It’s early evening and you’re preparing to leave for home.
On the top of your desk is your duffel bag, you’re currently packing it for the journey home. As you do so, you find yourself reminiscing on the events of the past few days.
Monday saw you walking into Butch’s office and on the back of it having a brief chat with Jesse Draconis. You’d needed to get the pent up frustration out of your system somewhat, and while he wasn’t able to do what you’d have wanted him to do, you do appreciate where he’s coming from.
Still stings though.
It was good to focus on Jesse however, here was something that you needed, someone to fix the target on. Someone who’d be gunning for you for all the right reasons. He and his brother were competing for a spot on the main roster and while you weren’t detecting it at the time, it’d surely be a source of pride to get one over on you as well given you’d beaten his father at Havoc.
That William was recovering as well, that was good.
Perhaps a rematch down the line? That was a good test afterall.
Then later that evening you hear you’re facing your friend at the next PPV, ‘Helloween Harvest’. You’ve got a soft spot for this particular PPV, it was where you won your All-Star title against Eddie K all those years ago. Fitting that you and Matthew would be able to honour his career at the same event.
You’re nodding along to these thoughts, as you throw your towel into the duffel bag, packing it into one corner of it, separate from the rest.
As for the rest of the conference that Butch had called, your words had been read out. It was cathartic and a statement of intent in equal measure.
Since then, things hadn’t gone quite as you’d first feared.
Tuesday morning had opened with some reporters showing up outside your home, they’d added a few by the time you’d returned after a day at the Academy. All had been given the cold shoulder.
Persistent though, they’d been there just the same on Wednesday and you quite expected them to be there by the time you got home tonight.
From those in the Academy that you’d passed by over the last few days though, they’d offered nods of the head and knowing looks, reassuring words and a keenness to work alongside him.
That meant a lot.
Tuesday morning had also brought the inevitable whining tones of Herr Chaos.
Back for another round…
In goes the training top and the trunks next, folded neatly and placed on top of the towel.
You weren’t going to let your frustrations distract you from making sure your bag was neatly packed.
He was persistent that one.
No, not persistent. Stupid.
Regardless, it had gnawed at you the last few days like a persistent itch or a buzzing sound at the edge of your hearing.
Next into the bay is your water bottle and toiletries bag.
In an effort to distract yourself you’re thinking ahead to the drive home and the evening with your wife.
Things were still… weird.
You’d had the heart to heart, the sit down. Both of you had put it off for the first few days, using the excuse of the repairs of the home and the final batch of their initial furniture order going in to stall things.
Then, Maria had left for the evening and a long weekend at their insistence and with their thanks.
So it was just the two of you.
You’d both gone and gotten yourself drinks before finding yourselves sitting next to one another on the seats overlooking the pool. The skyline of downtown LA in the distance twinkling as the sun slowly dips below the horizon.
You find yourself placing the last item or so in your bag, reaching for the zip and yet pausing. Reliving the conversation.
Neither of you had dry eyes by the end of it but what needed to be said was said, on both sides.
The next morning it was unsettling in a sense. It was like you were both rediscovering who the other was.
A glance at the wedding ring on your finger.
A deep sigh.
Yes, you can’t be going home with other things on your mind.
Out of the pocket of your jeans comes your phone. You could go upstairs to the recording booth easily enough but what if someone was in? No. This needed to be said now.
You hit the record button, holding the phone at arms distance and begin speaking.
(Hans): Herr Chaos, like the rodent you are, here you come, scurrying out to gnaw at the scraps thrown away. What is it this week, jah? Ah, riding the coattails of the lies your protege has spun. Of course, something, anything to get my attention. You can’t let it all be on Erica, nein, you need this.
The free hand runs through the light stubble on your chin briefly before wagging at the camera with your index finger.
(Hans): Oh how you must love being able to claim the moral high ground Herr Chaos. Nevermind that the foundations are sand, but there you are, looking down. An alien feeling to someone like yourself, jah? Or at least, to the majority of your personalities. And as far as ‘owning up’, Herr Chaos, don’t make me laugh. You never have. Whataboutery is your defence and a poor one at that.
A small smile forms.
(Hans): As for your claims to back her financially to the hilt. Forgive me for not taking you at your word… I distinctly recall you saying that you’d see me ‘face to face’ at Havoc. All I recall is the back of your head as you trundled away. Again, Herr Chaos, you’re the schoolyard bully, Erica is who you’re standing behind while you throw barbs from afar… or attack when unexpected… because you can’t do it otherwise… du bist schwach… du bist erbärmlich… I can’t wait to see Jeremy take you down at Havoc.
You hit the recording button once more, stopping it. The next few seconds fly by as you fire off the promo to the HWA official YouTube channel and link it to the other social media feeds.
There, that’s better.
You grab your duffel bag, zipping it up and make for the exit as the scene fades to black.
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