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I'm still here
Topic Started: Sep 12 2017, 09:59 AM (56 Views)
Pimpdizzle
The Berserker
"Ace Andrews is nothing but a punk. Beating Ata might be one thing. A rightful heir to the throne, but he hasn't faced anything quite like me."

Wuher's mug comes into the frame. A little more facial hair, and is that a gray one poking out of his chin? You're in HD these days folks, so you notice the weirdest things. His palms are down on the table he's leaning on and the cold blue eyes aren't so hazy as we last saw him in the X-Division Ladder match. He was happy to put over the new kid, but at the same time, he had a plan to win that match.

"See my return has been marred by defeats and ties. Moral victories, but still, no real true winning moment. I'm standing here today and people are STILL afraid to speak my name. And if they do? It is equivalent to garbage. As if I'm something you're supposed to hit it and quit it in 10 minutes or less. Otherwise, you just have this tinge of mediocrity about you."

Gunnar's pissed. His knuckles clenched white. He's hungry as fuck and ready for the rest of the world to hear about it.

"So here's my proposition. Mr. "Remember that time you stole my old theme?" Mr. "Lion-Light" Go win your match at Bloodletting. Make the people hate you some more. Be an asshole like we all want you to be. Here's where I pop in."

Gunnar's smirk fades from his face. He knows what he's about to do.

"Somebody put me in a match for a #1 Contendership for the title. It's time I pick my hill to die on and this is it."

His hands rise and fall again, slapping the table beneath him. The slap echoes and the light go out. Another camera angle begins filming as we see a change in demeanor. Gunnar's anger and passion have faded into a softer version of the Viking. He's tired, as he's just gotten back from Clash of the Titans. Jet lagged, sleep deprived you can see the normalcy of managing an establishment just re-emerges to the surface. Kegs that need to be ordered, two new hires that need to be trained, the third set of interviews coming up later in the day and then it's Taco Tuesday so we all know it's going to be busy. A woman wearing a Lucky's T-shirt and an apron wrapped around her waist approaches the Viking.

"GunGun? Can we talk?" The woman is 5'3" in height and a bit chunky from eating diner food all of her adult life. One of those kinds of waitresses you see that you know has been doing this for far too long to support her kids and husband.

"Sure Jen, what can I do for you?"

"It's about Clarence, he and I are having a hard time getting by and he's-"

"Is he hurting you or Shauna?"

"Well...not Shauna no. He'd never..."

"Jesus Jennifer, I told you months ago that I could help you out with that! Go get Shauna and your things. The cat too. The gym's sleeping quarters are open for you to stay in to get back on your feet. I don't want you around that motherfucker ever again. You hear me?"

"Thanks, sugar. I appreciate everything you do for us."

"You're working front end tonight right? Take the night off you'll still get paid."

The woman's arms wrap around Gunnar's waist as she clings to her savior. This is the stuff you don't see Gunnar do when he's all hellfire and brimstone. This is the stuff you miss out on when the cameras are shut off. The camera follows Gunnar's steps, behind Jen, out into the main bar area. The first floor is occupied by a couple of regulars and families getting their lunches. Everyone is kind of quiet, except the kids who are fascinated by the decorations. We go behind a bar and up the stairs. Gunnar closes the door behind him as we've entered the main office. Luckily the surprises are minimal in the room. A few pieces of mail are ripped open as the general quiet of the room is mildly disturbed. Nothing unexpected, just the bills that need to be sent over to the accountant and taken care of. The phone rings.

"Yellow, this is Gunnar."

We're not privileged enough to hear the other side of the conversation.

"Yeah man, I mean Weyerbacher has done great business for us. I'd love to have you guys in on a Sunday for football."

"Dude, are you kidding me? Did you really call your beer 'Dallas Sucks?'"

"Okay. I'll send you over to Liz. She should handle the rest. Best to your mom, I hope she pulls out of this."

He hangs up the phone. Then shakes the mouse. Furious clicking and what is unmistakable sounds of a raunchy porn being closed out leave us to wander in our imagination. The Patron Saint of Re-Arranging Your Face is human after all. Then his cell rings. It's PRW management. That much is obvious by the PRW logo flashing across the screen as his contact picture. He picks up the vibrating brick.

"Gunnar here."

"My promo's in the can will be sent off to you in the next couple of hours."
"No, I called out Ace. I told you, folks, what I wanted. I'm not back for some nostalgia pop, the reasons..."

"My god, is Bucks still running the show over here? This is not acceptable."

"Well, whenever you decide to get off your butts and give me what I'm looking for you know where to reach me."


The most unsatisfying thing in the whole world is the slamming of the end button of a call on a cell phone. Normally that'd be truncated by a slam of the receiver. Wuher looks directly into the camera.

"This is my life. If I get 5 unscheduled minutes of nothing, something is very wrong. Like children when they go quiet. This bar is missing my Undisputed Championship. This is truly the only reason I am back. I will not stop climbing until I'm holding that belt for a long ass time. I'm still here PRW, just as you've been here and unnoticed. Remember that come to Bloodletting."

The feed cuts to a commercial.

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