As he let out a deep, measured breath, his gaze wandered across the steam-filled chamber, landing upon the silent figure seated across from him. Butch Parker, his boss was a presence that commanded respect without needing to utter a word. His towering frame seemed at ease, his presence both a comfort and a reminder of the path Stu-E had embarked upon.
Butch's unspoken presence seemed to hold a weight of its own. His silence was like a heavy cloak, draped over the room, and yet, it was a silence that conveyed a depth of understanding that words could rarely achieve.
The heat embraced them both, tendrils of warmth seeping into their weary muscles, offering a moment's respite from the rigors of the outside world. Stu-E closed his eyes, letting his body relax against the bench, the tension of the match slowly unravelling. His thoughts drifted between the memories of the match, the adrenaline-fueled moments of glory, and the subsequent realization of the toll it had exacted.
The sauna's stillness was like a sanctuary, a space where Stu-E's guard could lower, where vulnerability was accepted without judgment.
The steam curled in ethereal tendrils around them, a dance that seemed to echo the movements of their thoughts. Stu-E's fingers traced the edges of the bruises that marred his skin, a reminder of the artistry and brutality that defined their chosen arena. The black eye, an emblem of the struggles he had faced, stood as a testament to his fortitude, a badge of honour earned on the battlefield.
As the minutes passed, the weight of the moment grew, an unspoken acknowledgement that spoke volumes. Butch remained a steadfast presence, his stillness both a reflection of the respect he held for Stu-E's journey and a testament to the legacy he had built.
“Whatyae think yae dooin ganean tae tha pub, pal?" Butch pipes up, yet it wasn’t his accent, and neither did his mouth move. Price glances over, "I forgot to turn subtitles on, say that again?" comes his reply which falls on deaf ears. There’s a silence in the Sauna until Price smiles.
"Just joking, bud. No need to repeat. I went to the pub for a pay-per-view worthy entrance, it’s been years since I had the chance, so I made the most of it. This is still the entertainment business after all; I think the pop when I came out justified it.
And who else has the clout to have David Beckham on a pay-per-view cameo?”
Stu-E shrugs his shoulders, “Besides, I'd spent weeks convincing them both I thought it was going to be a handicap match, so I just allowed them both to have a feel of each other before I finished my beer. I would have been there sooner, but Beckham sure can talk."
Price looks at Butch, who still hasn’t moved and still hasn’t spoken.
“Considering you said at the pay-per-view you wanted to talk, you sure ain’t saying much.”
Stu-E lets out a big sigh and savours the heat of the sauna.
“You called a pay-per-view event, the first one you’ve held in years ‘Art of War’ and didn’t expect at least one person on the roster to read the book? It literally says in the book ‘all warfare is based on deception’ so yeah, I pushed certain buttons of Legion and Draconis.
Convinced them both that I really thought they had it in for me, that it was going to be a handicap match, that just maybe I was going over the edge with paranoia. The only words they, you, and your commentators should have paid a blind bit of notice to was when I clearly stated that I want to fight people when they’re at their very best. You wanted an Art of War, Butch, and I created a war. And I’ve read the online reports, the consensus is that my war was beautiful.”
Price smiles and holds his arms out, “Once again, The Price, was right.”
That’s enough of listening to Price babble on, Butch makes a move.
He…
folds in half….
The heat of the sauna is too much for the cardboard cutout, to which Stu-E gently laughs.
“I hope you don’t mind me having a laugh, Butch. I just thought recording a promo as soon as I could, would be much better than me flying in to headquarters for an office chat as it was nothing controversial, or anything like that, I was merely playing in to the ‘Art of War’ name.
I planned the entrance purely for that pop the fans gave as I walked through that curtain, I wish I could have told you but I wanted it to be a surprise. Every word I said about Draconis and Legion was calculated so they would be at their best, I just wanted to make sure the fans had a hell of a match to watch, I think they did, but if yourself and Wisdom think I was wrong, then we’ll chat.
As for my you two pawns, Legion and Dragon, I wholeheartedly just want to say thank you.”
Stu-E looks down on the floor and sighs, his tone of voice drastically different from his promos leading up to Art of War. There’s an honesty, a sincerity there.
“That was one hell of a match we all put together, all three of us can be proud of our efforts and satisfied that we very well might have had the best wrestling match on a HWA pay-per-view for 8 years! I’m not the type of bastard to not give credit where credit is due, when I returned to the business, I never expected in a million years to be having a match like that. If I retire tomorrow, I’d be happy if that was the last one.
Where our roads go from here is up to you two; William, you took the pinfall and the loss and I appreciate that, I’ll send over a case of beer as a thank you. Get some rest and maybe we’ll be back in the ring soon. Legion, I’m sure we’ll have a discussion at some point soon about how best to put our little issue to bed.”
And so, within the enveloping warmth of the sauna, Stu-E Price and the broken Butch Parker cardboard cutout sat in contemplative silence as the scene fades out.
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