Luger leans back and lets out an exasperated sigh.
TL: What the fuck does his nonsense have to do with anything? You like his fucking makeup, too? Want me to get you his autograph? Are we dissecting his gimmick, now? Is that what this little lesson is all about?
Andrei: No, Tomas, and this is why you’re the mid carder you are today, and not a champion like I was, or like your boyfriend Jamie Krenshaw is. You only peruse the surface of your foe, you don’t read between the lines.
TL: What’s there to read? Damian thinks he’s like Satan’s little bitch or something. He probably had a daddy that used to butt rape him with the Bible or something. What’s your point?
Andrei: Wrestling, like life, like so many things, can be better understood by playing and learning the art that is chess.
TL: Which I suck at, so this really isn’t that helpful, now is it?
Andrei: Tom, do you know the problem with being the king?
Tomas stops and thinks for only a moment, before he stops slouching and removes his hand from in front of his mouth.
TL: You have to beat the king to win.
Andrei: When you’re the king, everyone is focused on you, and your area of movement begins to close in about you. You start to have less places you can turn to, to run to. Eventually you fall, and the game is over for you. Damian, however, seems to be forgetting this. He assumes the king is the most powerful piece on the board, and it’s not.
TL: Well, he’s not gonna come out and say he’s the queen, although no one would fault him for it. He is a little on the flamey side.
Andrei: Damian fails to realize that it’s a team sport, wrestling and chess. In wrestling, there’s safety in numbers, in chess, you castle your king. In wrestling you feed off the fans, and the energy in the arena when you’re behind in a match. In chess, even a pawn has it’s role, and any piece can force a checkmate and win you the match.
The leader of The Rabble of Dangerous Miscreants sits in awed silence while Andrei Karishnikov leans back in his chair, puffing his cigar, he puts his feet back on the desk, and smiles.
TL: That’s good, Andrei. I never thought about it like that.
Tomas continues to grind the gears in his head when the phone rings. Andrei sets down the cigar and answers the ringing.
Andrei: Odessa Wrestling League, this is Andrei. Yeah, how are you? Yeah, yeah, two weeks. Of course, there’s a spot saved for you already. Glad to hear it. Yep, I’ll be here till about six thirty tonight. Sure, sure. Alright, see you then. Bye.
Andrei hangs up the phone and stares across the desk at Tomas Luger.
Andrei: Tom, it’s been great seeing you, and you should stop in again. But I have business to get to, and I think you do to.
Tomas snaps out of his meditation and looks across at The Eternal Flame. He grins and shakes his head and stands, as does Andrei. The two men shake hands.
Andrei: What the hell is this, a hand shake?
The two friends laugh and Andrei moves around the desk and they embrace in a hug. Luger moves toward the door as Andrei stands, hands on his hips.
TL: It’s good to have you back, Andrei.
Andrei: It’s good to be back. Good luck next week. Call me after the show.
Tomas nods and closes the door to the office behind him and heads out of the building, in much better spirits than he entered.
****
Ah, Damian Morningstar. I have to admit, I was worried about you this week. I know so very little about you, it’d be like wrestling Jesus or something. I’d just feel sort of weird, hoping he didn’t get mad thinking I was grabbing his ass in the ring. Worried he’d nail me to a cross or something. I’m still sort of concerned that you might pull one of those stunts, but I could care less. But, fret not, fare Damian, I’m not worried any longer. Nope. Because it occurred to me, as though overnight, or in a dream, or spelled out in my alphabet soup, like some sort of weird message from a higher power. The one reason I needn’t be concerned about you at all.
You fucking suck, bro.
Mmmm, saying that is like ripping one of those glorious farts after eating too many beans. I feel like a weight’s been lifted. Damian, let’s see if I can help you understand just how truly pathetic you are, you paramecium. Um, well, for starters, you’re biggest claim to fame, and I use the term “fame” loosely, was having Jahmon destroy Brent Kersh. Ok, for starters, you didn’t do shit, homie. You did about as much as one of the fat guys in the front row. The ones that swill beer, eat nachos and call you an asshole all show. Yeah, you were about as useful as one of them.
Just an aside, those fans are some of my favorite. Nachos, good. Beer, good. Calling Damian an asshole, good. What’s not to love?
But this sudden ownership of something you had very little to do with is preposterous, Damian. Then, there’s the small fact that Brent Kersh, while a living legend, isn’t the iconic name value he once was. No if you’d had your lackey put Jamie Krenshaw, or Jason Hartnell through a table off of the big screen plasma tron, then I might have at least some modicum of…well, not respect, because you still wouldn’t have done shit yourself, but at least I’d be like, “Damn, alright. Damian Fucking Morningstar means business”. Instead, I’m just, “Fuck Damian Morningstar”. I’m assuming this isn’t the desired effect you were going for, huh?
Then there’s this radical assumption that I’m going to try some cute, clevery to throw you off your guard. While I might try that, let’s focus on you some more, and the fact that every one of your promos is like a cut and paste seminar. Dude, we get it, you’re creepy, and you think your scary, and you’re into black, and your parents didn’t love you enough as a kid, and you jerk off with your blood and tears “cuz that’s how your roll, BITCH!” Got it. So now that all that’s out of the way, how bout you come up with some new material. You’re like the Andrew Dice Clay of the TWD, except he’s funny and you’re worthless.
So here’s the news flash, Damian. I know you’re not hard. I know you’re not tough. I know that you talk so much shit it smells like you deep throat dumpsters on the side. But at the end of the day, you’re just Damian Morningstar, the guy who hasn’t done anything in this federation so far, well, not really anything that you can personally say that you, yourself, actually did. You’re a sheep in dark clothing, and a fucking amateur, and if you keep coming direct at me with that tough guy bullshit, I won’t hesitate to fuck you up, buddy. You put on your big girl panties, and I’ll see you in the ring on Showdown.
At the back, up the zigzagging staircase, there’s a light on in the office. Tomas hasn’t been in the office for months, and he hasn’t seen the man in the office for even longer. He strode across the room, and the men and women working all stopped and gave him a nod, a wave, or a friendly smile as he passed. Andrei liked to hire out fans of the sport, and these fine folks seemed to be no different. He returned the pleasantries, but couldn’t untie the knot in his stomach. He had no idea what he’d find on the other side of the door as he ascended the steps to his mentor, former boss, and best friend.
He stood outside the door, fist raised, prepared to knock, but shakes his head and just opens the door. Inside the small room Andrei is sitting behind the desk, feet propped up on the corner, smoking a cigar. Bishop Orion is slumped in a chair in the opposite corner from Luger, hands folded across his lap and a smile on his face, and Luger got the impression that a joke had just been cracked at his expense. Karishnikov brightened to see Luger enter and stood, as did Bishop. Luger just stood in the doorway, and if he’d had a knob sticking out of his ribs, you’d have mistaken him for a closed portal. Bishop just nods toward Andrei and moves toward Luger, who in turn steps aside. Tomas couldn’t take his eyes off of Andrei.
Bishop: I’ll let you two catch up. I’ll see you for dinner, Mr. Karishnikov.
Bishop glances Luger up and down as he passes.
Bishop: You look good, Mr. Luger.
Bishop closes the door on his way out, leaving the former tag team champions, standing together in the office, neither saying anything. Andrei puffs his cigar, but has a very mischievous, light look on his face. Luger looks a cross between disbelief and nausea. Andrei puts his cigar in the ashtray oh his desk and crosses the office and the two men share a hug.
Andrei: It’s good to see you, Tom.
Luger pulls back from the hug, and Andrei moves back behind the desk, motioning for Luger to have a seat. Tomas sits in the chair directly on the other side of the desk and tries to lean back and appear comfortable, but his fidgeting belies his true feelings.
Andrei: Look, Tom…uh…
TL: Don’t worry about that, man, it’s just good to see you again. I’d already written you off as dead.
Andrei: So did I, buddy, so did I.
TL: Bishop told me why you left, but I just have one question.
Andrei: I’ve got no more secrets, what would you like to know.
TL: Why the hell did you come back?
Andrei: I was done being gone.
Luger and Andrei fall silent as Tomas tries to wrap his head around the whole situation. Andrei continues to draw smoke off of his stogie, staring, with an amused smile, at Tomas Luger.
Andrei: So, you’re doing well for yourself, by the way.
TL: You think so? I dunno…
Andrei: You don’t?
TL: I could be doing better.
Andrei: We all could, Tom, it’s called being human.
TL: It’s just that, I see all these guys around me now, and I think about the time we spent in the TWF, and I…I dunno…I feel like I’m in quicksand, man.
Andrei: How so?
TL: Well, look at Krenshaw, for example. The guy hasn’t lost since he joined, he’s one of the Tag Champs, he’s got a guaranteed title shot at any time, but, oh yeah, he’s also the Heavyweight Champion. Then I think back to when he was in the TWF, and he was a Tag Champ, a Heavyweight Title holder, he’s always this instant success.
Andrei: And? What’s your point? You want his autograph, or something? I could probably get that for you-
TL: No, it’s just that I’m stuck in the mid card. I’m the never ending mid carder. I just don’t see it getting any better.
Andrei: Is that what this whole job search of yours is all about?
TL: Maybe, I dunno, I started as just a gimmick, but no I’m not so sure I’m not half serious when I’m out there looking for work. Maybe I should just retire and teach here.
Andrei: You know one of the main reasons I left, Tomas, why I stayed gone so long?
TL: Hmm?
Andrei: I wanted to see you become you. You were always associated with me, far to often. You needed space from me to discover your flaws, to determine your weaknesses, to try new things.
TL: Lot’s of good it did.
Andrei: Tom, you’re the head of a stable, and it’s not just Humphries, and Alexis, and Frank in it anymore. You’ve got credible talent like Justin York, you’re looking to add The Wizard of Ahhhs. I’ve got a line on someone else that may be a solid add in the near future-
TL: You’ve got a what? Who?
Andrei: Focus! You held the Tag Team Titles first. Sure, Krenshaw and Pandora hold them now, and they’re tough, but those belts will always be associated in some way with Ego’s and Icon’s, the first ever TWD Tag Team Champions. You’re one of the biggest draws in terms of attendance and merchandising. You are far from a failure, my friend.
TL: But, I don’t want to be the Dan Marino of the TWD. The guy who had all the peripherals, and never got the big one.
Andrei sighs, and sets his cigar down, leaning over the desk, like he’s got a big secret for Tomas, who in turn leans a little closer, ready to hear all the wisdom there is to hear.
Andrei: You’re facing Damian Morningstar this week, and do you know what I liked about Damian?
TL: There’s something likeable about Damian?
Andrei: Despite how you feel and treat most opponents, if you look hard enough, you can learn something from every one of them, every time you face them.
TL: So, what did you like about Damian?
Andrei: He fancies himself the Dark King.
Luger leans back and lets out an exasperated sigh.
TL: What the fuck does his nonsense have to do with anything? You like his fucking makeup, too? Want me to get you his autograph? Are we dissecting his gimmick, now? Is that what this little lesson is all about?
Andrei: No, Tomas, and this is why you’re the mid carder you are today, and not a champion like I was, or like your boyfriend Jamie Krenshaw is. You only peruse the surface of your foe, you don’t read between the lines.
TL: What’s there to read? Damian thinks he’s like Satan’s little bitch or something. He probably had a daddy that used to butt rape him with the Bible or something. What’s your point?
Andrei: Wrestling, like life, like so many things, can be better understood by playing and learning the art that is chess.
TL: Which I suck at, so this really isn’t that helpful, now is it?
Andrei: Tom, do you know the problem with being the king?
Tomas stops and thinks for only a moment, before he stops slouching and removes his hand from in front of his mouth.
TL: You have to beat the king to win.
Andrei: When you’re the king, everyone is focused on you, and your area of movement begins to close in about you. You start to have less places you can turn to, to run to. Eventually you fall, and the game is over for you. Damian, however, seems to be forgetting this. He assumes the king is the most powerful piece on the board, and it’s not.
TL: Well, he’s not gonna come out and say he’s the queen, although no one would fault him for it. He is a little on the flamey side.
Andrei: Damian fails to realize that it’s a team sport, wrestling and chess. In wrestling, there’s safety in numbers, in chess, you castle your king. In wrestling you feed off the fans, and the energy in the arena when you’re behind in a match. In chess, even a pawn has it’s role, and any piece can force a checkmate and win you the match.
The leader of The Rabble of Dangerous Miscreants sits in awed silence while Andrei Karishnikov leans back in his chair, puffing his cigar, he puts his feet back on the desk, and smiles.
TL: That’s good, Andrei. I never thought about it like that.
Tomas continues to grind the gears in his head when the phone rings. Andrei sets down the cigar and answers the ringing.
Andrei: Odessa Wrestling League, this is Andrei. Yeah, how are you? Yeah, yeah, two weeks. Of course, there’s a spot saved for you already. Glad to hear it. Yep, I’ll be here till about six thirty tonight. Sure, sure. Alright, see you then. Bye.
Andrei hangs up the phone and stares across the desk at Tomas Luger.
Andrei: Tom, it’s been great seeing you, and you should stop in again. But I have business to get to, and I think you do to.
Tomas snaps out of his meditation and looks across at The Eternal Flame. He grins and shakes his head and stands, as does Andrei. The two men shake hands.
Andrei: What the hell is this, a hand shake?
The two friends laugh and Andrei moves around the desk and they embrace in a hug. Luger moves toward the door as Andrei stands, hands on his hips.
TL: It’s good to have you back, Andrei.
Andrei: It’s good to be back. Good luck next week. Call me after the show.
Tomas nods and closes the door to the office behind him and heads out of the building, in much better spirits than he entered.
****
Ah, Damian Morningstar. I have to admit, I was worried about you this week. I know so very little about you, it’d be like wrestling Jesus or something. I’d just feel sort of weird, hoping he didn’t get mad thinking I was grabbing his ass in the ring. Worried he’d nail me to a cross or something. I’m still sort of concerned that you might pull one of those stunts, but I could care less. But, fret not, fare Damian, I’m not worried any longer. Nope. Because it occurred to me, as though overnight, or in a dream, or spelled out in my alphabet soup, like some sort of weird message from a higher power. The one reason I needn’t be concerned about you at all.
You fucking suck, bro.
Mmmm, saying that is like ripping one of those glorious farts after eating too many beans. I feel like a weight’s been lifted. Damian, let’s see if I can help you understand just how truly pathetic you are, you paramecium. Um, well, for starters, you’re biggest claim to fame, and I use the term “fame” loosely, was having Jahmon destroy Brent Kersh. Ok, for starters, you didn’t do shit, homie. You did about as much as one of the fat guys in the front row. The ones that swill beer, eat nachos and call you an asshole all show. Yeah, you were about as useful as one of them.
Just an aside, those fans are some of my favorite. Nachos, good. Beer, good. Calling Damian an asshole, good. What’s not to love?
But this sudden ownership of something you had very little to do with is preposterous, Damian. Then, there’s the small fact that Brent Kersh, while a living legend, isn’t the iconic name value he once was. No if you’d had your lackey put Jamie Krenshaw, or Jason Hartnell through a table off of the big screen plasma tron, then I might have at least some modicum of…well, not respect, because you still wouldn’t have done shit yourself, but at least I’d be like, “Damn, alright. Damian Fucking Morningstar means business”. Instead, I’m just, “Fuck Damian Morningstar”. I’m assuming this isn’t the desired effect you were going for, huh?
Then there’s this radical assumption that I’m going to try some cute, clevery to throw you off your guard. While I might try that, let’s focus on you some more, and the fact that every one of your promos is like a cut and paste seminar. Dude, we get it, you’re creepy, and you think your scary, and you’re into black, and your parents didn’t love you enough as a kid, and you jerk off with your blood and tears “cuz that’s how your roll, BITCH!” Got it. So now that all that’s out of the way, how bout you come up with some new material. You’re like the Andrew Dice Clay of the TWD, except he’s funny and you’re worthless.
So here’s the news flash, Damian. I know you’re not hard. I know you’re not tough. I know that you talk so much shit it smells like you deep throat dumpsters on the side. But at the end of the day, you’re just Damian Morningstar, the guy who hasn’t done anything in this federation so far, well, not really anything that you can personally say that you, yourself, actually did. You’re a sheep in dark clothing, and a fucking amateur, and if you keep coming direct at me with that tough guy bullshit, I won’t hesitate to fuck you up, buddy. You put on your big girl panties, and I’ll see you in the ring on Showdown.