It’s early morning and Hans is getting ready to depart for the HWA Academy.
While he’s managed to grab an hour or two’s less sleep than he’d have ideally wanted, you wouldn’t tell.
Going about as if on auto-pilot, Hans drains his coffee, rinsing the mug briefly under the tap and placing it besides the sink.
A few paces and he’s passing by where he’d left his top, a simple plain black affair. He pulls it on, ruffling his hair with his left hand as he walks towards the bathroom.
One hand goes to the toothbrush, the other the toothpaste tube.
This carries on for the next few minutes, Hans preparing himself for the day.
As he shakes the effect of sleep from him though, he finds his mind wandering as it’s prone to do with no other distractions about.
Again, as is it prone to do, it’s typically on the things that are dwelling unnecessarily rather than more pleasant things.
You think on what Erica has said, you think of what Erica has done.
She just can’t help herself can she?
Your thoughts pause for a second as you reenter the kitchen. You look from one side to another at the fridge and then at the countertop.
Did I forget anything?
No. This is a well oiled routine by now.
Doesn’t help to double check.
Still no.
Satisfied, you take a few steps backwards, turning as you do until you’re facing the hallway and towards the far end where your shoes are.
Where was I? Ah, that…
Finding out what she’d said, that had stung. Not so much at you yourself, you’d had stalkers in the past. Fan fiction was out there that ranged from one extreme to the other, he had posters of him out there in his wrestling trunks like many others did and, well, social media made it easier for a certain type of person to try to get what they thought they really had with him.
(Hans): Jah, I’ve never worked with them though…
The words are said almost under your breath as you pad along the hallway, reaching the shoe rack as you grab a pair of dark blue Converse trainers.
You slump to the ground to put them on. Not that your balance is lacking, it’s just force of habit and you’ll make less noise that way instead of hopping on one foot as you fight with the other.
Anyway, jah, back on topic.
It wasn’t so much her saying it about you if that was it, that was water off a duck’s back. No, it was who it was aimed at. Those kids wouldn’t know any better. And what galls you the most is that it doesn’t matter if you take the time to go down there yourself and correct the record, because they’d not believe you. Take the photo albums of your wedding day?
It’s fake.
Show the videos of you goofing about on holiday with one another, pulling stupid faces at various landmarks all around the world. You know, take a serious photograph and then take a silly one, the one you’ll actually remember?
Someone’s edited that.
Talk about the soul destroying moment your wife entered your car the other week and your world flipped upside down in an instance?
Nice acting. You’re really selling this Hans.
(Hans): Scheiße.
No, you can’t. Even if you did, there’d always be someone there that just wouldn’t see reason. Those children in particular, who they were, where they were from… they had it hard enough without you going and tearing down the image they had of someone who mattered to them…
But then, to let things remain as they are. It’s one small thing but it gives her the go ahead to do it again, escalate…
Like she hasn’t escalated things enough as it is.
One of the Converse is on and tied by this time, the other well on its way.
This press conference is on Wednesday, you’ll perhaps get the chance to say something then. If you can rely on the press for anything, it’s that they love gossip and you can call it then. Good tactics would suggest he nip it in the bud by doing the former, but then he’d be forever chasing his tail and putting out fires. Good strategy would be to call it at the press conference.
That he and Jeremy weren’t tearing lumps out of one another in the media wasn’t good in some respect, but then, when you had Price calling for the heads of the two he was facing that night in Legion and Draconis and then the thought of Sean getting his hands on Fallen… so even if they had been, it’d have been overshadowed anyway.
His match was for the purists…
In the lead-up at any rate. Once he and Jeremy had left the ring, then that would be expanded to everyone and not just the purists.
They’d give the crowd something so spectacular that not even Herr Chaos driving a bus through the ring and over a jump while on fire would have them as psyched to go back in time and watch it all over again.
Wouldn’t that be a sight to see though.
A small snort of laughter comes from you as you get to your feet, the morbid humour tickling you.
Right, what’s next?
Jacket.
You reach up, taking the weathered brown leather jacket off the hook and slide it on with practiced ease. It’s like a second skin this jacket, one of those that your wife knew wouldn’t be getting put to the back of the wardrobe anytime soon. You’d accept a new one, yes, but not until this one had fallen apart and had been mourned.
Try suggesting that it’s anything like that sun dress of hers though…
You smirk at that thought. Let sleeping dogs lie.
Your right hand goes to the pocket of the leather jacket, yes, there it is, the familiar weight of your car keys and the fob that activates the garage door along with it.
Best get moving.
You’d arranged to meet Jeremy in one of the video rooms, you’d been pinging one another various match clips from YouTube the last few days and you’d thought of one that he’d not yet seen.
The guy you’d faced was a good stand in for Jeremy, he was of similar height and build and fought in a manner not too dissimilar from him as well. It would be a good one to look over.
Then after that, depending on when she arrived, he’d spend time with Michelle. She’d had some doubts over continuing the sessions at first, but he’d quashed those.
He’d be a professional.
He wouldn’t let her harm Erica through underhanded means.
So let me show you how to do it above board.
On that note.
You pull your iPhone from your pocket, tapping a quick reminder to Michelle as you navigate the hallway and through to the door leading to the garage, the one off the utility room.
You click send and place the phone back in your pocket, looking around and confirming where you are.
In a few weeks, this place won’t be yours anymore.
The offer had gone through, you’d have a new place to call home. New corridors and walls to learn, make your own. This place, it was nice, but it’d be good to have somewhere that was in the name of you and your wifes.
Your hand is still hovering over the pocket where you’d slid your phone.
She won’t mind.
You pull it back out, this time sending your wife a message, wishing her a good morning and sending it on.
You’d both been over to her parent’s at the weekend. It was the start of the NFL pre-season, your father in law had managed to get tickets for his beloved Saints and wanted you both to go along with him. Naturally you’d kept your Chief’s top from the last time they’d played, so on it went. The scowls from him were worth it, even if you both knew there was nothing behind them.
Your size and frame meant that no-one around them tried to make a go of it, either before or during the game when the alcohol was flowing or afterwards when the score read the Saint’s winning by 2 points.
And if anyone had joined in your father in-law’s joyful ribbing of you, then the old man would have snapped at them first before you’d be able to open your mouth.
So he’d left his wife, got the late evening flight back over to LA and managed to grab a few hours sleep and now he was about to step out into the garage and get in his car. Vanessa would stay out another day or two, back in time for the press conference from what they’d talked about.
He’d hear from her before then though, phonecall at lunch most likely.
Unless her mutti drives her up the wall before then…
Another dry smile, as Hans reaches the door leading to the garage, seeing his packed duffel bag already there waiting for him. Again, he was a creature of habit. Opening the door to the garage, he flicks the switch off behind him and walks to his Mclaren.
The scene fades to black as the door finally closes behind him.
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