Vote Tally : Original - Ten Pounds of Gold: A Pro Wrestling Quest | Page 8 | Sufficient Velocity ##### NetTally 1.7.5
[x] You want to start off as a Babyface. Everyone wants to be a hero and you're no exception. You want to be the hero that the crowds can rally around. No. of Votes: 17
[X] You want to start off as a Heel. Fuck popularity, notoriety is where it's at. You want to be the villain that the hero always has to come up against. No. of Votes: 11
And so, for the next few weeks, you add a new part to your training. No longer are you just watching matches to see the moves and the psychology; you're also studying old interviews, promos, anything where a wrestler spoke and developed their personality.
Jack focuses mainly on the heels, and Allie seems to want to stick to watching the matches, but you find yourself gravitating towards the faces. Something about the way the good guys carry themselves appeals to you. The complete confidence in their persona, the way a crowd lives and dies with their every word… yeah. You've got to get yourself some of that.
You study them all. The big names from the eighties like 'Big Titan' and the Punishers. The scrappy underdogs from the nineties, like you old favorite the Sacrifice Kid and Shelby DuPont. Some underground work on smaller shows; SKYLINE has a whole bunch of over the top, campy stuff. Even promos and interviews in languages you don't speak. Angel of Mercy might not speak a lick of English, but the heart and emotion in his words rings loud and clear.
As you study and watch, your time at Horizon Academy passes quickly. Two weeks turns into three, and into four, and then five weeks have passed since you walked into the basement in suburban Baltimore. Your class hemorrhages trainees just like Daybreak promised. Where there were once sixteen, now there are only ten.
You seem to have crossed some kind of invisible threshold. Maybe Daybreak was just trying to run off the ones who would waste her time. But whatever the case is, once the first month has passed you're doing a whole lot less rope running and bumping and a whole lot more actual learning moves. Nothing too complex; Daybreak doesn't do the high-flying or slick chain wrestling. But when it comes to snap mares and arm-wringers, she knows no equal.
After a few days of move training you can see the method to Daybreak's madness. At the end of it all it always comes back to bumping. No matter what the move is, the guy taking it always lands in some kind of bump whether it's on their back, on their face, or on their side. If she'd started you on the moves without actually teaching you how to take this stuff then training would've ended damn quick.
There's another milestone you hit at the four week mark: you actually learn everyone's names. Not that you're antisocial, but… yeah, you've always been a bit antisocial. It takes a while for names to stick with you. But you've finally got them all down. Most of them seem like good people; Naomi still invites you to the bar with them every couple days even though you never accept, and Nick won't stop breaking out pictures of his kids at the drop of a hat. But you still spend most of your time with Jack and Allie.
The three of you get a reputation fairly quickly; one for being damn serious about this. Some of the others might just be doing this for fun or for boredom, but not you three. You're always the first to arrive, the last to leave, and even after you head back to the motel you usually wind up in each other's rooms studying tape.
Or rather, you usually end up in your room studying tape. It hasn't escaped your notice that Allie and Jack don't seem to interact much even when you're all talking. You usually have to twist the conversation to make them talk without your input and you always find yourself back in the center of things before too long. You're not sure why the two of them aren't clicking; they'd have a lot in common if they did. But there's no getting around the fact that you're their friend, and they've both labeled each other as 'my friend's friend'.
They do have their moments when they're on the same page though. One of those moments comes at the end of your fifth week. Daybreak's hinted that she's going to expect you all to start cutting promos in front of the class soon, and you want to get as much practice under your belt as you can with as few eyes on you as possible.
So after Friday's training, after everyone but your small circle is gone, you call both of your friends over to the monitors. "Hey," you say once they're both seated. "Do you guys mind giving me some feedback?"
Allie nods amicably, but Jack shakes his head. "Can it wait a little while? I was kinda hoping to get a few face bumps in."
Not surprising. Jack's been understandably- in your opinion at least- hesitant to fall flat on his face, so he wants some more training. But this should only take a few minutes and you say as much. "Just one promo?" you ask. "I need as much of a response as I can get and there's only so much I can do in front of a mirror."
You would know. You've been cutting promos on yourself in front of a mirror for as long as you've found reflective surfaces. You think you're not altogether terrible but without a live audience to react you're never sure.
Jack agrees after a bit more persuading and sits down next to Allie. You stand in front of them and clear your throat. Nothing to worry about here. You've done this dozens, hundreds, thousands of times with no one in front of you. Now there's only two people in front of you, and if they still hang out with you after the time you accidentally nailed Allie in the face as hard as you could, they're not going to laugh here.
You close your eyes, take a deep breath in, focusing and concentrating. Your muscles start to loosen, your stance relaxes, as you find what you're trying to say. Once you're ready, you open your eyes, focusing on an imaginary camera.
"Karl Smith," you say, voice hard. "I hear you've been talking a lot of trash about me. I hear you've been bragging to every single man, woman, and child on god's green earth about how you held me down for the one-two-three. And now that you've won, now that you've beaten me, I should just hang it up."
"Well no more! You might have proven yourself the better man that day, but only for three seconds. You got me down- but you didn't finish the job. And now I'm here to tell you," you say, jabbing a finger at the camera, "that since you didn't, I will."
"So come on, Smith! You think you're so bad? You think you've got my number? Then come on down to this ring and let's see if you can do it again!"
You trail off at the end, imagining a little red light blinking out. Finally, you look down at your audience and give a sheepish grin. "Not the best, I know. But what'dya think?"
Both of them are united for once. Sadly they seem to be united in not knowing what to say. Both of them blink quickly, tongue tied. Your heart rises a bit in your chest. Maybe you did a better job then you thought?
A peel of laughter from the stair crushes that ember of pride.
Footsteps stomp down the stairs, bringing the laughter down with it. By the time Daybreak's daughter gets to the bottom there are tears in her eyes and her face is bright red. She's gasping for air. "Since you *gasp* didn't," she repeats herself, voice deepened, "I will! That's good, that's good!"
The three of you stare at her, you nonplussed and your friends seeming… a bit relieved. Ok, yeah your promo needs more work. You watch the girl giggle hysterically. Finally she wipes the tears from her eyes and applauds. "Wow, Martin." She says, still chuckling. "I've seen some crap promos here, but that one takes the cake."
You're the one speechless this time. Thankfully Allie isn't. "And why were you eavesdropping?" she asks, annoyance warring with amusement in her voice. "I thought you weren't allowed down here."
You'd thought the same thing honestly. Daybreak's daughter- Delilah, you think you've heard her name is- has been a constant presence in the house but never in the basement. You saw her try and come in once, but Brad had thrown her out pretty quickly.
The young girl pouts at Allie. "Well, yeah, but I couldn't help it." She points an accusing finger at the three of you. "You're all so loud that I've gotta come see what's going on!"
Ooooh. Yeah, you guys haven't been exactly quiet with your training. You've just kept going full speed and full tilt even after normal hours. It's only good luck that's kept Daybreak from sticking to her word and throwing you all out.
Delilah grins as she sees the realization on all your faces. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Let's make a deal; I won't tell Mom that you've been disturbing the house during her evening nap, and you guys don't mention that I've been watching you all for weeks."
Wait, weeks? You hadn't-
"Good!" She proclaims, not even waiting for an answer. "I knew you'd see it my way! And now that you know I'm here, there's no real point in me hiding in the stairs anymore." Delilah walks over and hops into another chair next to Jack.
"You were working on your promos, right Martin?" You nod hesitantly. "Well, it's no good just working on em with no one to watch! You're gonna need a more active audience if you want to be any good. Get to it!"
Every bit of you wants to go to Daybreak and throw this girl out. But she's not wrong; it'd probably mean the end of your evening training sessions. You grit your teeth and get back to work.
"Let me tell you something-"
"Boooo!" Delilah screams out. "You stink! Bring out Daybreak!"
Oh god she's a heckler.
You meet Allie's eyes, pleading desperately. She gives you a guilty smile and shrug and picks up the laptop, ready to get back to her tapes. Jack just shakes his head. "At least you've got an audience." he mumbles as he heads back to the ring. Traitors, both of them!"
"Are you gonna say something or just stand there like a moron?!"
...you're gonna murder this kid.
You try again, and she keeps heckling you. Again and again. She seems to be focusing her heckling on your words, the actual content of your promo. That's the least important part in your opinion; you can always write new words. Maybe you should focus on something else to make her shut up, or at least change it up a bit?
What part of the promo do you focus on?
[] Focus on the actual presentation of your promo. The way you're saying the words, the way you're presenting the whole thing. (Effect: +1 training roll to Microphone)
[] Focus on your body language. You've heard some promos that absolutely suck, but because of the way the wrestler was reacting to his own words, he pulled it off. (Effect: +1 training roll to Acting)
[] Fuck focus. You're going to bull ahead with your own natural charm and make Delilah eat her words! (Effect: +1 training roll to Charisma)
Vote Tally : Original - Ten Pounds of Gold: A Pro Wrestling Quest | Page 9 | Sufficient Velocity ##### NetTally 1.7.5
[X] Fuck focus. You're going to bull ahead with your own natural charm and make Delilah eat her words! (Effect: +1 training roll to Charisma) No. of Votes: 9
[X] Focus on your body language. You've heard some promos that absolutely suck, but because of the way the wrestler was reacting to his own words, he pulled it off. (Effect: +1 training roll to Acting) No. of Votes: 8
Fuck trying to focus on any one thing. What this promo needs is for you to let out some personality. Let some of your natural charm flow free. You can't let yourself get worked up over any one thing, you need to just let it flow naturally.
So you square your shoulders, meet Delilah's tiny gaze and start again. It's not perfect by any means, but it's better. Much better.
Despite all that, Delilah doesn't seem all that impressed. She still sits in front of you and heckles you. She starts throwing popcorn- where the fuck did she even get that from?!- and she still yells every single derogatory thing a wrestling fan can yell at a wrestler. Including some you've never even thought of before, and you thought you'd heard all of the chants.
But at least she's stopped laughing.
The next few days are more of the same. Morning training, lunch, afternoon training, a break while you wave the rest of the students out and then some more training. Your little trio is clearly starting to pull ahead of the others. You were scared when it first became visible that you'd have to deal with some anger, some jealousy. It's what happened whenever you outperformed anyone in anything before.
But not this time. Instead all you hear are rueful chuckles and mutters about how other people need to step it up. The biggest congratulations come from Caleb, a scarred former factory worker. You'd have thought he'd have the biggest problem. But he just claps you on the shoulder the first time you perform a picture perfect face bump into a handstand.
"I'm telling ya bro." He says to you during the break. "You're gonna go somewhere with this!"
You hold back a blush at the praise. Say what you want about Delilah, she's at least good at making you control your involuntary reactions. "Thanks man. You're not half bad yourself."
Caleb's just puffs out and he nods. "Yeah, yeah! I'm not getting this as fast as you guys are, but I'm still putting it all together. I bet a year, two tops, we're all rolling in scratch!"
From what you know, that's pretty unlikely. Only the greatest natural talents rise to the top that quickly and you've no illusions that you are one of those natural talents. But that probably wouldn't go over too well with Caleb. You just nod and take another drink.
He doesn't take the hint and move on though. Instead he scratches his thin beard thoughtfully. "Say bro. What're your plans after graduation?"
Hm. You've thought about it a bit, but you're not sure. You know you could probably head back home and stay with your parents until your career takes off. That would sting though, no matter how much they were willing. And you know there would be all kinds of silent pressure to get a normal job and move on with being a 'productive member of society'. Bleh.
Another part of your brain wants nothing more than to sink some cash into a decent car and just drive around looking for work. But that's not going to happen- you wouldn't last too long before being picked up for vagrancy. Maybe you could stay in Baltimore? It's not like there's a shortage of shows around here. You could probably find some basic job and wrestle on the weekends to train up.
Caleb's still waiting for an answer. You shrug. "Not really sure yet. Still have over half the class to go after all."
A slow smile grows on his face. "I've got an idea that you might want to think about though. If you wanted to, we could figure something out. I'm local and got a place. If we sold ourselves as a pair we'd probably get more work and-"
Almost before the words are out of his mouth, you feel pressure on your shoulders and leg. You blink quickly. Somehow, without even letting you know they were there, Jack has appeared next to you, sitting on the ring apron with his arm over your shoulder, and Allie's leaning on your leg. "Umm… hi guys?" you half greet, half ask.
"Ah." Jack replies. "Our mistake. Sorry to interrupt." But they show no signs of leaving. Instead they start talking about football. Odd. They both hate it. Finally, Caleb grunts something that sounds vaguely like a goodbye and heads back. Jack and Allie watch him go, for once on the same page. Both of them wear identical plastic smiles that vanish as soon as Caleb is far enough away.
"Alright guys. The fuck?" you ask.
Jack scowls. "Later." Allie nods in agreement.
Later comes after training is done for the day but before Delilah comes down for what's become her usual ritual of heckling you. Everyone files out with a wave, leaving just you and your two friends. The moment the door closes you turn to face them. Jack's glaring at the door and Allie is sighing and rubbing her temples.
"Alright. It's later. The fuck?"
"Caleb." Jack replies, spitting at a bucket. "Fucking Caleb is the fuck."
You try and digest that. Allie chimes in. "Sorry, T. We didn't want to interrupt but we figured we'd get in there before he finished his pitch."
You lean back against the ring. "Explain please."
"Caleb's a user." Allie replies without any preamble. At the look on your face, she elaborates. "Not like that. If he was on any kind of drugs, Daybreak'd know and would kick him out so fast he'd leave cracks in the pavement. No, he uses people. And I figured he'd try for one of us sooner or later."
You shake your head. "Use people? I think he was building up to pitch us as a tag team, not… not whatever it is you guys are thinking about."
"Tommy." Jack replies, voice surprisingly solemn. "We're friends, right?"
There's only one real answer you have for that. You don't think you've made friends with two people this quickly before in your life. "Yeah."
"Then listen to Allie. She makes a lot of sense here."
You turn your attention squarely on your punk friend. She pauses, as if trying to put her thoughts in order. "Alright. I could be wrong. And the situation could be completely wrong. But Caleb reminds me a lot of one of my old friend's boyfriends. He came into her life, made her completely dependant on him, and then ruined her when he was bored."
"Allie." You answer with all the patience you can. "I'm not-"
"And no one's saying you are! And if you were, there'd be no problems at all!" She hurriedly explains, waving her hands in front of her. "But don't you think the same can still be done if there wasn't any dating all?"
"Picture it. Caleb's local. He's got a house or an apartment or something that he lets you stay in rent free. So you take him up on it. He says stay however long you like. You guys can share bookings, you don't have to pay rent, just do a bit of cleaning and everything will be alright. He's doing you a huge favor, right?"
You nod slowly, thinking it through. Allie goes on, "So he can ask you for some favors too. Some really basic ones at first. You guys share bookings, and he asks you to do the job. You do it, because you owe him one. Then you figure out a good move in practice. He takes it and uses it first, but you don't mind. You owe him one. Then a promoter wants to book a match but can only afford one guy. He asks if you mind working for free. You don't mind, it's not like you pay him any rent. And while you're there, you do the job."
"Next thing you know, his career is taking off at the expense of your hard work. You don't have any money saved up because you spent it all looking for bookings. And then he's gone, you're out the apartment, and you've got shit."
She smiles at you, and her eyes are wide. You're guessing there's more to this story with her friend and her friend's ex then you're hearing. "Maybe it wasn't anything like that. And if it was, you probably wouldn't have fallen for it; you've got a brain even if you can't figure out a basic kip-up. But…"
Jack chimes back in. "We know you can look out for yourself. But you shouldn't have to. And when we saw him starting to make his move, we thought we'd head it off at the pass. Sorry if we overstepped any boundaries."
You sit for a moment and take all that in. Not really much you can really say to all that. You reach out and pull them both into a hug. The you from before training might not have done that; you've always been a bit self-conscious. But any awkwardness around the human body is getting beaten out of you quick, and if there was ever an opportunity for a group hug, this is it.
You've got good friends. It's been a while, but it feels nice.
The sound of the door opening jerks you out of the moment. Delilah stomps downstairs just in time to see you all jerk apart. A wide smile grows on her face. "Was I just interrupting something?" She asks in a sing-song tone.
You open your mouth to protest- but no. You've got a better idea. You look the eight year old square in the eye and nod. "Yes. Yes you were. You monster."
Now she just looks confused. "Wait. I was? What was I interrupting? Was it fun?"
Just like you thought. Despite all the abuse she heaps on you, she's still a kid. Where did she even learn to ask about 'interrupting something'? You bet it was TV. Did they do that gag on Spongebob? That feels like a gag they'd do on Spongebob.
Your extra training that day passes quickly, as does the day after that. Promo class starts, and thankfully your extra 'training' pays off, especially when Daybreak encourages everyone to start the heckling. You finally get an idea of where Delilah got her insult choices.
It's at the end of the sixth week of training, the actual halfway point, that something else happens to mess with your usual routine.
It starts off like every other day, and goes on like all the other days. You do some extra ring work with Allie, go through a real basic match with Jack, and dissect another SKYLINE match with both of them. You're not sure why Allie keeps picking out the comedy matches but you're not going to question it.
Delilah joins you a bit later and she even helps you dissect your match of choice. She's got a surprising amount of insight for someone so young. It probably comes from literally growing up so close to the business. But after you finish watching it's time for her favorite part.
Jack's volunteered to get heckled today. He stands up front, chin to his chest to let his long hair drape down and cover his eyes. "Denizens," he starts, voice low and haunting. "For a neigh-endless-"
The door banging open slams him out of his trance. You all trade confused looks; you know you weren't talking that loud this time, and Daybreak swears she'll never come down here unless it sounds like someone's dying. But it's definitely your teacher storming down the stairs. She looks around the room with a hawk-like glare, finally settling on her daughter.
Daybreak points at her kid and then at the spot in front of her. The little girl look around wildly at each of you, as if pleading for you to intervene. But like hell you're getting involved in whatever this is. Her face falls as she gets the message, but she gets up and obediently slinks to where her Mother is pointing.
"You know my rules." Daybreak says, voice low and cold.
Delilah nods miserably. "I know Mom. And I'm sorry. But-"
"No excuses." Daybreak never raises her voice, and just seems to make her words hit Delilah harder. Your teacher shakes her head. "I told you my basic rules, and you deliberately disobeyed them. I'm not angry. But I am very, very disappointed in you, Delilah Jean McCarthy."
Oww. You straighten your spine instinctively at someone getting triple-named. Beside you, Allie and Jack have the same reaction. But it's nothing compared to how Delilah looks. It's like she's been shot. Daybreak glances at you all and then back to her daughter. "Go to your room and think about what you've done. No TV, no games, no computer."
With one last glance at you three, Delilah walks up the stairs, her every step a prisoner's march.
Once the kid is gone, Daybreak looks back at you all again. She gives you all a short nod. "Martin. Grey. Silva. Keep up the good work. Sorry you had to see that." And she turns to go.
The words are out of you before you can stop yourself. "What was that all about?"
Jack mouths the word 'no', but you've already spoken. Daybreak freezes in her tracks. "I'm sorry if I'm overstepping my boundaries here, but I've got to ask. Why isn't she allowed down here? She never gets in the ring, and she stays away from anything that could hurt her. And she's smart; she probably knows more about the way a match works then half the class. And it's clear she loves the business. Anyone's who's ever heard her talk about it for more than five seconds could tell you that."
"So I'm sorry if I'm prying. And you can tell me to fuck off and I won't ask about it again. But what's the big deal about her being down here?"
Daybreak might as well be a statue for all the reaction you get from her. She doesn't move an inch. Allie prods you in the side desperately. You glance over at her and she whispers "Apologize" so loud you're sure your teacher hears it. You can see her point; you're curious, but if she's going to take it badly, you don't want to risk being thrown out.
But before you can take Allie's advice, Daybreak speaks. "She shouldn't be a wrestler."
You are all struck silent as your teacher turns to you. You're struck mute by the look in Daybreak's eyes. You've seen her pissed, you've seen her full of spit and hate, you've even seen her friendlier side on some rare occasions. But you've never seen her so tired before.
"She just shouldn't be a wrestler." Daybreak repeats herself. "She loves it though. Loves it to her core. And that's my fault; I should've been here more when she was a baby instead of asking my sister to watch her. But there was always one more show, one more payday I could get to make our life easier. Maybe if I'd been here she wouldn't have heard so many stories about how great wrestling is."
Daybreak shakes her head. "No one should want to be a wrestler."
The room is deathly silent. The electric hum of the lights is suddenly an all-consuming noise, droning loudly over even your heartbeat. "It's a cruel, harsh business. You wake up one day in one city and go to sleep in another. You sacrifice friends, families, birthdays, weddings, all to make it 'big'. The only connections you make are with people just as fucked up as you are, and if you're lucky they'll share their pain pills."
"One day you'll be on top of the world. The next, you'll wake up cold, alone, and with every bone in your body aching until it's a struggle to stand up in the morning. I got lucky enough to get out before I needed a cane. I've got friends that couldn't quit; they loved it too much. Most of them are in wheelchairs."
She sighs. "If I could burn down every wrestling promotion in the world, I would. But I can't. All I can do is make it a bit safer, a bit of a better place. The best I can do is give numbskulls like you morons a safe place to learn without some jackoff ripping your tendons to prove a point about how 'tough' this thing is. Teach you the best I can, hope you all learn, and hope that you can one day teach brats of your own. Make the business better one student at a time."
"But her?" Daybreak says, gesturing at the door. "Her I can control. Her I can make it so that she never wants to go down my road. By god, she's going to be better than I am. She might not make as much money, but I will fight everyday so that she can wake up thirty years from now and have all the feeling in her toes. So that she doesn't have to wonder what city she's in. So that she can work a boring day job and come home to a loving family!"
"And if that means she hates me for a couple months because I won't let her come into the basement? Then so be it."
With her last word spoken, Daybreak turns and marches back up the stairs. She never looks back.
After that, you don't really feel like training all that much. You trade glances with your friends. The feeling is more than mutual. You walk out of the basement for the day and leave Daybreak's house as quietly as you can. Only Delilah's muffled sobs coming from her second-floor room bid you farewell.
It's the first time you've been outside in the sun at night for a long time, but none of you feel like celebrating. You just walk silently back to the motel. None of you speak or even make eye contact with anyone else, so trapped in your thoughts are you. You don't even look up from the ground in front of you.
Thankfully, you're all on the same page. You make one stop before you reach the motel; a liquor store that Jack found the other day. He walks out with a bottle of vodka the size of your forearm. Perfect.
And that's how the three of you wind up in your motel room trading a bottle of vodka. You don't bother with glasses; you've sweat on each other enough by now not to worry about things like germs. You're halfway through your second pull when something occurs to you. You glance over at Allie. "You're old enough for this right?"
Your friend glares at you. "What's that supposed to mean?!" she demands, her voice pitched in just the right way to let you know you're walking on thin ice.
You knew it. "You're not legal yet, are you?"
She looks like she's going to jump you for a moment. You just raise an eyebrow and finish your pull. Finally she deflates and chuckles. "Only for like another three months. It's a bullshit, arbitrary age anyway. Can fight when you're eighteen, but can't drink until you're twenty one? What kinda sense does that even make?"
"It's very important!" You protest, feeling a bit of energy return to you. "After all, you might not be 'mature' enough to handle it until your twenty first birthday. We should probably just-"
"Gimme that." she snarls, and pulls the bottle from your hand. With you and Jack watching, she takes the longest pull from the bottle of any of you, capping it off with a loud belch. "Mature THAT!" she bellows.
You can't help it. You burst out laughing, joined seconds later by Jack and Allie. All the tension you've felt inside of you since Daybreak's impromptu lecture leaves you as you cackle so hard that you start to cry. Allie's laughing just as hard as you are, and she throws herself onto your floor, writhing and giggling. Jack's not far behind her, beating the ground with his fists as he cackles. You shrug. Seems the thing to do.
You're all on your floor, looking up at your ceiling. It's quite a sight. You've never really stared at it before; usually you're too tired or busy to do anything but work or fall asleep, but your ceiling is definitely interesting. You see shapes in it that you've never seen before; stains from prior guests. A scribble up top proclaiming 'Hail Caesar' for some reason. One of the cracks in it looks just like an alligator and you think you see a branch and-
Ok, the vodka's hitting you harder than you thought. You glance over at the bottle, still being cradled by Allie. Fuck it. Tomorrow's sunday. "Gimme." you demand, and take another pull.
The three of you lay there in silence. Jack's laying on one leg and you're using Allie as an armrest, but you've never been more comfortable. You could probably sleep like this. But with your lips loosened, words want to come out.
"You think she's right?"
Jack groans. "I was having such a good time…"
"Shut it, prep!" Allie barks playfully. "We're thinking deep thoughts here!" She turns back to you. "Probably. She definitely wasn't lying about shit she's been through."
"Do you… do you think it's like that for all wrestlers?" you ask.
Jack shakes his head violently. Too violently. He shakes it for a good solid minute, giggling as his hair starts hitting his own face. Finally when he's done, he lies back against the carpet and groans. But he answers. "Nah. They're not all like that. I've met some older wrestlers before and they get along fine. Everyone's got their gripes but most seem to be thankful for their time doing it."
Your next question is interrupted. "You wanna get all philosophical, fine. Answer me this, T. Every wrestler was like Daybreak. They wanted to keep their kids away from it and hate the sport. No good stories about it. You'd still want to do it, wouldn't you?"
Allie's voice is vulnerable. But you barely notice. Would you? Knowing everything you know, would you still do this even if everyone was against you doing it? You've only been training for about six weeks and you still ache. Your back hurts from the canvas and the ropes. You mistimed a bump earlier and only missed a concussion because of your headgear. You've barely spoken to your parents and you still feel the pressure to come on home and forget this. You don't remember the last time you spoke with one of your friends from college or high school.
But no. Even with all that in mind, there's no place you'd rather be then here. "Twice." you reply. "Now ask me again in ten years."
For some reason that's hilarious to all of you. You giggle like idiots as you pass the bottle around again. The floor is getting entirely too comfortable. However Jack wants to chat now.
"What do you think we'd be doing if it wasn't this?" He slurs. He's had the least of any of you, and he's the heaviest, but he seems the most affected. Maybe he's got the least experience handling his liquor. "I mean, say wrestling didn't exist. What would we even be doing?"
Allie snorts out a giggle. "How the fuck should I know, ya jackass? I'm not like you fucks; I didn't get into this because of some deep 'love of the business'. I got into it because there was nothing else I could use my badass skills at better! I mean sure, now I get the whole 'wrestling be awesome' thing, but if it didn't exist, I'd still be trying to figure out what to do with my life!"
"Maybe a cheerleader?" Jack guesses. "You'd be good at that. Or a teacher? You could do gym."
"Fuck that. They'd make me grow my hair back."
You cackle at that. "And make you wear sleeves!"
"Those bastards!"
By the time your hysterics vanish this time, the bottle's gone around again and it's starting to run dry. You all are going to pay for this tomorrow.
"I know right where I'd be." Jack carries on as if nothing interrupted him. "Back in school again. Mom always wanted me to be a doctor, and I guess I'd just go along with it. Go to dental college. Scrub some teeth. Make dentures or some shit."
"There's a dental college?!" You have to ask.
"I don't know!" He says, throwing his hands up in the air. "But there's gotta be! Where else would dentists learn to… I don't know, 'dent'?"
You're very sad to learn that the bottle's empty. You glance over at the clock. Shit. How've six hours passed already? How does time even work? Who determines what time even is?
Your deep thoughts will have to wait for another day, because Allie breaks into them again. "So. You're up." she says, poking you in the chest while giggling. "We've shown you ours. What's yours?"
What would you be if you weren't trying to be a wrestler?
[] Probably a bartender. You've always liked listening to people's problems and you like working nights. It's a perfect fit. (+1 Charisma Roll)
[] Probably an Actor. It's a lot like a wrestler, only without getting punched in the face. You really enjoyed those classes you took in college too. Yeah, you could probably see yourself doing that. (+1 Acting Roll)
[] Probably a Gym Teacher. You may not have been much of an athlete, but fuck it, neither were most of your gym teachers. You can blow a whistle, you like being outside, you like making people jump through hoops. Why not?! (+1 Safety Roll)
[] Probably a Writer. You like to make up stories, write about characters doing shit you've never done and seeing what happens. You always aced your English classes without trying too. How hard could being a writer be? (+1 Psychology Roll)
[] Probably a…. No, no. You can't do it. You've never pictured yourself doing anything besides what you're doing right now. You were always going to be a wrestler. (+1 Random Roll)
-------------- Relationships Changed! Jack Silvia: Acquaintance -> Friend Allison Grey: Acquaintance -> Friend Delilah McCarthy: Neutral -> Acquaintance Caleb Graham: Neutral -> Annoyance
Rolls Gained! +1 Charisma Roll: 53
Vote Tally : Original - Ten Pounds of Gold: A Pro Wrestling Quest | Page 10 | Sufficient Velocity ##### NetTally 1.7.5
[X] Probably a Writer. You like to make up stories, write about characters doing shit you've never done and seeing what happens. You always aced your English classes without trying too. How hard could being a writer be? (+1 Psychology Roll) No. of Votes: 15
[X] Probably a bartender. You've always liked listening to people's problems and you like working nights. It's a perfect fit.(+1 Charisma Roll) No. of Votes: 13
[X] Probably a Gym Teacher. You may not have been much of an athlete, but fuck it, neither were most of your gym teachers. You can blow a whistle, you like being outside, you like making people jump through oops. Why not?! (+1 Safety Roll) No. of Votes: 2
Thanks to pouring literal gallons of water down your throat, going for a quick jog in the evening, and some kind of disgusting mixture made from god knows what that Allie swears by, you manage to get to Monday training at your usual time with nothing more than a slight hitch in your step and a dull pressure at your temples. A damn good thing as it turns out- Daybreak has a new exercise she wants to put you through.
Three hours in, you're longing for the sweet familiarity of running the ropes. At least there you can run at your own pace. Instead you find yourself outside the ring, running at the slow, plodding jog that Daybreak demands. If you speed up to your natural pace, you'll crash into Angelina who's running in front of you. Slow to a walk and you'll be hit by Caleb, who's right behind you.
If that was all there was to the exercise, slowly running around the ring while maintaining a healthy distance from your classmates, you doubt it would've been too hard. Annoying, but not too hard. But you can't leave your focus on that alone. You've also got to keep one eye on the ring, where even now you can see Allie trading holds with Chloe. The hard-faced redhead is cranking on a basic arm wringer and your friend looks like she's in utter agony instead of the mild discomfort you know she's actually feeling.
By your own internal countdown, they've in there for about five minutes. That means…
Daybreak's whistle breaks through your eardrums and drills into your brain. "Grey!" She bellows. "Out! Leaver! In!"
Chloe releases the hold and Allie sprints to the side of the ring. She slides out right as Nick is sliding in and seamlessly tucks herself into his old spot, hitting the necessary stride in seconds.
"Leaver! Get the heat!" Daybreak demands. Nick rushes to oblige. The older man slaps on a side-headlock and cranks it for all he's worth. Chloe groans in supposed pain, and Nick drags her down the mat, pressing her belly to the hard canvas as he transitions into a chinlock.
You've been through an entire morning of Daybreak's 'HA-larious Gauntlet' as she proudly called it this morning. It's supposed to teach rapid changes in focus and momentum all the while working on your cardio and your awareness of your fellow workers. "It also'll teach you to work with someone you're not best buddies with." She threw in with a sneer. "Just on the off chance you ever work someone who isn' your BFF. It'll never happen, I know. But just in case."
She might be more sarcastic than usual, but Daybreak's not wrong. You hadn't even noticed it until she pointed it out but the class has definitely divided into it's own little group. Sheldon quit on Sunday, which leaves just nine. Caleb and Leah are always together, something that makes you worry for the younger girl. Naomi, Angelina, Nick, and Chloe usually work together in some combination. And before today, you can't remember the last time you were in the ring with someone that wasn't Jack or Allie.
Once you noticed the cliques, you weren't surprised Daybreak came up with something like this. Familiarity can bring about amazing things between two wrestlers, but no one can afford to just be familiar with one or two workers. Already you've noticed some habits you've had to correct. The first time you were in the ring with Angelina, you kept looking for tells that weren't there and missing the cues that were.
"Lucas! Out! Martin! In!"
You're rolling into the ring before the last word is fully out of Daybreak's mouth. Chloe hops over you and takes up your old spot. You rise to your feet and wait for Daybreak's command. It's not long in coming.
"Lock up!"
You and Nick charge ahead and meet in the center of the ring in a basic collar and elbow tie up. But not good enough. You can hear the groan of disgust coming from the director's chair Daybreak set up for herself. "I said lock up, not hug! Do it again!" Your next attempt doesn't go any better, and your third is even worse. Finally she just orders you to keep locking up until it stops sucking.
You lose count of how many times you try to lock up to Daybreak's satisfaction in five minutes, but her whistle goes off before you manage it. "Leaver! Out! Wolfe! In!" The older man pats you on the shoulder and takes off, his place being filled by Leah. The dark-haired girl has a look of determination on her pointed features as she stares you down.
"Trade armdrags!" Daybreak bellows.
You sprint towards Leah. She's taken aback but still moves just in time, ducking and pivoting, her arm shooting between your and your body. You flip forward, bumping flat on your back. You get to your feet just in time to catch her for your own armdrag. Over and over again you go, swapping back and forth.
Just when you think you can't go one more time, Daybreak's whistle sounds off. "Break!"
You lie panting on the mat for a little while longer, Leah right beside you. She nods at you as Caleb helps her to her feet. You nod back but don't move any further. You want nothing more than to lie a in a puddle of your own sweat for a little while longer. But someone grabs your leg and pulls, hauling you outside.
You land on your feet on the mats outside, glaring at Jack. "I was comfortable." you grumble.
"You were also missing lunch." he responds.
The two of you head over to the side, where Allie's already grabbed your sandwiches. You dig into them with a vengeance. None of you speak as you devour the meal in front of you. Jack's done first. He wipes his hands on his shirt and leans back in the chair. "Damn Lucas." he mutters as if to himself.
You cuff him in the shoulder. "Chloe's real nice, dude. And it was an accident. Could've happened to any of us." Jack's first spin through the HA-larious gauntlet had been against the park ranger, and the order had been bodyslams and elbow drops. He'd posted perfectly for the slam and bumped great. But Chloe had nailed him right in the face with her follow up elbow. Even now you can see the skin under his eye beginning to purple.
But an accident's an accident. Chloe had been beside herself after that. Even now, two hours later, you see her shooting worried looks at your friend and flinching. It was a minor thing and she's already upset enough. No reason to hold it against her.
You guys talk about the gauntlet for the rest of the break, sipping on water and finishing the crumbs of your meals. Daybreak's whistle signals a return to training, but she doesn't split you up between ring crew and monitor duty like she normally does. Instead she calls you all from the ring. "Minions!" she yells. "Get in here and take a knee!"
Once everyone is in the ring, Daybreak begins to speak. "You've all been doing well." she says, pacing back and forth along the ropes. "You're at least competent at the basics. You won't kill yourself in the ring on something routine and you won't embarrass me when you run the ropes. A good start."
"And now that the chaff has been winnowed out we can start getting to the more advanced stuff. Actual matches. Holds besides arm drags and bodyslams. Body control and psychology. But I've got one question for you first."
She looks around and meets the gaze of every student in the ring. "What is the most important thing a wrestler can learn?"
Daybreak pauses and lets the question sink in. "Come on. Tell me. What do you think the most important thing is to a wrestler?
Naomi hesitantly raises her hand. "Um… Cardio?" she asks more than says. Daybreak nods, acknowledging her answer without responding to it. She looks around the ring for more answers.
Allie speaks up from beside you. "Athleticism." She answers. No surprise there; Allie's got freakishly good control of her body and you can already tell she'll be a natural flier.
"A good gimmick." Caleb guesses. "There's no market for John Doe, wrestler in black tights."
"Good basics." is Jack's answer.
The rest of the class slowly begins to chime in, answering Daybreak's question. You're still thinking about it though. It's an important question.
What do you think is the most important thing to a wrestler?
[] Athleticism. You've got to be able to move well and stand out from the crowd if you want to make it anywhere in this business. (+1 Athleticism Roll)
[] Cardio. One of those things no one thinks about, you've got to have world-class endurance to be able to have any kind of decent match. (+1 Cardio Roll)
[] The Fundamentals. Often overlooked, it's the little things that are so important. How to bump, how to run the ropes, how to lock up. If there's one thing you've learned so far it's how important those things are to the final match. (+1 Basics Roll)
[] The Gimmick. Everyone needs a character, and if you don't have good one, it doesn't matter how good your wrestling is. (+1 Cool Roll)
[] Power. You've seen enough wrestlers to know that this is a business for the strong. Both the mentally strong, and more obviously the physically strong. You can go a long way if you can bench press a piano, that's all you're saying. (+1 Power Roll)
[] Safety. Both your own and your opponents. No one wants to work with a wrestler that hurts who he's in the ring with, and if you can't take care of yourself your career is going to be damn short. (+1 Safety Roll)
[] Selling. The most important thing to a match is making the match look good, and no one will buy it if you just shrug off blows and act like nothing matter. (+1 Selling Roll)
[] Showmanship. It's the showman's aspect that makes wrestling more than just fake fighting. Without it you might as well have picked up boxing. (+1 Showmanship Roll)
Daybreak nods slowly, digesting all of you answers. Once all of you have spoken, she holds up a hand for silence. Any kind of chatter dies out as she waits. When there's no sound left in the basement she speaks once more.
"Almost all of you are wrong."
There's a fair amount of surprise on the faces of your fellow students, but most of them seem to have expected it. Instead of protesting they wait in silence as Daybreak lets her words sink in.
"Only Martin's got his head screwed on straight." she says, gesturing in your direction. "The most important thing for a wrestler is safety- both your, and your opponents." Daybreak stops her pacing right in front of Allie and meets her eyes steadily. "It doesn't matter how high you can jump or how many flips you can do. If no one's there to catch you, you're leaving the ring in a wheelchair."
She moves on to Caleb. "You could be a fucking catchphrase machine and have the crowd going along with your every word, but if you don't know how to take care of yourself it'll end in tragedy."
"Safety." Daybreak stresses. "Is a wrestler's life. You don't stay safe, you get hurt. You get hurt and you can't work anymore- you can kiss your career goodbye, because unless you're one of the few to make it to the big leagues, no one's going to be taking care of your medical bills. You think Skull Smash Pro downtown can make enough money to take care of you if you break a leg or shatter an eye? Because if so, I've got a bridge I can sell you out back."
She snorts. "Why are we having this talk now? Because we're about to get to the parts that can really fuck you up. You can leave now and no one will think any less of you."
Daybreak pauses, waiting. To absolutely no one's surprise, no one leaves, though Leah looks a bit worried. "Don't try and say I didn't warn you." your teacher finishes. "Now stand up and let's teach you fucks how to fall off the top rope."
The next few days are exhilarating, terrifying, and awe-inspiring all at the same time. Daybreak walks you all through the basics of what she calls the 'dangerous shit' in painstaking detail and then makes you try it. Not the class- you. You're her chosen test dummy for all of these things, from ropewalking to flat-back bumps off the top rope to headscissors and huracanranas. It's an instructive time to say the least.
But that's not where your time with your teacher ended. After training on Monday, Daybreak doesn't just let you go off on your own anymore. She stays down in the basement and continues with her lessons, a bit more personalized then when it's the entire class. She gives Allie some character tips, walks Jack through a bit of trouble he's been having with mat work, but you know you're not imagining that she seems to be focusing on you with laser like precision.
You bring it up on the walk back to the motel later in the week. "Do you guys think I pissed her off or what?"
Jack snorts. "I wish I could piss her off like you can then." You've got to shake your head at that. Your late training had been half working, half listening to Daybreak yell at you for a bad bump you'd taken. If that's not pissed, what is?
From your other side, Allie chimes in. "Isn't it obvious? She thinks you're the only one with 'your head screwed on straight', remember? So she's pumping as much of that sweet, sweet knowledge into your skull as you can take."
You guess they've got a point. Still, when the end of the week rolls around, you're looking forward to it. You love learning this; and this kind of personalized instruction is what you've been craving since you showed up at Horizon. But it feels like you've been hit repeatedly in the head with a heavy stick for a week, and you could use the breather.
Maybe you're not the only one to feel that way. The entire class seems beaten down after morning exercises. Daybreak can tell; there's nothing advanced after lunch. Instead the entire class just watches tape.
Five o'clock rolls around before you know it. Daybreak is waving everyone off with something close to a smile. "Good work this week, minions!" she cheers. "Congrats on not dying! Look forward to next week- we're going to do some tag team stuff!"
After everyone that doesn't normally stay is gone, she turns back to you all. "And as for you guys- what're you planning for tomorrow?"
The three of you trade looks. You don't think Daybreak's ever been curious about what you do when you're not here. You don't have any real plans, so you shrug.
"Umm," Jack speaks up. "I've got a ticket for an indy show over in Annapolis tomorrow. Nothing big, but figured it might be a good idea to get a look at the scene. If either-" he stops, looks at Daybreak, and nods at her, "- if any of you want to come, I can grab you a ticket at the door."
Daybreak quirks an eyebrow. "Oh? What company?"
Jack pulls out his phone. "Looks like… 100 Strong Wrestling. Main event is Joey Six vs. Snailmail Destroyer."
Your teacher snorts in amusement. "He's still running with that stupid gimmick?" She shrugs. "Not like I've got any room to judge."
Allie speaks up. "I gonna have to pass. Sorry Jack. But I've got an appointment downtown tomorrow."
"Let me guess," you say, a note of teasing in your voice. "A new tattoo?"
"How'd you know?"
You pause and move the conversation along as quickly as you can. "What're you getting?"
"Not sure." Allie replies. "Found a good place and figured I'd pick something out when I got down there. Don't have a dragon yet- maybe one of those. I was going to ask if you guys wanted to come with to give an opinion, maybe make a day of it, but if Jack's busy it could just be us."
Daybreak snaps her fingers. "Fuck. I was hoping you all'd be free."
At your questioning look, she goes on. "I've got a booking tomorrow. Not a match- a signing. Some low-rent comic con. But their check cleared, and I don't like to turn down free money. Delilah's coming along and I was hoping you guys could keep her out of trouble." Daybreak shrugs. "Eh. I can always make Brad do it."
Well. Looks like everyone's got plans for the free day tomorrow except you. But that means you're free to do whatever you'd like.
[] Take Jack up on his offer. You're always in the mood for watching wrestling, and it's never a bad idea to get an idea of who's in the area.
[] Go downtown with Allie. If she wants your creative input, you'll give her your creative input. Besides, you haven't seen Baltimore except for the area between the basement and the motel- there's gotta be something fun to do.
[] Hit the Comic Con with Daybreak. While your mentor will be busy all day, you're sure you can find something fun to do with Delilah. You haven't seen much of the kid since she got kicked out of the basement- time to remedy that.
-------------------------- Mechanic Changes
Relationship Changes Lucy 'Daybreak' McCarthy: Neutral -> Acquaintance. Daybreak has decided you're not a moron, and that you need some extra lessons.
Stat Changes Secret Reward Attained: Not a Moron!- Daybreak has decided to take you a bit further under her wing. For that, you get extra training rolls!
8 Extra Training Rolls! Divided into: 2 Showmanship, 2 Aerial, 2 Safety, 1 Basics, 1 Psychology
Ves's Note: Those last two get +50% due to 'Aerial Enthusiast'.
Vote Tally : Original - Ten Pounds of Gold: A Pro Wrestling Quest | Page 14 | Sufficient Velocity ##### NetTally 1.7.5
[X] Hit the Comic Con with Daybreak. While your mentor will be busy all day, you're sure you can find something fun to do with Delilah. You haven't seen much of the kid since she got kicked out of the basement- time to remedy that No. of Votes: 18
[X] Take Jack up on his offer. You're always in the mood for watchingwrestling, and it's never a bad idea to get an idea of who's in the area. No. of Votes: 3
[X] Go downtown with Allie. If she wants your creative input, you'll give her your creative input. Besides, you haven't seen Baltimore except for the area between the basement and the motel- there's gotta be something fun to do. No. of Votes: 3
Not just because this is the first time in almost two months that you're going to go a day without seeing your friends. Not just because you're going to a comic convention with not only a teacher's endorsement, but by her explicit demand. Not just because you've found yourself placed in the role of surrogate chaperone. That's all strange, sure.
But what's really strange is the keys that impact your chest the moment you open the door to Daybreak's house. They bounce off and land on the floor with a jingle. Daybreak sidesteps you and walks out the door without even looking back, taking a sip of orange juice from a bottle. "Pick those up." She says as she nimbly hops down the stairs.
"Yeah!" Delilah chimes in as she skips by you. The kid is dressed in an all blue jumpsuit that's oddly familiar to you. You're sure you'd recognize it if you were given a second to think. But that's not in the cards; Delilah stops and points at you. "MOOOM! He's not picking them up!"
"Martin!" Daybreak calls. "You're going to make us late! I think for every minute we're late, you're going to have to play a round of Squat Pickup!"
The keys are in your hand a second later. Like fuck you want to play Squat Pickup. You love to work hard, but from the loving detail your teacher describes the exercise card game, you want to stay as far away from it as possible.
You trot after Daybreak, keys in an outstretched hand. She looks at them like they're a poisonous spider. "Martin, I know you have days where you're not too bright, but you're not totally stupid. Car keys," she says slowly, as if to a four year old, "Go in the car. Not in hands." You freeze.
"Huh?" You manage to say.
"You're driving."
"Duh!" Delilah yells.
"But… but… I never really-"
Daybreak glares at you. "You do know how to drive, right?" You nod instantly. "And you have a license?" Another nod. "Then what's the holdup?"
"I-" you start before cutting yourself off. You want to tell Daybreak all about how you have the license- you got it when you were sixteen after all- but you haven't really used it since. You've never had a car, and the bus was just a lot more convenient to you. You can't watch old matches on your phone when you're driving after all. But saying all that sounds like it would be an excuse. And you know how Daybreak deals with excuses.
You slide into the driver's seat of Daybreak's surprisingly sensible minivan and start it up. Delilah pulls open one of the side doors and hops in, followed closely by your teacher. As you put the thing in reverse and back out of the driveway you spare a quick glance for them. Delilah is safely buckled in, while Daybreak is kneeling in front of her, safety pins tucked between her lips as she focuses on something at Delilah's sleeves.
But before you ask about that, you've got to ask a more important question. "Umm… Daybreak? Where am I driving us?"
She sighs as if disappointed at your lack of mind reading and gives you the address. You plug it into the GPS and study the new route. Not bad- only a two hour drive. You can make it there in plenty of-
"And we have to be there by two for booth setup."
You look at the clock, back to the GPS, back to the clock, back to the GPS, and then at Daybreak's wide, evil smile.
There's no way in fuck that you're playing Squat Pickup. You hit the gas and peel out of the driveway to the sound of screeching tires, a cheering Delilah, and Daybreak's cursing.
***
Twenty minutes later, you're on the highway. Daybreak seems satisfied with her alterations to Delilah's costume and joins you up front. But she doesn't take the wheel. Instead she leans back in her seat, puts her feet on the dashboard, and pops a bottle of orange soda open with her thumb.
You know better then to ask her why she's not driving. If Daybreak wanted to let you know why she wasn't driving, she'd let you know. So you focus on the wheel and the road in front of you. Thankfully driving is easier than you remember- or you suddenly got much better at it while you were doing whatever you could to avoid Squat Pickup.
Daybreak cuts through your focus with a sigh. "So, Martin," she asks. "What do you think you're going to be doing after training?" You shoot her a confused look. You're going to be wrestling. What did she think you're going to be doing? Running a pizza shop? She shakes her head at that. "I keep forgetting how Sofa King young you are."
Wait what- ah. You look in the rear view mirror at Delilah, who's playing with an iPad. That's an… interesting way for Daybreak to get around cursing in front of her kid. But heedless of your thoughts, she goes on.
"Seriously, kid. Get a plan. Not one of those huge lists I see some people try and do, full of these specific goals." She says, waving a hand absently. "Like a basic one. Figure out where you're gonna live. Figure out what you're gonna do when you're not between the ropes, because trust me, unless you manage to save a promoter's kid from a bear, there's no way in Hello that you're gonna get a full time spot anywhere for a year at least."
You'd speak up, but Daybreak seems content to hear herself talk. "Honestly, figuring out what you're gonna do for work is the hardest part. It's got to be flexible or you'll be out of a job real quick. It's got to be forgiving of the occasional black eye, and it's got to be run by someone who is either real nice or who really doesn't care, because even with the flexible hours there's going to come a time you just can't go in."
She takes a swig of her soda and grins fondly, as if remembering something. "Bouncing's usually a good move, or maybe some kind of janitor work. But don't let a sweet opportunity pass you by because you think it doesn't fit. Take my first job. I was out of training-"
You've got to break in here. "Who trained you?"
"Sammy 'Steamboat' Willie." Daybreak replies, looking at you questioningly. You just shake your head. Some people are too obscure even for your own obsessive wrestling knowledge. She shakes her head. "No real surprise there. He was an unknown even back then. Biggest claim to fame was he'd done a few jobs when the UWC rolled through. He would never, ever shut up about the time he almost pinned Sovereign. 'I had the chance,' he always said. 'Had him knocked loopy. Coulda gone into business for myself- made me some real money. But no. Wouldn'ta been right.'"
You snort. The idea of some unknown almost pinning Sovereign, nine time UWC World Heavyweight Champion, is laughable. Not because it couldn't happen- but because it didn't. Even if this Steamboat had had the living shit kicked out of him, and he probably would've, he still would have been able to trade on that win for years on the indies or in WPW.
Daybreak nods as if reading your mind. "Yeah. That's what I thought too. But anyway, I was fresh out of Steamboat's place and looking for work. I figured I'd have to find a busboy job or some stuff, but the perfect thing walked right up to me. And that's how I made my living delivering Meals on Wheels for three years until I made it big."
Okay, this you've got to hear. "How did Meals on Wheels walk up to you exactly?"
"Simple. You see, I made this friend that had a grandma. The guy-" And so she goes, telling you all about her first job. That story turns into another, this one about what it was like to team up with Indigo Thunder in Femme Fatale Wrestling, and then another about towns she'd traveled through, venues she'd wrestled, and places she would never go again.
The entire drive is taken up with Daybreak's storytelling. You drink it all in like a parched plant in a monsoon. These stories are pure knowledge to you, distilled down into it's basest form. Each little anecdote has it's own little kernel of information if you can only dig it out and understand it. As time goes by, she stops telling you specific stories, and starts just telling you what's on her mind.
"You've got a way with the flippy stuff, Martin. You've only been at this what, two month? Yeah, two months and you're already moving pretty well, got decent body control, and can take a nice flip bump. The only one better than you is Gray and she's got a heck of a head start. But be careful with it."
"I know I need to be-"
Daybreak interrupts you by holding up one finger and finishing the last of her soda. "No, no. Not safety this time. Good to know you're keeping your head on straight. No, I'm talking about knowing when to do a move."
Once she sees you're not going to interrupt any more, she pulls out another bottle. "When guys can flip and spin and jump off high things, especially on the indies, that's all they tend to do. Their matches are all flipping and spinning and crashing and burning. There's no logic to it. A guy can do three thousand flips, so by gosh, he's going to do all three thousand in one match."
"Being a wrestler isn't about what moves you can do. I've seen guys succeed barely able to do a big boot. It's about knowing when to do those moves. Those guys who go high-spot high-spot high-spot finish? They shock the crowd the first time they show up? But the next time, less. Time after, even less than that. Before long they've seen all your flips, and you've got nothing else."
"Know when to flip and when to sell, Martin. It'll take you far."
By the end of her impromptu lesson, you're nodding along. You're also pulling into a parking space outside of an older Marriott Inn three miles outside Washington D.C.
You look at the clock. 1:52. You slump in your seat with a sigh of relief. At least for today you've gotten away from Squat Pickup.
Daybreak grins at your expression. "Awww. Maybe next time!" She undoes her seat belt and hops out of the van. "Doors open at four. You guys go… I don't know, do whatever until then. And if you get pulled over, I'm telling everyone you stole my van." She closes the door with a jaunty wave and turns, heading into the hotel.
Delilah scrambles into the seat her mother just left. She looks up at you with an eager expression.
"So, Martin! What're we doing? Is it gonna be fun?"
...well then.
What are you doing with Delilah until the convention starts?
[] From what you remember, kids are always hungry. And if they're not, you are. You'll go find someplace to eat and take Delilah out to a late lunch.
[] After so long behind the wheel you need to stretch your legs. Leave the van and go for a walk. There's gotta be something interesting around here to see, right?
[] This seat reclines, and you could do with a nap. Delilah's got her iPad and you know you saw some kind of game system back there. She'll be fine while you sleep.
Vote Tally : Original - Ten Pounds of Gold: A Pro Wrestling Quest | Page 15 | Sufficient Velocity ##### NetTally 1.7.5
[X] From what you remember, kids are always hungry. And if they're not, you are. You'll go find someplace to eat and take Delilah out to a late lunch. No. of Votes: 10
[X] After so long behind the wheel you need to stretch your legs. Leave the van and go for a walk. There's gotta be something interesting around here to see, right? No. of Votes: 6
It doesn't take you long to find someplace to eat; there are at least six different places within five blocks. Picking one takes slightly longer but you finally settle on the one you're pretty sure will keep Delilah entertained the most. Fifteen minutes after dropping off Daybreak finds you in the parking lot of a nearby Friendlys.
You're not the only one in town for the convention. Friendlys has been taken over by people and families dressed in outfits that would look right at home in the ring. You count at least six Power Rangers, three men in magical princess costumes, and a couple dressed in fine clothing covered in bloodstains. You've got no idea who they are until you see the sign they've put down next to their table which reads 'My Parents are DEAAAAAAD'.
Delilah studies them all as you're shown to your table with a stern look stolen right from her mother. "Pfaw." she scoffs once you're in a booth. "Store bought. Pathetic."
"You say that like it's a bad thing." you say idly as you place your orders.
The girl looks at you with naked disdain. "Of course it's a bad thing, Martin. If you're going to take the time to get all dressed up for a nerd con, you should put in the effort of making it yourself."
"Most people don't have the skill to make a good outfit." you reply.
Delilah shakes her head as if you're just not understanding. "Then the outfit would look bad." she explains, scorn thickening her voice. "But it'd be a bad they can be proud of, not some store bought perfection. Like me. You've got no idea who I am, right?"
You've got to admit, you still don't. Not for a lack of trying. The blue jumpsuit is familiar but you just can't put your finger on it.
"But put on some extra touches." She continues. "Some bigger shoulder pads, some huge combat boots, a star right here-" she points at her right bicep, "And you'd figure it out."
Ahh. There it is. When she points out what it's missing, it's obvious. "High Society?" you guess. The High Society was a stable of futuristic wrestlers from WPW back in the late eighties, back when everyone was convinced that 'futuristic' meant jumpsuits and shoulder pads. They'd be nothing but a footnote if their leader hadn't been 'Showtime' Ronnie Rush, one of the biggest stars of the mid-to-late nineties. So instead of being lost to obscurity like most gimmicks from that time, the blue jumpsuits were all over ever Hall of Fame video and tribute package that Rush was featured in.
"Kendal Khaos, specifically. Mom won't let me put on that much glitter yet." Delilah says, rolling her eyes. "But anyway. I made this costume last year. It's not the best thing ever, but I did it all myself. I cut the fabric, I stitched it up, I bought it with my allowance. It's mine and it's the coolest thing ever. I'm going to make another one next year and it's going to be even better."
She waves her hand at the crowds of people in the diner. "If they're just going to go out and buy it, they're missing out on the whole fun of dressing up! Sure I can tell what they are, but that's not the point."
Delilah goes on about costume design and the importance of making your own stuff for however long it takes for your food to arrive, speaking much more eloquently than you honestly thought an eight year old would be capable of. It's a contrast to the other kids in Friendly's; you can see them out of the corner of your eye. They're ignoring their parents, running back and forth in the aisle, screaming at the top of their lungs, and generally making themselves into the biggest terror you can imagine. Thank god Delilah's better than that. She's not making one bit of noise as she devours her burger with single minded focus.
She finishes her food long before you do and stares at you impatiently. Your raise an eyebrow as you eat. You're not speeding up just because she can inhale food. Eventually she decides she doesn't need you to have an empty mouth to talk.
"So, talking about costumes. You given any idea what you're gonna have your ring gear be?"
You pause as you chew, thinking. You've had some ideas, but nothing definitive. After you swallow, you ask "Any ideas? Oh, and before you suggest it, there's no way I'm making it myself."
Delilah rolls her eyes again. "Of course not, dunce. You make costumes yourself for stuff like this. When you're in the ring you've gotta look your best or no one'll hire you. If you can do both, that's great, but you should definitely pay for it."
She doesn't pause to let you reply. She continues, "I don't think a single is really your thing. You don't have the body or the training to pull off an amateur gimmick. Maybe short tights? Nah, you'd have to work on your calves. Maybe after some hardcore leg work." Delilah continues on like this for a ways, dissecting your body in ways that make you feel a touch uncomfortable.
You've always known that wrestling was a cosmetic business. Hard work and skill is great, but you've got look the part if you want to make it big. But you never thought you'd get appraised by a kid like this. Not that it's really a surprise; Delilah's grown up eating and sleeping and sweating Wrestling. She's probably been thinking of finishers and ring psychology since the crib.
"Long tights." She finally concludes. "At first at least. Not black though, everyone does black. Only do black if you can think of something cool to put on it. But make sure it's cool, not cheesy. Unless cheesy's what you're going for. You thinking of doing-" The rest of her sentence is lost in the general tumult of the misbehaving children.
"What?" you ask.
"Comedy!" she repeats, raising her voice slightly. You thinking of doing comedy?"
You mutter something noncommittal, but Delilah nods as if you've made perfect sense. "Yeah, you're not much of a comedy guy. You'll do some, definitely, but it's not really your thing. Comedy's more Silvia's roll. Make him study some old Legionnaire stuff, or maybe the stuff Mom did in POWW. She hates when I watch those but she was hilarious!"
"Hm?" You say, attention fully drawn from your chicken. "You think Jack would be better for comedy?"
"Well duh."
"I don't really think that's what he's going for."
She shrugs. "He'd be good at it. You know what his issue is? He's too focused on in-ring stuff. It might make him good at the wrestling, but it's only part of it. If you can slap on a headlock but can't mock the crowd, what's the point?"
You see her point. But she's not done. "Seriously. Work on that with him. If you guys want to make it anywhere you've got to be able to do a bit of everything. And he can make it if he wants to. He's already better than like three quarters of the people Mom trains."
You're curious now. You've known Delilah has her insights here, but you've never really asked her for anything but a promo audience. Granted she's eight, so you'd better take this with a grain of salt, but still. "What about the rest of the class?" you ask, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the other kids. "What do you think of them?"
She chews her cheek thoughtfully. "I'm not sure about most of you scrubs." she says absently, clearly thinking hard. "I've only really watched you, Gray, and Silvia for a while. I've barely seen the rest of em. But from what I can see…"
What follows is a fifteen minute dissection of your entire class, their talents, and how much each of them sucks in their own specific way. No one is left out, from Chloe- who "Can't push herself without someone holding her hand."- to Nick, who "Could have something if he had started this ten years ago.".
By the time she wraps up Allie- "She can go as far as she wants if she just figures out how to talk."- you're finishing up your ice cream, and there's only one person left she hasn't gone over.
"What about me?" You ask as you lick your spoon, tuning out one kid's particularly piercing shriek.
She stares at you closely. You wait, entirely too nervous about this evaluation coming from a girl that barely comes up to your waist. Delilah finishes licking the syrup up, wipes her face off with a napkin, and puts it down with a very final sounding clink. "You… you need to learn how to be someone else."
...what.
Delilah goes on. "Part of wrestling is the wrestling. You're picking up on that fine. Part of it's the talking, and you're not bad at that either. But part of it is playing a character." She breathes out a heavy sigh. "Look, Martin, basically, you suck at playing a gimmick."
Ah. That makes a lot more sense. You do need to work on that. Maybe start thinking about costumes and watching more movies? You remember reading that a lot of big names started by just ripping off someone in fiction and moving on.
As your mind starts breaking down the problem, you pay for your meal and check your phone. You've got forty minutes to go before the doors open for the con. Still have some time to kill. You sit back in the booth and think.
Delilah doesn't seem to share your laid back attitude. She seems to be getting more and more agitated as you sit there in silence. Soon she can't take the silence any longer. "Why isn't anyone doing anything about that?" she asks.
"About what?" you reply, confused. In answer, Delilah waves her hand at the back booth, which is still overwhelmed by kids in the middle of a tantrum. One of them- a young boy- has progressed to throwing himself stomach down on the floor, beating his fists against the tile. Another girl is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the aisle, singing some theme song you don't know at the top of her lungs. The parents are sitting idly in their seats, barely paying them any attention.
You shrug. They're not your kids, and you've seen enough parents snap at people for interfering with their children that you want no part of it. You say as much to Delilah. The girl watches you with wide eyes. She sits in silence for another minutes, thinking carefully. With a decisive nod, she stands up. "Alright then. I'll get this."
"Delilah, you can't-" But she's already gone, stalking towards the kids with her jaw set and determination on her face. You move to stand, but a waitress with a full tray is coming by and you're forced to dodge. By the time you get up she's already there. You groan. This is going to end well.
You can't hear what she's saying, but Delilah marches up to the parents and tugs on the dad's sleeve. She looks like she's trying her best to be polite, but the man just brushes her off. You move as fast as you can through the crowded diner. Maybe there's still time to head this off.
Nope. You come into earshot just as Delilah's letting the man's sleeve go. "Fine," you hear her say. "If you won't do something, I will." And she walks over to the boy, who at this point is about to be sick.
"You!" She bellows at the top of her lungs. It echoes through Friendlys, cutting off all conversation and noise as everyone turns to look at the unfolding scene. "You're making everyone miserable and giving me a headache! Stop it!"
The kid wipes his nose and you get your first full look at him since you got here. Your respect for his parents shrinks even more- he has to be at least ten. When you were ten, your problem was getting out of a book to talk to anyone, not throwing a temper tantrum. He sniffs at Delilah. "You're not the boss of me! I'm gonna do-"
Delilah's heard enough. She reaches out with a quick hand and grabs the kid's ear and twists. The kid lets out a yelp of pain as Delilah pulls him in close. "You listen to me," she growls, voice carrying. "And you listen good. Your pathetic parents might love you. They might care about you and indulge you. But me? I don't give a rat's-" she freezes as she realizes what she's about to say, "-posterior."
"You've made my life miserable for a long time. You've made these people's lives miserable for a long time. No more. I will not sit and listen to you make a posterior out of yourself any more! And-" The mom reaches over and pulls Delilah off with a panicked noise, breaking the spell.
You're disappointed. You've never seen someone adapt Daybreak's famous 'Protector' promo to be used against small children before, and you're curious how she was going to call him a twisted rat-fucker without cursing.
The mom is yelling at Delilah now, who's looking at her shrieking face with a bored expression. But her grip is tightening around your charge's wrist, and you doubt anything good is about to happen. You should do something. But what?
What are you going to do?
[] Like hell you're going to let anyone manhandle the kid. You're going to go over there and let them know exactly what's going to happen if they don't let her go and let this go. Make it clear there's going to be a scene if this keeps up, and it's going to be because they're awful parents. (+1 Brute Roll, +1 Heel Roll)
[] Get over there now and make your apologies. They were being brats, sure, but Delilah probably shouldn't have grabbed the boy like that. Apologize and make your excuses. (+1 Wholesome Roll, +1 Babyface Roll)
[] You've had enough words. Go over there and ask if there's a problem. If there is, take the dad outside. The mom too if she has a problem. You can take em both, and frankly they've gotten on your last nerve. (+1 Brawling Roll, +1 Cocky Roll)
[] Food's done, check's paid. Get the kid and get out of there. Now. Grab her and leave. You're probably already going to be in trouble with Daybreak as it is. No need to add on to it. (+1 Cardio Roll, +1 Athleticism Roll)
[] Write-In (Variable Rolls, depending on write-in.)
Vote Tally : Original - Ten Pounds of Gold: A Pro Wrestling Quest | Page 16 | Sufficient Velocity ##### NetTally 1.7.5
[X] You've had enough words. Go over there and ask if there's a problem. If there is, take the dad outside. The mom too if she has a problem. You can take em both, and frankly they've gotten on your last nerve. (+1 Brawling Roll, +1 Cocky Roll) No. of Votes: 13
[X] Food's done, check's paid. Get the kid and get out of there. Now. Grab her and leave. You're probably already going to be in trouble with Daybreak as it is. No need to add on to it. (+1 Cardio Roll, +1 Athleticism Roll) No. of Votes: 10
[X] Like hell you're going to let anyonemanhandle the kid. You're going to go over there and let them know exactly what's going to happen if they don't let her go and let this go. Make it clear there's going to be a scene if this keeps up, and it's going to be because they're awful parents. (+1 Brute Roll, +1 Heel Roll) No. of Votes: 10
[X] Get over there now and make your apologies. They were being brats, sure, but Delilah probably shouldn't have grabbed the boy like that. Apologize and make your excuses. (+1 Wholesome Roll, +1 Babyface Roll) No. of Votes: 1
Alright. You need to be calm here. Nothing good has ever come from acting rashly. There's a waitress rushing over already, begging for calm and apologies. You can just let her handle this. No need to do anything stupid.
Yes, calm is what's needed here. Calm and thoughtful action. You breathe deeply, trying to let the calm flow through you. The smart course of action would be go over there, make some apologies, grab Delilah, and leave. Or maybe just grab the kid and haul ass out of Friendlys. You've already paid after all, and there's no reason for you to hang out here any longer.
You take a step towards the scene- and freeze.
Without the mom standing in your way, you can clearly see Delilah's face for the first time. It's screwed up in a grimace of pain, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. The woman is holding onto her tightly, much too tightly, and the man isn't paying any attention. He's too busy yelling at the waitress. His words wash over you like so much trash-scented spittle. You can kind of make them out, something about coupons, but you're beyond caring.
No. No. You have to be calm. Your blood is pumping in your veins, heart pounding in your ears, but you have to stay calm. It's the only way to get out of here without getting into some kind of trouble. You take another breathe-
Delilah lets out a squeal of pain.
Fuck these people.
You're behind the woman so fast you think you might have teleported, your hand on her shoulder. She lets out her own cry of pain, and you're vaguely aware you're putting entirely too much pressure into your grip. Right now, you don't care. "Let. Go. Of. My. Brat." you snarl.
She drops Deliah's arm like it's on fire. You shoot the kid a look as you let go of the woman, and she scurries behind you. The mom spins to stare at you, rubbing her shoulder. "What kind of-"
"I'm sorry," you cut her off, voice low but pitched to carry. "I'm sorry you and your stupid husband are so shit at parenting that an eight year old decided to do it for you. I'm sorry you thought you could lay a hand on her. And I'm sorry that you're such a goddamn idiot that you think you have any right to complain about any of this."
From behind you, you hear a woman protest. "Sir, calm down! Your meal is on us today for the inconvenience! But please-"
She's overwhelmed by a roar of rage. "What the fuck do yew think yer doin' to my wife!"
You turn slowly and meet the dad's seething glare with one of your own. "Giving her a goddamn parenting lesson." You reply. "Do you have a problem with it?"
He marches up to you and pokes a finger in your chest. "Damn right I've got a problem with it! Yer girl laid hands on my boy and should be punished. And you- you should be punished too! A boy your age with a daughter; no wonder she's got no manners!"
Delilah gasps from behind you, a sharp, offended noise. You're not sure if she's offended because he said she has no manners, or because he thinks you're her dad, but you don't rightly care right now. You grab the finger that's being jabbed into your chest and bend. The man yelps, and you get in his face. "The only people who've got no manners here are you and your goddamn brood. I've got half a mind to teach you some."
The man staggers back. He looks scared for half a second before he looks behind you, at his wife and kids, and his jaw firms. "If that's how ye want to play it, boy, then fine! Let's take this outside!"
He turns and marches outside, already rolling his sleeves up. You pause. You may be learning how to fake-fight, but you've never been in a real fight before. Well, not unless you count Rickey Savage in seventh grade. Punk tried to pour a slushie into your backpack. But you can't really call that a fight- it was more of a wild flail of sorts.
But you really, really don't like these people, and there's a first time for everything. You march out the door after him.
He's ready for you. You barely get outside before he charges you with a wild roar. But he moves so slowly. It's a simple thing for you to reach out and grab him in a front facelock. He snarls in rage and swats at you ineffectual with bearlike mitts. They bounce off your sides like rain on a car. You tighten your grip and squeeze.
It doesn't seem to have any effect- maybe if you knew more about actual fighting you'd know how MMA fighters always seem to put people out with this. Fuck it. You let go and push him away. He staggers back, and you step in. One, two punches pound into his gut. He gasps for air, air you don't want him to have.
A nasty idea crosses your mind and your hands move on their own. You reach down and grab his flannel shirt, pulling it up. His pale gut is exposed and his face is hidden, his arms trapped in the air. "Lemme go and fight like a man!" he coughs out.
You shrug. "Okay." You let go of his shirt. But he can't fix it before your fists find their mark again, peppering his body with heavy punches. He goes down, coughing.
"Martin!" Delilah shrieks behind you. You spin instinctively and watch as the woman crashes through the space you were just in, burying her husband under her copious weight. They both roll around, gasping for air.
What do you do now? Should you- should you follow up? You can't make that decision before Delilah is there, kicking at the squirming duo. "You suck!" she wails, rubbing her arm as she kicks. "You suck, and you suck, and you suck, and you-"
You grab her and pull her off. Fuck, you think she might've done more damage to them than you did. Either way, they're out of it and not getting up.
A hand grabs your shoulder and you spin, fists raised. But it's only the waitress from before. She raises her hands defensively, but you hold back before you nail her. She leans in, voice low and hurried. "You've got to get out of here, now."
"They're a local problem," she says, waving a hand at the heap, "But the cops'll still look for whoever did this. Maybe not too hard once they hear the whole story. But unless you want to spend a night in the drunk tank, you've gotta get out of here. I'll stall them." Already, you hear sirens beginning to wail in the distance.
"Aw, daaaaamn." Delilah groans out. You shake her a little, gratified at the grumbling sound she makes.
"This is your fault." you mutter before looking back at the waitress. "Thanks though. We'll get moving."
And you do. You bolt to the minivan and practically throw Delilah into it before starting it up and hitting the gas. You drive out of the Friendly's parking lot at a too-sedate pace for your nerves, which beg for you to haul ass at record speeds. But getting out will do nothing if you're pulled over for speeding. When you get a few blocks down the road you chance a glance in your rear view mirror. A patrol car is pulling into the place you've just left, but none are following you.
Once you're parked at the Marriott again you breathe a sigh of relief. "I think we're safe." you say as you slump back in the chair.
Delilah looks worried. "But- but what if they describe the van?" she asks.
You shake your head. "We got there after they did, so they didn't see the van. And they were pretty out of it when we left. If they're so much of a local problem, then I don't think that most of the people there'll give us up. And I paid cash, so they don't have my name or anything. As long as we don't run into them again we should be fine."
You hope. But you don't say that last part out loud. Delilah looks worried enough as it is. The two of you sit in silence as the adrenaline drains from your bodies. Finally, you look over at the kid. "Okay. You shouldn't have done that."
She nods, the tears still in her eyes. "Yeah, I know. I just- just- they were being such brats! If I ever acted like that, Mom would spank me for hours! How could they just scream like that?!"
You nod. "That's because your Mom wants to raise you right, while those people don't care how their kids turn out."
Delilah lets out a watery laugh. "Heh. Yeah. Once, when we were grocery shopping, we passed this kid throwing a fit! Mom just pointed and laughed at him. She said 'Good thing you're better than that!'"
You have absolutely no problem picturing Daybreak doing that. None at all.
Oh. Oh yeah. That's right. Daybreak. If she found out that you and her daughter had gotten into a fight? That'd probably be trouble. You trade a look with Delilah, and for once you're both on the same page.
You hold out your first. "We're not going to mention this to your mom, okay?"
She nods vigorously. "Yeah. Yeah. Not gonna say a word." She bumps her fist against yours. The two of you sit in a more relaxed silence for a few minutes. Eventually, she glances at the dashboard clock. "What time is it?"
"Hm… a little after four."
It's like a switch is thrown. She goes from sagging in her seat to standing, jumping up and down. "The convention's open, the convention's open!"
Oh, right. The reason you're here. The two of you get out of the van and join the crowd of nerds streaming into the hotel. You try and put the fight and the shitty, shitty parents behind you.
There's fun to be had!
Where do you go once you're inside the convention?
[] Sal Penn, an author you're a fan of, is giving a panel on good characterization. Sounds like it could be fascinating, even if Delilah would be bored stiff.
[] You'll head to the signings. There're a whole bunch of C and D list celebrities there, and you can get them to sign some stuff for you! That's where Daybreak is- maybe there'll be some other wrestlers.
[] After all the talk about characterization and gear from before all that went down, you want to head to the Artist's Alley. Sure, most of them'll be terrible. But maybe you'll find something that inspires a good character.
--------- Mechanic Changes
Vote Tally : Original - Ten Pounds of Gold: A Pro Wrestling Quest | Page 19 | Sufficient Velocity ##### NetTally 1.7.5
[X] After all the talk about characterization and gear from before all that went down, you want to head to the Artist's Alley. Sure, most of them'll be terrible. But maybe you'll find something that inspires a good character. No. of Votes: 14
[X] Sal Penn, an author you're a fan of, is giving a panel on good characterization. Sounds like it could be fascinating, even if Delilah would be bored stiff. No. of Votes: 1
The inside of the Marriott is just like the inside to every other upscale hotel you've ever been in: entirely too clean and full of people who look like that they'll die if they stop smiling. But this one is different in a few ways. None of the other hotel's you've been in have had signs all over welcoming fans to the 'DMV Nerdfest Extravaganza'. None have had a fountain in the center that looks like it's dispensing Mountain Dew. And none have had guests that are quite this… colorful.
Strange outfits are nothing new to you at all- you're a wrestling fan after all. You're used to sequins and glitter, giant feather boas and the occasional chain-mail. But except for a few people you see dressed up as older wrestlers, none of that is on display here. Except the chain-mail; there's a lot more of that.
You drag Delilah out of the way before she's run over by one man in a particularly convincing costume, all plate mail with a horned helm and a yellow tabard. She won't stop gawking at all the costumes, and it's not the last time you have to save her from a pleather-and-cardboard stampede. You have to repeat the process when you pass a guy in a cardboard Megatron costume, and again when you go by a guy in what you have to admit is a really cool Iron Man suit.
Finally, as you think you're going to have to sling her over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes, she snaps out of it. She looks up at you with shining eyes. "I… love… this… place." She hisses out between clenched teeth, as if she's going to explode in joy the moment she opens her mouth.
"Can you love it from the sidelines?" you ask, rolling your eyes. "Or else you're going to be a smear on someone's costume- and wouldn't that be a shame. They've worked hard on these things."
Delilah growls at your teasing but does as you ask. She takes your hand without asking and makes sure to stick to your side as you guide her through the crowds. And though she still looks awed at any particularly well made costume, her acidic tongue returns as you go on.
"See that?" She asks, gesturing towards a man in a trenchcoat. "Know who he is?" You shrug, and she nods primly. "Exactly. See the hat? He's supposed to be The Question. All he did was throw on a trenchcoat and hat. Didn't even bother to work on the clothes beneath it or do something for a mask. Pathetic."
The man slinks away at her words. You shrug at him sheepishly. "I think he heard you-"
"He was supposed to." is her response. "If he doesn't know he sucks, then where's his motivation to do better? Sheesh, Martin, you think you'd get this by now." She stops in her tracks, mouth open. "Oh. My. God."
You follow her gaze. "Can you not 'motivate' them too?"
Delilah shakes her head. "I'm doing the world a service here." She cups her mouth with her free hand. "Hey, you! Store bought Dexter! I'd take you more seriously if the lab coat actually fit! If you're going to buy your stuff, then you should at least get the adult size, dummy!"
A ripple of laughter meets her comments as one very portly man tries hard to fade into the crowd. You groan out loud. "Can you stop encouraging her?" you ask no one in particular.
No one answers you and you sigh. Delilah pats your leg consolingly. "There, there, Martin. It'll be okay one day. I'm sure I'll be able to control myself soo- Yo! Scooby-Doo! Your costume would be way better if you bothered to do something with your ears!"
You start dragging her away. "How do you even know who Scooby-Doo is? Isn't he from way before your time?"
"Reruns are on late at night. It's fun to watch old cartoons. Ever look at the background and try and figure out how many times it repeats in one running scene? I did once and- Hey! Yugi! Nice!"
At least that one was positive. But you don't stop dragging her until you reach your destination. It takes you a very long five minutes to find the ballroom that's hosting the Artist's Alley, and the entire time Delilah won't stop calling her 'advice' at other people.
Artist's Alley doesn't look like a group of artists so much as it does a festering ball of chaos. You think you can see where booths and tables once divided up the creative types. But if there was any order it's lost to bedlam now as people swarm from table to table, gawking at art in all of it's many forms.
Delilah gapes right along with you. She looks from one table, covered with statues of Pterodactyls, to another, which is just a podium on which a man covered in body paint stands. That's not the strangest stuff you can see- or hear for the matter. A sound that can only mean that someone's selling hand carved Ocarina bellows from the back, and on a screen you can see someone's hand drawn animation.
"Why are we here again?" she asks.
You shrug. "Inspiration."
She nods as if that makes all the sense in the world. And to her, you guess it does. Delilah takes the lead and starts pulling you towards the knot of chaos. "Then let's get inspired!"
And so you do. You go from table to table, booth to booth, screaming artist to screaming artist, looking at everything the DMV Nerdfest has to offer. Some of it is amazing-
"It looks almost lifelike, doesn't it?" the guy at the digital design booth asks. You and Delilah both nod mutely as you look at what could be a real pegasus running across the screen. It's beautiful and disturbing in a way that only the fantastic coming to life can be.
And some… not so much.
"It's my stick-figure webcomic! Not at all like all the other!" The ...artist? says with a proud grin. "I wanted to use very minimal characters to not have anyone get distracted from the epic story."
You force a sickly smile onto your face and stomp on Delilah's foot before she can do anything but open her mouth. "Oh. Well-"
He doesn't stop. "It's about math, and it's about sex, and it's about dice and the triumph of evil over good when the good do nothing. You really should check it out! Only five dollars for the first-"
"Oh!" You break in. "I think I hear her mother calling!" And you run from the table as fast as you can.
"And she's saying that you suuuuuuck!" Delilah calls behind you.
And that's just the extremes. You see every kind of artist you've ever imagined in the Alley, and a few you've never thought of. You expected the painter and the cartoonists, the sketch-artists and the leather workers, but the utili-kilt guy was a surprise, and so was the musical group in the back. You've never heard of Ten Mugs of Ale before, but they're not awful. You'll have to check out their website.
After you think you've seen a little of everything, you finally manage to break out of the knot on the other side of the ballroom. Some enterprising soul has set up lawn chairs and giant bean bags, and you sink into them gratefully. You've got no idea how long you were in there, but you could use a moment off your feet.
But Delilah doesn't seem to agree. As you sit down she stays up, dancing in place. The enormous grin hasn't left her face. "So, so, so?" she asks eagerly. "See anything you like?"
You let out a huff of air as you rest. "Yeah." you finally answer. "There was a lot of stuff that was cool. But I'm don't really know how I could use it."
The kid stares at you uncomprehendingly. "Huh?"
"Like the bands, I guess make sense. It's never too early to start thinking of good entrance music. But there were a lot of just straight up painters and drawers. Don't really know how I could use them. The body-paint would be way too time consuming, and don't get me started on the sculptures. Maybe if I needed a unique weapon. And that seamstress doesn't work in spandex."
Delilah stops her dance and just looks at you for a moment. Finally her shoulders slump and she lets out another groan. "You're hopeless Martin, you know that?"
You quirk an eyebrow. "Yeah. I hear it a lot."
She doesn't pay your joke a second's attention. "Seriously. All that art and you're still thinking literally. The whole point of this is that it doesn't have to be literal. I mean sure, it could be, but it doesn't have to be."
"Like that poster, the one with the black knight on it. Take that for example. You're not going to get dressed up in full plate. That's gotta be expensive. And you're not going to be able to get a horse like that right away. But look at it. There's an attitude to it. The dude is walking away from a dead dragon looking like the baddest guy in the world. He's staring at you like you're next. Don't you think you can use that? Try and take that attitude, that overall look, and use it?"
"Or that other one? Superman being all happy? That's an attitude thing too. You're happy, you're smiling, nothing can touch you, and you're free in the air. There's nothing holding you down anymore because you're Superman. You can roll with that!"
"Maybe they weren't working for you because they were a solo thing? There was that one with the girl and her monster. You can think of a gimmick for that! Come on, Martin, you're better than that!"
Throughout her entire rant, you sit watching her with a bemused smile on your face. "You never really stop thinking about wrestling, do you?" you ask.
She scoffs at that. "Do you?"
"It's rare, but it happens." you reply. She frowns at that again, and you shake your head. "You really love it, don't you."
It's not a question, and she knows it. Her face flushes heavily. "Well- um- maybe but…"
You let her stammer for a few more moments before cutting her off. "Yeah. Me too. There's nothing quite like it."
Delilah nods enthusiastically. "Yeah. I mean… yeah." She studies you carefully. "I'm glad you still think that."
This time it's your turn to frown. "Oh?"
She kicks the rug beneath her feet. "You're in Mom's nineteenth training class. She says you're the third class of her fourth year of doing this, and you're definitely not going to be the last. I've seen students coming in and out of the house for training as long as I can remember. A lot of them are here to try and get money, but we get some fanatics like you."
"Some of them do well. Some of 'em only come to do the training to check it off their to-do list. BUt most of 'em quit."
You gape at her. People like you… quit? You wouldn't give up your place in Daybreak's school if they paid you to leave. Delilah nods at your expression. "Yeah! They say it 'ruins the magic' or some stuff. It doesn't make any sense. If Mom was willing to train me I'd be in there every day! I'd work harder than anyone! I'd set up the ring and sleep in it if I could! What kinda person gets this far and then just leaves?!"
Her voice grows more and more shrill as she rants. "I mean, if they were there for a cause like that Greenpeace guy in your class, or if they thought this'd be easy, I'd understand. I'd laugh at em, but I'd understand. But who comes here because they love it and then just quits on it?! It's not fair."
All of a sudden she realizes how loud she's gotten and quiets down. "It's not fair." she repeats, staring at the ground.
You study her with sober eyes. It doesn't take a genius to understand what's brought this on. "I… Delilah. You know why your mom won't train you, right?"
She shakes her head slowly, hair waving around her like a curtain. "It's because… it's because she cares about you. She knows that this causes a lot of pain and that the reward isn't always worth it."
You hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder but she doesn't react. "She's trying to take care of you as best she can. And she thinks you'll be much happier if you don't become a wrestler."
"She's wrong." comes the immediate response. "I won't be happy unless I can do this." She looks up from the ground, eyes shining with unshed tears. "She doesn't get it. I don't know why she doesn't get it."
You think back to the tiredness in Daybreaks eyes, the way she walks with a hitch in her step, the way she takes as few bumps as possible when showing you what to do. You know exactly why Daybreak doesn't get it- or rather, exactly why she does and wants to keep her daughter from her path. "She gets it." you finally say. "She'll explain it to you one day, in her own words."
Delilah rolls her eyes. "Why do people always say 'one day'? Couldn't they just tell me now?"
"Aahh, no." You respond, pulling yourself back out of the seat. "That'd ruin the mystery. You'll learn everything… one day."
"That's a terrible catch phrase."
"Meh. It's a work in progress. But you've got to let us old people have our fun. And keeping secrets from you until some mysterious day is like candy to us."
Delilah growls, but at least she's out of her funk. "You old people suck."
"And one day, you'll be one of us!" you say, wiggling your fingers mysteriously and pitching your voice like a ghost.
"...You're stupid, Martin."
You groan. "I'm underappreciated, that's what I am. Now come on." You grab her hand again and make your way back into the chaos. "Help me get inspired. For real this time."
"Fiiiine. Now let's do this right!"
She takes the lead once more, and hauls you back into the swarming creative people.
What art do you find yourself drawn to the most?
[] The Black Knight. It just looks badass, and you can definitely see it hanging in your home. The attitude the artist put in it practically oozes off the canvas. (+1 Brute Roll)
[] The Jacket. The leather workers have some great stuff, and the jacket they've got looks just awesome. You can see yourself wearing it, either as entrance gear or just because. (+1 Cool Roll)
[] The Gargoyle. It's an awesome looking sculpture, as cool looking as it is terrifying. You don't think you'd want to sleep with it in the same room- at least if it was facing you- but you feel goosebumps when you look at it. (+1 Crazy Roll)
[] The Webcomic. Alright, maybe you were a bit too hasty to judge. Or rather, maybe that one guy was just a bad example. There's got to be some other web cartoonists around and they can't all suck. (+1 Comedy Roll)
[] Superman. You have to admit that that's an awesome print, and you've always been a fan. You'll grab it and keep a copy with you. (+1 Wholesome Roll)
[] The Demon. Not the most wholesome piece you've seen here, you'll definitely have to hide it from Delilah. The nudity is not what you want to show someone her age. But still, it looks great, even if you can never show it to your parents. (+1 Weird Roll)
[] The Music. You really like the way 10 Mugs of Ale plays, with it's great baseline and kickass guitar. You're going to back there, pick up one of their CDs, and play it on the ride home. They always say to listen to music for inspiration after all. (+1 Cocky Roll)
Vote Tally : Original - Ten Pounds of Gold: A Pro Wrestling Quest | Page 20 | Sufficient Velocity ##### NetTally 1.7.5
[X] The Jacket. The leather workers have some great stuff, and the jacket they've got looks just awesome. You can see yourself wearing it, either as entrance gear or just because. (+1 Cool Roll) No. of Votes: 10
[X] The Music. You really like the way 10 Mugs of Ale plays, with it's great baseline and kickass guitar. You're going to back there, pick up one of their CDs, and play it on the ride home. They always say to listen to music for inspiration after all. (+1 Cocky Roll) No. of Votes: 10
[X] The Black Knight. It just looks badass, and you can definitely see it hanging in your home. The attitude the artist put in it practically oozes off the canvas. (+1 Brute Roll) No. of Votes: 2
[X] The Gargoyle. It's an awesome looking sculpture, as cool looking as it is terrifying. You don't think you'd want to sleep with it in the same room- at least if it was facing you- but you feel goosebumps when you look at it. (+1 Crazy Roll) No. of Votes: 1
After what seems like an eternity, you manage to pull yourself and Delilah out of Artist's Alley with a leather jacket over your shoulder and a bag of CD's in Delilah's hands. You have to nearly bowl over a small child to find the exit to the ballroom, and from the looks given to you as you emerge, you look like you've just come through a war.
And you feel like it. Going through Artist's Alley the first time was a simple, if confusing, thing. You let the crowds drag you like you were a branch in a river from booth to booth, never fighting the current and seeing the entire buffet of things the creative types had to offer. But then you had to find things you specifically wanted to see.
How could you possibly get so lost in one room?!
But that's over now. You're free. You stand outside of Artist's Alley, hands on your thighs, bent over and panting. Delilah stands at your side in the same position, her breaths ragged and gasping. "Holy… fuck…" she breathes out.
You manage the energy to shoot her a glare. "Do not let your mother know you know that word."
She waves you off as she catches her breath. "I'll just… tell her… you taught it to me."
...you can't let that stand. You scoop her into a side headlock and grind your knuckles into her scalp. "What was that?" you ask as if you aren't giving her the mother of all noogies. "I swear I heard a threat there. And if that was a threat, then I'll have to do this every time I see you from now on!"
She slaps your back frantically, flailing for freedom. But your grip is as tight as you can make it without hurting her, and that's pretty damn tight. She has no choice but to tap, slapping her submission on your bicep. "Come on, Martin!" she squeals. "You smell like bodypaint!"
You let her go instantly. You thought you'd dodged the group giving out 'free-samples', but they must have moved faster than you saw. Sure enough, there's a stripe of green across her face that wasn't there before. You'd apologize, but honestly, it's hilarious. You tell her as much and get your first glimpse of Delilah pouting.
"You suck." she groans out.
You shrug as you check your phone. "Yeah, yeah. Nothing I haven't heard before. Come on, it's almost eight. Let's go get your Mom."
The two of you trudge off towards another ballroom with Delilah using you as a human shield to get through the hordes of people. The crowds are starting to thin, at least. You don't get knocked around nearly as much this time. The only real interruptions you have are from other people dressed up in High Society jumpsuits who take pictures of themselves with Delilah. You manage to snag a copy of one; Daybreak'll appreciate it.
Outside of the signing hall, the crowds are especially sparse, with barely any lines left. You'd guess that anyone who really wanted a signing from Daybreak, or- you look at the list of Attendees- Kevin Sorbo would have gotten there early. And- Wait, Kevin Sorbo? Really? You loved Hercules. But he's already gone.
Daybreak is one of the only people to still have anyone in front of her table. Most of the 'celebrities' have a book out, are playing on their phone, or are chatting with staff. But your teacher still has a small cluster of three or four people in front of her, listening to her every word with breathless captivation. You hold back a snort; they wouldn't be that worshipful if she'd made them run the ropes for seven hour straight.
You don't want to interrupt so you take a seat of to the side and relax for a moment. Maybe there's someone else here you want to meet…? No, no one exciting. Delilah spies some anime guy she wants to sign something, so you let her trot off. It's only a few yards away; no reason for you to get on your feet again for that. The kid heads over to meet the bearded old man and the two strike up a lively conversation. Something about owls. It's over your head.
Your attention wanders soon after and you take to scanning the room while keeping the kid in the corner of your eye. The place is practically deserted compared to Artist's Alley. Without the crowds of people, the thing that draws your eyes the most are the banners behind each person. Most are fairly formulaic; the person's name, what they're famous for, how long they're here. The convention probably printed them up.
But there are a few exceptions; banners and posters clearly made by the people themselves. There's one made of solid sheet metal with words cut out behind some scriptwriter, and an enormous poster festooned with dragons behind a game designer. And then of course, there's Daybreak's board, printed in bright colors with your teacher's snarling face in full makeup and paint on the front. 'Wrestling Legend' is burned on the front- literally. It looks like someone took one of those little torches they use for woodburning art and blasted the words over the poster. It's unique, you'll give her that.
Wondering what kind of heat would be needed to burn letters into wood and paper without actually igniting the wood and paper like that keeps you occupied for the time it takes for Delilah to wrap up her conversation and for Daybreak to get rid of her admirers. As the last one of her followers leaves, clutching a signed eight by ten to his chest, she scans the room. Her eyes latch onto you and the kid and something that might be a smile crosses over her face. You breathe out a sigh of relief. Good, she's had a good day. Maybe she'll be less likely to haze you on the way back-
"Hey, Martin! Carry my board!"
You don't bother to hold back your groan. It's what she wants after all, and it'd be a shame to disappoint. You pull yourself to your feet and move towards the enormous piece of plywood and paper. It takes some finagling to get the right kind of grip on it, but you manage it, even if you have to hold it directly in front of you. You can barely see passed the thing as you walk. Luckily no one wants to run into such a big piece of wood, so you don't hit anyone as the three of you walk to the van.
"So how was your con?" Daybreak asks the kid as you walk. From her voice, you think she's in front of and slightly to the left of you.
"It was great!" Delilah replies, entirely too perky for you right now. "We went and got ice cream and then we came in and I got to yell at the cosplayers! I think I made a few cry!"
You can hear the indulgent smile in Daybreak's voice. "We've talked about that kiddo. You shouldn't go out of your way to insult people."
"But Moooom!" she whines. "They weren't people! They were cosplayers!" Clearly there's some fundamental difference between the two groups that you're just not getting. "They weren't doing it right!"
Daybreak's slow headshake is almost audible. "Well, as long as there was no real trouble."
"Uh-uh! And after that we went to see the Artists and Martin got these CDs and that Jacket and he didn't get the really cool gargoyle! I think he just didn't want to carry it! And I got to meet more of the High Society and we got some cool pictures and it was awesome."
"Yo." you call. "In the bag she's got, there's a copy for you." There's some rustling of plastic as Daybreak pulls out the best of the snaps that Delilah was in today, in the middle of six more people of ranging ages, all dressed in the bright blue jumpsuit with different colored shoulder pads.
There's a pat on your shoulder. "Thanks! This is going right on the fridge!"
"Moooom…" Though she's trying to hide it, the undercurrent of pride in Delilah's voice rings loud and clear to you, even if you can't see the pleased flush on her face. From Daybreak's chuckle, you know it's there.
"It'll go well with the one of you in the school play. Has she told you about that one Martin?" She asks as she hold the door open. You inch through the gateway into the fresh air, careful not to let the board slip from your hands. "It was soooo cute!"
"No!" There's real panic in Delilah's voice. "You promised you wouldn't bring that up!"
"Bring it up to your little friends, maybe!" Daybreak replies, the manic joy of a parent embarrassing the holy hell out of their child in her voice. "But Martin's one of my students, not one of your buddies! So telling him all about how you were-"
She cuts off in mid sentence. For a second you think Delilah's done something to stop her from talking, but then the board brushes against her back in front of you. Daybreak's frozen in front of you. You stop too. "What's-"
"Quiet." Daybreak hisses. Mom Daybreak is gone; only Hardass Daybreak is left in that voice. "What'd you do?"
"Huh?" you grunt out. You begin to set the board down so you can see what's going on, but Daybreak's next words stop you.
"There's a cop behind the van. What did you do? Quick!"
Your blood runs cold. Fucking damn it. It was too much to hope that the assholes weren't in good enough shape to recognize you were in a van, or that someone else gave them a description of it.
No sense hiding it now. "Assholes at Friendly's." you reply, voice equally low. "Beat the hell out of the guy, woman knocked herself out trying to bumrush me. The kid might've kicked them a few times too."
"You said we wouldn't-"
"Not now!" Daybreak interrupts Delilah's protest. And then you feel her attitude change. "Excuse me?" she calls out, voice light as a feather, completely at odds with the cold and anger you were feeling just a minute ago. "Officer? Is there something I can help you with?"
You hear a new voice. "Good evening ma'am. Is this your minivan?"
"Yes sir it is!" She replies, a note of confusion in her voice. If you didn't know better, you'd think it was completely genuine. "Is… is something wrong?"
The cop doesn't explain himself, but you hear footsteps coming closer to you. "And how long has it been parked here?"
Daybreak hmms for a moment or two, obviously thinking. A cold sweat trickles down your spine. You do not want to spend a night in the holding cell. Or worse, have charges pressed. Those fuckers struck you as the kind of people to press charges. You'd have to call your parents, ask them to bail you out, ask them for money for a lawyer… you could kiss your wrestling career goodbye before it even starts and-"
"Since about two, officer."
You freeze, too relieved and too scared to even breathe. Daybreak's covering for you. But you're not out of the woods yet, not by a longshot. "Is there anyone who can verify that?" the cop asks.
"I'm not really sure." Daybreak responds. "I don't know who's been watching my van. But I've been inside all day. You can ask the staff- they helped me set up my booth around then. I've been inside since." All technically true.
The cop is quiet for a long time. "Wait…" he finally says. "I know you! Dawnbreak, right?"
Thank fucking god. Daybreak corrects him and you can practically hear the glinting of her teeth as she gives off her 'dealing-with-fans' smile. "Daybreak, actually."
"Oh, darn. I'm sorry Miss, I-"
"No, no." Daybreak soothes him. "It's an easy mistake. I can't count the number of times it's happened."
"No, I sure am sorry ma'am. It's no excuse. I grew up on WPW! I swear, I still remember that match you had against Coltrane in the finals! It was all we could talk about for days after!"
The two of them talk for a few more minutes, all pleasantries and reminiscences. Daybreak signs something for him, and the cop turns to get on his way. "Oh, right!" he says, as if he's suddenly remembered why he was here. "If you're on the road, keep an eye out. It's dangerous around here lately."
"Oh?" Daybreak replies. "What's going on?"
"Sad business," the cop answers. "Some lowlife attacked a married couple over at the Friendly's a couple blocks away, right in front of their kids."
"Oh my." You can't see Daybreak putting her hand to her mouth as if she was horrified, but you can imagine it quite well. "I'll certainly keep an eye out!"
The cop laughs. "You won't mistake this guy for anything other than a hooligan. We're having trouble getting details out of them- apparently he attacked them from behind, and of course the kids are near traumatized. We're trying to get a composite sketch done, but from the victim's description, we're looking for a guy that's about seven feet tall, covered in scars."
The cop finally gets back in his car with one more goodbye and drives off with a brief 'woop' of his siren. The three of you stand in complete silence until you're sure he's gone and not coming back. Finally, Daybreak wordlessly opens the van and you slide the board in the back. As you straighten, you look at yourself in the rearview for a split second. The fuck were they talking about? You don't have scars.
With the board safely stowed, the three of you get in the van. No one says a word and you sit in silence as the clock ticks away on the dash. The only sound you hear is the deep breathing coming from the passenger's side. You chance a glance over at your teacher to see her sitting there, glaring straight ahead, nostrils flaring. Your eyes snap forward again, too nervous to look back.
Eventually she seems to have some semblance of control. In a tone as cold as frozen air, she growls, "Explain."
And so you do. "It was at lunch." You start. "It was… it was a stupid thing. There were some brats throwing a tantrum in the middle of the diner. The kid tried to get them to stop, and one of the parents had a problem with it. Grabbed her. I took issue with that."
Delilah sits quietly behind you, and you can see her rubbing her wrist at the memory in the mirror. You know Daybreak sees it too- her breath freezes again. She turns to look at the kid. "Show me your arm." she says.
Reluctantly, Delilah peels back her sleeve, revealing the place the woman had grabbed her. A light bruise has formed in the shape of a hand around her wrist. Daybreak snarls and then stops, as if she was doing it accidentally.
You continue your explanation. "I tried to make them back down, but the man wasn't hearing it. We took it outside. I beat him, his wife tried to hit me from behind. Delilah kicked them a few times, but we got out as soon as we could."
Once more, silence takes over the minivan. But it's a different kind of silence, a thoughtful kind. Daybreak doesn't seem to be fuming with rage anymore. It's broken by Delilah this time. The kid speaks up in a watery voice. "Please don't be mad at Martin." she pleads. "It was my fault."
Daybreak looks at her daughter and then down at the floor. You can't see her face and her body language is a closed book to you. What's she thinking?
When she looks back up, it's with a weary smile on your face. "How am I supposed to be mad at you after that?! It's not fair!" She asks, leaning back in the seat. "Alright, I'm not mad anymore. And neither of you is going to get in trouble- except maybe for not telling me right away. I'd probably have done worse. Much worse." From the low, hungry tone in her voice, there's no doubt of that.
Slowly, you let yourself breathe again.
Daybreak pats you on the shoulder. "Seriously, Martin. Good job. But how could they think you're seven foot and covered in scars?! You… you…"
"Yes, I know." You groan out. "I look like an innocent suburban boy who's never been in a fight in his life."
"You said it, not me!" Daybreak replies, something like her former cheer back in her voice. "Now start this thing up and let's get moving."
"Home?" Delilah asks hopefully.
"Nah." Daybreak replies. "I want to stop for some food first. Signing paper is hungry work."
You nod agreeably as you coax the minivan to life. "Alright. Any place special in mind, boss?"
Daybreak's smile is sharklike. "I'm thinking I want ice cream."
...oh.
***
You really hope that Daybreak wants to go back to Friendly's to help your story. Maybe further muddy the trail if possible. After all, if you did it, why would you go back to Friendly's the same day? Do you like mediocre burgers and ice cream that much?
If not that, you really hope she's going back to doublecheck your story. Make sure you and Delilah didn't concoct some elaborate lie to cover up something that you really did wrong. You could deal with that; after all, Delilah's involved, and Daybreak's nothing if not invested in her kid's life. And the facts would wind up on your side.
But you know why Daybreak wants ice cream all of a sudden. She believes you all right, and hopes those assholes are idiots enough to come back the same day to cash in whatever vouchers they got from the flustered staff. You weren't nearly harsh enough with them for Daybreak's tastes, and your teacher wants her own pound of flesh.
Luckily for you- and for them- the Friendly's is nearly deserted. Only one table is still occupied with some college students playing a round of some card game. Still, the three of you grab a booth and order your drinks. Daybreak still seems a little jumpy, and her head snaps around at every footstep in a way you can only describe as predatory. But she's talking freely and hasn't started fuming again, so you're fairly sure you're out of the woods on this one.
The door opens and closes again, and Daybreak cranes her neck to see who's come in. Whoever it is isn't her target and she turns her attention back to the table. "So," she asks, drumming her fingers on the table. "Get anything good at the con?"
Delilah pauses then shakes her head. "No." she mutters, disappointed. "It was all too 'spensive."
Daybreak clucks her tongue at that even as she surveys the diner again. "That's why I told you to save up. You'll never be able to get any of the cool stuff if you keep spending all your money on that game."
The kid puffs up at that. "It's not a game! It's a series of virtual collectables that can be-"
"Yep. A game." Daybreak repeats. She glances over at you. "You?"
You shrug. "A few things. Got some CDs in the car that sound nice. And…" you gesture down at yourself, at the new jacket that's draped over your body. "It's not the best made thing, but it looks cool, and I like the way it feels."
Your teacher inspects it carefully. "Yeah. You're not going to get anything that lasts long at a low rent con like this. If you like the look you'd better take pictures of it while it's new so someone else can remake it after it falls apart." You nod, and Daybreak resumes her scan of the diner.
She keeps looking until your drinks come, brought by a different waitress then the one that took your order. "Evening, all!" She greets you all, voice tired but polite. "My name's Helen and I'll be taking care of you this evening. Do you already have an idea what you want, or-"
The waitress looks from Daybreak to you and stops in the middle of her patter. You glance up from the menu to meet the wide, blue eyes of the waitress who shooed you out of the parking lot that afternoon. You muster up a small wave. "Hey again." You awkwardly mumble. "Good to see you again."
She stays still for a moment, taken aback. "Umm.." she finally musters up. "Can I… can I take your order?"
Daybreak can't hold in her laugh. "I take it you two've met?" she asks through her chuckles.
"Yeah." you reply, still watching the waitress warily in case she decides to change her mind and call the cops. "Helen was a big help earlier. She was the one that warned us when the cops were on their way."
"Well in that case, it's nice to meet you Helen." Daybreak says, offering a hand. Helen shakes it warily. "You helped my friend and my daughter out of a sticky situation earlier. Thank you so much for that."
"Ummm…. No problem. But, uh, can I get you anything?" Helen repeats, looking like a deer in the headlights. You decide to spare her some more awkwardness and place your order, with Delilah and Daybreak following suit soon after. Helen practically flees your table.
You look back to your teacher. "What do you want to be that she decides to let someone else take care of us from now on?"
Daybreak is looking after her with a wide, toothy grin on her face. "I doubt it."
You raise a questioning eyebrow but she refuses to say anymore as she goes back to looking at the rest of the diner. You shake your head. What does she mean by that?
But she's right. Fifteen minutes later, Helen returns with a tray laden with food, and she seems much more relaxed. "Here you go!" She says. The tiredness seems gone from her voice, replaced by even more of a chipper attitude. "Is there anything else I can get you?"
Daybreak and Delilah both decline, and you shake your head, offering a smile. "No thanks."
Helen doesn't leave though. She stands next to your table for a good few seconds before speaking again. "Oh, and by the way. Sorry about freezing there." she says. "I just really wasn't expecting to see you back here again. And so soon!"
"Don't worry about it," you reply. "I didn't think I'd be back here either."
Before Helen can excuse herself, Daybreak cuts in. "Sorry to bother you, but I'm missing a bit of context. Tommy and Delilah told me what happened here, but I think I'm still foggy on some specifics. Could you…?"
You would say it's not necessary, that you'd fill Daybreak in, but you're too busy gawking at your mentor. Did… did she just call you by your first name?!
Helen doesn't seem taken aback by the question though. She recounts what happened, collaborating your own story and filling in a few things you didn't know. The dicks were apparently named the Wilkinsons, and they had been a problem in the diner for months; the scene Delilah had interrupted was a tame one by their standards.
After you had burned rubber, the cops had arrived and the Wilkinsons had insisted on an ambulance being called for them. The bruises you gave Mr. Wilkinson and the scrapes from when Mrs. Wilkinson had missed her charge had been life threatening to hear them tell it. As their 'wound's had been being treated, they had told the cops their story at the top of their lungs.
"You'll be pleased to know," Helen says with a wry smile, "That you're seven men who jumped them from behind. After some other out-of-towner said he only saw one guy, you became nine feet tall."
You can't help but laugh at that. "Any idea where the 'covered in scars' bit came from?"
"The bikers were, of course, heavily tattooed. But since no one else saw the ink, they had to think of something they could mistake for tattoos. God knows how their minds work."
As for the cops themselves, they didn't seem to be looking too hard for the mysterious scarred gentleman. They had been called to the Wilkinson's dozens of times for noise complaints, and then to their neighbors after they retaliated with complaints of their own. All in all, what Helen tells you makes you feel a bit better about beating the fuck out of Mr. Wilkinson.
Helen finishes up her retelling and gets on her way, letting you dig into your food for the first time. The three of you eat in relative silence with only the bare minimum of small talk passing between you. But you're not alone for long. Helen returns within a few minutes, just checking on you. And then again a few minutes later.
You look up from your burger to see Daybreak watching you with laughing eyes. "What?" you ask.
"I think she liiiiikes you." Daybreak murmurs, voice barely carrying across the table.
You can't help but chuckle. Daybreak must be feeling better if she's teasing you like this. "Nah. She's just bored. Not many people to take care of right now."
"Bored? In this day and age? Please. She's got a phone with two hundred games loaded on it. If she was bored she'd deal with it. But she keeps coming back to check on you."
Again, you shake your head. Daybreak couldn't be more far off. "You're insane, boss. You've got to know that, right?"
Daybreak glances up over your head towards where you hear Helen's footsteps coming your way again. "Ask for a refill in a sec." She orders. You look at your drink- it's near full.
"How're you all doing?" She asks, glancing down at you all. It must be your imagination, but you think you see her eyes linger on you for a moment. Nah. Daybreak's just putting thoughts in your head.
Your teacher beckons her over. "I just had a quick question about your ice cream. Do you have every single flavor that's on the menu? I think I want-"
She kicks your leg, and you jump reflexively. As Helen's eyes land on you, you smile politely. "Sorry to interrupt, but can I get a refill?" you ask.
Helen doesn't bat an eye. "Of course!" She says, and grabs your glass. She's off to refill it immediately without another word about Daybreak's question. Helen's back moments later with a fresh glass. She places it down in front of you and smiles, putting a hand on your shoulder. "You let me know if you need anything else!"
...that proves nothing.
But over the course of the meal, you can't help but notice a few things. The way Helen seems to be directing most of her questions towards you. How she keeps playing with her dark hair when you're looking at her. That every once in awhile, she touches you, whether it be an accidental brush as she's clearing plates or placing a hand on your shoulder when she laughs.
...this still proves nothing.
Finally, you're done your meal. You pay with the last of your cash, and Helen hands you the receipt with a big smile, pressing it into your hands. "Thanks again for coming in!" She says, bright smile on her face. "I hope to see you again real soon!" You nod awkwardly and say goodbye, making sure to leave a solid tip. She really was a good waitress.
Daybreak is whistling as you leave; you don't know why. The Wilkinsons never showed up, and it was a long shot that they'd be here at all. So why does she look so happy?
You find out when you get to the van. "Have you looked at that?" she asks, gesturing at the receipt in your hand.
"Just glanced at it for the total."
"You might want to look again." Daybreak replies. "If I'm right, then you're missing something important."
You shrug and glance down. Everything seems in order. Everything's totalled up correctly, though it looks like she gave you an employee discount. Nice of her. Probably to make up for the trouble earlier. You hope she doesn't get in trouble. There's the note that all waitresses seem to leave, thank you, come again, it-
Wait. Most notes don't have the waitress' name, a little heart, and a phone number written on them.
...okay. Maybe Daybreak has a point.
From your expression, Daybreak knows what you've found. Her peels of laughter echo through the van until well after you've gotten on the road. The rest of the trip back is made up of her and Delilah taking turns teasing you until Delilah gets tired and falls asleep. Then Daybreak just redoubles her efforts and stops making sure everything is censored. Your cheeks are burning by the time you pull the van into Daybreak's house.
"Have a good night, loverboy!" Daybreak calls as you start jogging back to the motel. "Just make sure to get some sleep in between staring at your phone! You don't want to be tired for tomorrow's lessons!"
Between your haste to get as far away from Daybreak as you can and your twitchy legs from driving for two hours, you make it back to the motel in record time. Your mind as just as hyperactive as your legs are- you've had a long day.
As the motel comes into view you catch a glimpse of two figures leaning on the railing on the second floor, one small and one muscular. Allie and Jack. Thank god. You could definitely use something normal right now.
The three of you wind up in your room. You collapse on the bed back first with a huff. "You would not believe the day I've had." you say.
Allie snorts. "Yeah. Like you're the one who had the craziest day."
You glance up at them both and notice that they looked as wiped as you feel. "What happened?"
Both of them start to talk at once and stop, realizing the other is talking. Finally Allie gestures to go ahead, and Jack takes the lead. "I got dragged into the ring by some guy in a beetle gimmick, made a few bucks working the merch tables, and somehow managed to piss off the state of Florida."
Allie chimes in, "That's nothing. My guy got double-booked, I couldn't pick out a good design, some yuppie tried to hit on me, and long story short, I maaay have left a man chained to a hotel bed."
You groan and rub your temples. "I beat up some terrible parents, got harassed by webcomic artists, almost got arrested, and I think Daybreak was my wingman with a waitress."
There's a moment of silence in your hotel room as all of you digest what you've just said. As one, all of you reach into your cooler and pop a beer. "This conversation," Allie intones, "Needs booze."
With the terrible alcohol loosening your tongue, you hear what all of them got up to in greater detail. Jack's wrestling show was terrible, but he got a better idea of what goes on in the indies then before and made some cash hawking T-Shirts of Connor of Dartmouth, Time Traveling rich man. He's surprisingly mute on the Florida thing- you think it involved the mascot of Miami Dolphins. And the guy who took Allie's spot at the tattoo parlor decided he wanted to impress her by getting the biggest ink the artist could do, not seeming to realize that he'd eat up all of the evening getting the outline done. Moron.
But it's your story that they seem to focus on. They laugh at the Wilkinsons, make all the right noises of appreciation at your jacket, and are gobsmacked at the way you describe Daybreak acting. But it's the waitress that seems to grab Jack's attention.
"Was she hot?" he asks after a sip.
You shrug. You hadn't really noticed; you were too busy hoping she wasn't going to get you arrested at first, and after that you were too distracted trying to prove Daybreak wrong. But when you think about it, she was cute. Tall and a bit lanky, but her smile was nice and she looked like she took good care of herself. "She wasn't bad." you finally reply. What's the right way to even answer that?
Allie seems to have a difference question. "Are you going to call her?" she asks, voice casual.
Well. Are you?
[] Yeah, in a couple days. You're no stranger to a good night out, and it's been way too long since you had one. Helen seems like she could be fun outside of a diner. You'll try and set something up for next Sunday. (Gain Trait: ???)
[] Yeah, eventually. You haven't really gone on many dates before; your last relationship ended spectacularly and it made you a bit gunshy. But you'll muster up the nerve, and you're sure it'll be fun. (Gain Trait: ???)
[] No. You're in no position to go out on dates. You've got training to do, and you've got a career to plan out. This is no real time for distractions. (Gain Trait: ???)
[] No, you're not really interested. Helen seems nice, but she seems conventionally nice. You're not really into conventional- any girl you go out with has got to have something that sets them apart. (Gain Trait: ???)
[] No, you're really not interested in relationships or dating of any kind. (Gain Trait: Asexual)
[] Write-In (Results Vary)
The three of you talk late into the night, finally crashing in your room when you realize exactly what time it is. It's not nearly enough rest for you though; the next morning you drag yourself from your bed and jog to Daybreak's with bleary eyes and a stumble in your step.
Your teacher has no mercy for you. It's like she knew this was coming and so decided to make today as hellish as possible. Ropes, face bumps, the Gauntlet, every single mundane exercise she's ever put you through makes a comeback. But it does it's job, you suppose; by the lunch break you ache too much to be sleepy.
But the lack of spring in your step is obvious to you, obvious to Daybreak, and even obvious to your other classmates. During lunch, while Jack's picking up your food, Chloe drops down next to you. Strange- the two of you have never really talked much. Chloe's a strong member of the Bar Crew and you're never seen without the rest of the Training Trio as you've heard Daybreak mockingly call you.
She gives you a commiserating smile. "Late night?"
You start to deny it but only a yawn comes out. Alright, you can still feel a little bit of tiredness. "Yeah," you admit with a shrug. "Busy day off." Allie hmms in agreement. She's still bitter about her lack of new ink.
Chloe nods as she stretches out a kink in her back. "Yeah, I know how that goes." she replies. "Just remember, don't overdo the caffeine. I made that mistake before and damn if I don't regret it."
"Oh?" Allie chimes in. "Sounds like there's a story there."
The redhead lets out a rueful chuckle. "Yeah, not much of one. I just lost my mind on some guy who wouldn't stop asking the stupidest questions when I was hopped up on eight cups of coffee and chasing it with soda. I might've done so anyway- who asks when deer turn into moose anyway?! But I probably wouldn't have gone as far as I did then."
"Got a write up, a day off without pay, and a rep as the person you don't ask stupid questions of." Chloe shrugs, a look amusement on her flat features. "It worked out alright in the end I think."
Jack makes a noise of agreement as he shows up with the your food. "Sounds like a good deal to me." he says around a yawn of his own.
Chloe's eyes dart from you, to Jack, to Allie, who's laying on the floor with her eyes closed. "Sounds like you all had a late night." She says slowly.
"Yep," Allie says without opening her eyes. "We were in the middle of some shit and lost track of time."
"Oh." Is all Chloe says. She looks at each of you again and nods slowly, as if realizing something. "Well, I'll let you all rest. Later!" Before you can respond at all she's up and moving towards her friends. You watch her go, confusion writ large on her face. What was that all about?
Luckily Chloe's weirdness and your exhaustion alike are both forgotten after lunch, because Daybreak has something new planned for you. You watch with eager eyes and a growing grin as Brad goes into a large closet and pulls out an enormous crash pad, because that can only mean one thing.
Daybreak proves your right as after she helps pull it into the ring, she drops a training dummy down onto the mat, exactly three steps away from the corner. "Alright you fucks," she says. "I know some of you are morons and have been looking forward to this, but I just want to say this one more time; don't do anything too stupid."
"Now get in here and let's throw you off to the top."
You all get into the ring and watch as first Brad, and then Daybreak show you the absolute simplest thing to do off the the top rope: fall. First she does it like a basic back bump; it doesn't look any different than a normal bump only from a higher starting point. After she's satisfied that you've seen it demonstrated enough, she starts putting you all through it.
It doesn't feel that much different than a normal back bump either. Sure, there's more impact, and you're also landing on a crash pad, but with proper technique you think it'll only be a little harder than your normal falls into the ring.
Not everyone takes to it with the ease you do though. Naomi's never been the crispest bumper, so that's just magnified off the top rope. And after getting the basics down, Nick swears he's not going up there again. "I'll do just fine with both feet on the mat." he says, voice daring anyone to say any different.
Daybreak just nods and agrees with him though. "I never liked going up there myself." She says. "You need to get basic bumping down, but after that you don't need to go up there if you don't want to. No shame in that."
For the rest of you, she moves on to splashes and sentons- splashes that land on your back. Again, you have very little trouble with that. The hardest part of the splashes is that you can see the mat rushing up at you and it brings back memories of that awful dream about falling off a cliff that everyone seems to have.
More people decide to join Nick watching tape at that point. Jack's one of them. He shakes his head at your questioning look. "I know when I don't have the touch for something. I'll stick with mat wrestling and submissions." You shrug. His loss.
Soon it's only you, Allie, and Caleb doing more than just bumps. You and Caleb are both working hard at it, trying your best to get this down, but to Allie it all looks utterly effortless. Whereas you have to think about every move your body makes, she takes every new thing Brad shows you and incorporates it without breaking a sweat. When you're still practicing splashes, she's moved on to flips and aerials off the top.
You're not one to give up though. You keep working at it through the day, through your extra training, and then again the next day. Over and over again, you devote time to the fine art of falling from high places.
A few days later, you think you've finally got a somewhat passable top-rope splash. You leap high into the air and come plummeting down to earth, arms in perfect position to brace you as you fall. You land with a crash and bounce slightly. But you pop to your feet with a broad smile on your face. Fucking got it.
No one else cheers you. Strange. Sure, it's after normal training, but normally Jack, Allie, or Daybreak would all be making some kind of noise, or maybe Delilah, who still sneaks in when her mom isn't here. But no. Jack's studying a Samwell Hampton vs. 'Tenacious' Tony DuPree match, so that explains his absence. But what about the girls?
You spot them at ringside. Allie and Daybreak are in the middle of some kind of heated conversation. Your teacher shakes her head almost violently as you watch. "No. Out of the question."
"Come on, Boss!" Allie pleads. "It's nothing I haven't done before! It's just with rope instead of a mat!"
"I don't care how many flips you can do, Princess, that's a surefire way towards a broken neck. Snap your bones on your own time. You won't be doing it here."
Allie looks like she's about to pull her near-nonexistent hair from her head in frustration. "Twenty Three placements at the state level. Second place at nationals. Come on, Daybreak, you know I'm not some green rookie at this! Just let me try it!"
"It doesn't matter how many medals or rankings you've got! You need to listen to me here; springboards are a completely different animal from the basic dives I've got you all doing now."
Ah. That explains that. Springboard moves have been something that Allie's been studying closely in all of your tape-watching sessions. It makes sense; she's definitely the best flyer out of all of you, so the next step would be jumping from the ropes themselves instead of just the turnbuckles. But Daybreak's probably right to be cautious- you remember one noteworthy botch you saw that had a guy bounce from the ropes, over rotate, and wind up driving himself head first into the mat.
Finally, Allie seems to win the argument. "Daybreak, look, I'm going to level with you here. I'm going to wind up doing this sooner or later, and I think it'd be best if I do it here in a ring I'm familiar with, instead of trying it out in some guy's backyard. I'll respect your wishes if you say no, but I'd really appreciate the head start."
Daybreak has no answer for that. She sputters for a moment and finally throws her hands in the air. "Fine!" she spits. "Shatter your spine two months into training. Why not!"
"Thanks!" Allie replies. Before Daybreak can say another word, Allie hops up onto the ring apron. "Tommy! Move the dummy a little left, will you?"
You obliged, and head over to the other side of the ring to watch. Allie stares at the dummy, concentration writ large on her face, and pulls the ropes back a few times as if testing their bounce. She hops, once, twice in place and then leaps-
Into the most picture perfect springboard splash you've ever seen. Her feet hit the rope perfectly and she bounces high into the air, so high she almost hits the ceiling, rotating one hundred and eighty degrees in mid flight. Allie impacts the dummy with a cry of victory.
Your teacher groans. "Now she's going to be impossible to- Hey!"
That last is directed at you, but you barely notice it. You're on the opposite apron, in the same position. You've gotta get yourself some of that! You pull, jump, and-
Land on your feet. You hit the ropes, but as you bounce off of them you don't balance properly. You don't rotate at all, instead just doing a high hop.
Daybreak throws up her hands. "Idiots." she growls. "You're all idiots." Without another word she turns and stalks back up the stairs and out of the basement.
Allie's practically glowing. "That. Was. So. Fucking. Metal!" she growls. "I gotta do that again!" True to her word, she goes back through the ropes for another go. You watch her contemplatively.
Your first try wasn't as good as hers, but you could ask her for help, if this is something you really want to do. And if you really want to risk it.
What do you do?
[] Ask Allie for help. You want to fly, and getting springboard moves down as quick as you can would be huge for that. (DC40 Aerial Check. On pass, +3 Aerial Training Rolls, springboard moves unlocked. On failure, +1 Aerial Training Roll, springboard moves remain locked, DC60 Toughness Check to avoid injury)
[] Stick with your own practicing. Allie may be ready for springboards, but you don't have her years of gymnastics training to fall back on. You'll stick with the top rope. (+2 Aerial Training Rolls)
[] You think you need more work on your mat game before you spend any more time in the air. Spend some time studying tape with Jack and working on the basics. The top rope will still be here later. (+1 Safety Training Roll, +1 Basics Training Roll, +1 Chain Wrestling Training Roll, 'Aerial Enthusiast' downgraded to 'Aerial Admirer')
--------- Mechanic Changes
Traits Gained!
Exotic Tastes and High Standards: In work, in love, in play, in life, Tommy has high standards and exotic tastes. He will not settle for the mundane or the everyday. He looks for exotic partners, likes strange and interesting meals, and studies obscure moves and styles.
