Hmm. Maybe '@Wildcard'? You type it in quickly to the handle box to check. Nope. Taken. You'd expected that honestly, but it was worth a shot. Maybe it'll work if you replace some letters with numbers- but no. You can't bring yourself to type like that. You have standards after all.
Facebook had been so much easier to do. As it turns out, there's nothing stopping anyone from setting up one of those pages for businesses or famous people. A few presses on your phone and you were set. The blog hadn't been any harder. And the email address- a simple 'bookTommyWild' had taken you ninety seconds. But Twitter… Twitter's fighting you.
You don't want to use your real name. That just strikes you as so plain and so boring. But if Wildcard is taken, what about JokersWild? No, no. Then that'd be the Twitter for all three of you. You need something just for you this time.
Honestly, you're glad you're having this problem. If you didn't have something to distract you right now you'd probably have found a way to pass out from boredom right there at your job.
When you applied to UR Storage, you had thought that there wouldn't be much to the job. Most of it seemed to involve sitting in a comfortable swivel chair in the front and greeting people who walked in. Maybe you'd have to do some sweeping every now and then; maybe call some people who were behind on payments for their boxes.
As it turns out, you were right- there isn't much to this job. But there's not even as much busy work as you thought there'd be. You had to do some paperwork. One person came in early and Charley walked you through how to open a box. Besides that, nothing. No phone calls; as it turns out, Archie has those automated. Something about people who kept hanging up on his callers and thinking that if they didn't hear the late notice, they didn't have to pay. There isn't even much sweeping; Archie likes roombas.
You can't even really talk to anyone. Besides showing you the basics, Charley's been quiet for the entire six hours you've been together. She's got a different textbook open and she's scratching something in tight, cramped letters on a piece of looseleaf. As for the boss himself, he's gone home. He works the eight to eight shift by himself; he needs to catch his sleep when he can.
Which leaves you with your phone and nothing to do but work on your online footprint. You should ask if you can bring in a laptop or something once you have one. At least that way you can watch some tape instead of just fucking around.
The bell on the door rings, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Charley's head snap up like a hunting dog. You follow her gaze to see a man, hair gray and back stooped with age, walk into the lobby. He takes a second to tap the snow from his shoes before he makes his way to the front desk. You open your mouth to greet him-
But Charley cuts you off. "Hey, Lloyd." She says lazily, green eyes for once not locked on her textbook. "That time of the month already?"
Lloyd chuckles. "Yes, my dear, though I truly do wish you had some other way of phrasing it. If I've told you once, I've told you a dozen times that even the appearance of sounding inappropriate is something that must be avoided."
A corner of Charley's mouth quirks up. "But then we wouldn't be able to have this scintillating exchange every month. And wouldn't that be a shame?"
The older man just laughs again and Charley glances at you. "Lloyd, this is Tommy. He's the new help around here. Tommy, Lloyd. He's one of the regulars you'll get used to seeing every now and then."
The two of you greet each other and Charley shows you how to properly take a payment and enter it into the system. When he's all paid up, Lloyd departs with another wave and another joking reminder of the importance of propriety. The door bangs shut behind him and you turn to look at Charley. "He's not going to inspect is box?"
That's just common sense to you. If you're paying people to keep something stored away safely, you make sure it's stored away safely. But Charley waves away your concerns. "Maybe some people, but not Lloyd. He doesn't ever really plan to get that stuff out of the box again, so what's the point? Besides. The regulars come here because they know Archie takes good care of anything they leave with him."
"Wait," you say, processing what she's just told you. "He's not getting the stuff he leaves with us? Why?'
Charley shrugs. "He's never said. But it's a lot of old furniture, and he's in an old folks home. He probably couldn't bring it with him and he can't handle just throwing it away. So he leaves it here and pays for the space."
"So… so if he doesn't plan on getting the stuff again, what'll happen to it?"
"Eventually he'll stop making payments on it. Either because his guardian will cut off the cash flow or he just won't be able to anymore. If stuff's here that customers aren't paying us to keep anymore, they get a month to pay off their balance. After that we go through it, keep what we want, chuck what we don't."
With that said, Charley turns her focus back to her book and you, hint received, shut up and look back at your phone. You still need to think of a Twitter handle after all. Maybe Crazy8? Taken. LeatherJacketKingpin? Too long. Doesn't really roll off the tongue.
Your focus on the Twitter app is cut off when your phone buzzes and a green bar appears at the top of the screen; a new message. You open it curiously. From Daybreak. One long word: Nooooooooooooooooooooo. That's it. You can't help but groan. You thought you'd had her convinced this time. You'll sway her next time, you're sure of it!
The noise you make disturbs the peace, and you catch Charley giving you the stink-eye from the corner of your vision. You sigh. "Sorry. Annoying message." you explain, expecting her to shrug and just look back down at her book.
"Oh?" she asks. "Family trouble? Girl nagging you? Insurance bill?"
"Nah, none of that. It's just my trainer." you chuckle, waggling your phone as if it's evidence. "I've been trying to get her to let me back into the school for some practice and she's not having it. I'll wear her down though."
Charley stares at you nonplussed. "Your trainer? Right, your trainer. Archie said something about you being a wrestler?" You nod, and she shrugs. "Weird."
You feel like you should be offended by that. "Weird?"
"Well, yeah." She replies, rolling her eyes. "I mean, I don't get it. I'm sure it's cool for you but it doesn't really click how anyone could decide to do that."
You shrug. "I mean it's hard, but it's nothing-"
"Not like that." Charley interrupts. "I get that it's 'tough'. But I don't get why people make that choice in the first place. Why would you put on spandex and prance around in front of people in a ring when you could be doing literally anything else?"
It's not the first time you've heard the 'why wrestling' thing. It was the main reason you never told anyone what you wanted to do after the eighth grade after all. But as you've gotten older and more mature, you've learned how to handle it better. "Well, it's-"
But Charley's not done. She goes on, oblivious to you as she looks back at her book. "I mean, just look at the components. Ballerinas wear spandex, but they do it for a reason that isn't that they want to pretend to be a pirate or whatever. And actors can play-fight just as well, but they can, you know, actually act."
Alright. She's starting to push your buttons a little. "Have you ever seen any wrestling before?" you ask, voice carefully calm. No sense losing your temper here.
Charley flips a page and takes another note down before she responds. "Yeah, a few times. My brother was a fan. But I never really saw it. There were just there two dudes in a ring who circled around and then did stuff that was so fake it made me laugh. But whatever floats your boat. Shame though."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. You seem okay, Tommy. You could probably do something actually worthwhile if you had your shit together. I don't want to judge, but-"
"Oh. Wow. I was just going to say the same about you."
She looks up, brow knit in confusion. "Excuse me? I-"
"-was in the middle of demeaning my life choices. Got it. And what are you in school for again?" You ask, voice gaining heat. A glance down at her book bag gives you a hint. Textbooks on anatomy, biology, a thin one on medical terminology, and one of handwriting analysis for some reason.
Actually, that last one's probably the key. You've seen enough prescriptions to know that doctor's handwriting is usually a train wreck. "You're studying to be a nurse, right?"
Charley nods stiffly. She seems to understand that you're pissed but not why. You don't really care if she understands right now or not. "Such a shame." You go on. "You seem alright. You could probably do something, you know, worthwhile if you actually focused. You could do so much more then follow around a real doctor and take notes."
Her eyes flash with rage. Good. You're pretty sure you're even now.
You turn your focus back to your phone. You've got way more productive things to do than to sit there seething. You feel a glare boring into the back of your skull and ignore it. Charley doesn't say another word to you for the rest of your shift; and when customers come in she ignores them too. Luckily for them, the job's straight forward so you figure out the paperwork without too much trouble. Still, it makes the rest of your day uncomfortable, to say the least.
When the end of your shift comes around, you're thrilled to escape the stifling atmosphere, even if it means you've got to go through another jog through a snowstorm. Your anger keeps you warm; you're sweating like a pig by the time you make it back to the apartment.
But your anger dissipates like a thundercloud scattered by a strong wind when you open the door when you catch a glimpse of what's waiting for you in the apartment. In the middle of the living room- you guess that's Jack's room- is a fully assembled double bed. Draped across the unmade mattress is Allie, dressed in a Snow White costume of all things. Her eyes are closed but she's still awake- sleeping people don't normally let out moans of pleasure so loud they're almost sexual.
You take in the scene with a raised eyebrow. "Do… do I need to leave you two alone?" you ask.
Without looking at you, Allie raises her middle finger. "I have a bed now." She says. "You cannot ruin this for me. Nothing can ruin this moment. It's perfect."
...There's no real answer for that. You walk by your writhing friend and head into your room to change. Now that Allie's so effectively punctured your bad mood you can feel the chill of your soaked clothes settling in. A few moments later you're back in the living room. She's still at it.
She's going to have to stop eventually- at least, if she doesn't want Jack to claim this bed. It is in his room after all. You say as much and she groans in disappointment before hopping off. As the two of you move the box spring, something occurs to you. Where exactly is your other roommate? He's usually back by now.
You ask, but Allie's got no answers, and you don't have any messages from him. You're distracted as finish putting the last bit of Allie's new treasure down in her room. You take a second to wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand as you watch your friend throw herself back into her blissful paradise. While she bounces slightly, you can't help but worry. "I hope he's alright."
"I'm sure he's fine. Dude probably got a night job or something that made him start immediately." Allie says with a shrug. "Either that or he's been mugged and we'll find out when the police show up. No big."
You're ninety five percent sure she's joking but you still send her a questioning look that she doesn't see as she goes back to her happy place. But you just shrug. She's got a point. If you don't hear from him in a couple hours, you'll start worrying then.
You turn to go back to your room, but Allie emerges from her haze. "Yo." she says. "What're you doing tonight?"
"Sleeping bag and internet on the phone." You answer. "The life of kings."
"Sounds incredible." Allie says dryly. "If you want, and if you can take the time out of your busy schedule, I had some ideas for the gimmick. Want to go over em?"
A few minutes later you're back in her room, bundled up against the chill and zipped up in your sleeping bag. "So. What've you got?" you ask.
"Well I was wondering about what we're going to do in matches." She says. When she sees your confusion, she goes on. "I mean, you're good no matter which way we go. But when we work heel, what am I going to do? You keep saying how no one's going to boo me. And when we work baby, what's Jack going to do? He's not exactly a comeback master."
You shrug. "It's something we're going to have to work out as we go. Jack's probably going to have an easier time of it than you think though. The real trouble's going to be when we're heel and you're established. It's going to be real tricky keeping your heat if you're helping Jack do his thing."
Allie lets out a low whistle. "You're telling me. I mean- really. How am I going to stay baby if I'm helping the 'Lord of Pestilence' or whatever he winds up calling himself."
"I think he's settled on 'Jack Salvation' now." You reply. "I think we got him to turn it down a little. At least he's going with a rabble-rouser gimmick over a disease cult thing. But yeah. Anyway, it'll be tricky. I've got some thoughts though."
The two of you talk for hours, planning out different things about the gimmick. Where you stand during an entrance, who's going to be the primary mouthpiece, who's going to get most of the comebacks, even a few things on Allie's name. She shakes her head at most of your suggestions about the names and nicknames, instead turning it back on you. "I really don't get why you're just using your real name." she says. "There're so many cool names you can pick and you're just sticking with your normal one."
Of course, that starts another mock argument about how awesome your name is and how stupid changing it would be. Which segues back into match layouts, and then the all important question of who gets the pin.
"Ideally we'd spread it around." You say. "But when we're first starting out we need to get a finisher over. Ideally a triple team one. Something we keep totally separate from our singles finish."
Allie nods in agreement. "I was thinking-"
The door slams open and the two of you jump in surprise. You peek your head out of the room to see Jack, standing in the doorway motionless. He doesn't even move to shake the snow off of himself. It gives you the perfect opportunity to see his outfit: bright blue coveralls, stained with bleach and some other kind of chemical you can't identify. Whatever it is, it reeks; you can smell him from here.
Slowly, he turns his head until he's looking at you. Jack stares at you unblinking. "I found a job." he finally grumbles out.
"Sucks?"
"Oh fuck yeah."
"Well… damn." You answer. "At least it pays?"
Jack lets out a loud groan. "Not nearly enough. How much puke can one hallway have? And how does it get in an office building?"
Allie's back in her bed as she calls, "Quit whining and get changed! We're going over the gimmick!"
Jack grumbles but does as ordered. When he joins you, you pick right up where you left off. And one thing becomes readily apparent; you need to iron out your finish now if you want to be able to figure out who gets the pin in most of your matches.
Pick Your Finisher! Please select a team and a solo finish.
[][SOLO] The Double-Underhook Backbreaker. Daybreak's Setting Sun Finisher, you'd be paying tribute to your obscenely reluctant mentor by borrowing her finish.
[][SOLO] A Springboard Legdrop. The kid in you wants nothing more the borrow one of your favorite wrestler's moves, and the Springboard Legdrop was Arya London's deathblow, even if she did it with a full flip. You'll get there eventually.
[][SOLO] A Spinning Backfist. This one'll take advantage of your punching prowess, and you're pretty sure you can nail it on anyone. It's a little common though; plus, you're not sure you can pull it.
[][SOLO] A Top-Rope Corkscrew Dive. It's a little risky at this point, but if you can get this down, it'll definitely wow the crowd. And if you can master it, you can see yourself pulling it out pretty much everywhere.
[][SOLO] A Muai-Thai Knee Strike. You don't know shit about martial arts except for some fights you watched with your dad, but the knee strikes some guys threw in the clinch really stuck with you.
[][SOLO] Write-In
[][TEAM] A Powerbomb(Jack) and Neckbreaker (Tommy) combo, with Allie hitting a splash right as you were going down. This would wind up with Allie getting the pin.
[][TEAM] Jack will whip the guy into a corner, which will end with him being hit with three moves at the same time: a jump kick from Allie, a spinning punch from Tommy, and a corner spear from Jack. This would wind up with Jack getting the pin.
[][TEAM] Jack will hit him with a spinebuster, followed by Allie with the springboard rolling senton, and Tommy'll end with a springboard splash. This will end with Tommy getting the pin.
[][TEAM] Write-In
