You’re at the wheel of your McLaren, en route to the airport from where you’ll be flying on to Phoenix, Arizona ahead of tomorrow night’s Havoc.
The last few days have been a hive of activity at the Academy and in truth, a chance to escape it for a time is appreciated.
Your eyesight is by now near enough returned to full vision. No lasting damage, thankfully.
It was something that you took pains to explain to the newer intakes earlier in the week, a ‘don’t be that guy’ kinda talk that came about as the discussion came around to finishers and how he’d selected his.
At any rate, not having a match this week is a nice change, it’s allowed you to spend more time at the Academy and get to know the trainees more. Spending more time with Matthew was always a bonus too, grabbing lunch here and there, finding out about what he’d done over Christmas, insulting one anothers music tastes and so on. Not having your own match to prepare for in addition to everything else freed up time.
Time to also spend with your wife.
On that topic, the two main prongs; children and work were very much still… well, work in progress.
In fact, on the former, you had been cutting it fine leaving when you did to get to the airport.
You’re smiling at that thought. Worth it.
Besides that, what else is there to smile about?
Ah, of course, peace reigns. Erica is silent.
Yes, small matter of an ‘update’ being given about her come Havoc, but right now, that she wasn’t there in either your waking or sleeping moments was nothing but good news.
Your eyes flicker, catching one of the markers at the roadside, making internal plans for when you’ll need to change lanes up ahead.
Time to focus on the road.
Fade out, momentarily, before coming back in a few hours later, as you’re standing outside the terminal at Phoenix International.
While you’re waiting for one or two others to join you, you take the chance to record something for the fans.
Out comes your iPhone, and without much delay, you’re holding out your arm and hitting the record button.
(Hans): Hallo Phoenix. Hallo HWA fanverse.
Tomorrow, I’m not competing. Ich feiere zwanzig jahre…
You can barely believe it.
Really? 20 years?
Your head is shaking slightly.
(Hans): Twenty years… twenty years since I first appeared in the HWA.
I’ll admit to having to spend some time processing that, jah… who wouldn’t? I still am.
I count myself fortunate that many of you who have followed my career did so because of what I’ve done in this federation.
So for those watching now, viele dank.
You smile at the camera, taking it in for a moment and processing your thoughts.
(Hans): Consider that a dry run in case I’m made to give a speech tomorrow night…
A light ripple of a laugh escapes.
(Hans): Of course, I’ll not be up there on my own. Mein freund, Butch is being celebrated as well. A man who has accomplished so much both in unt out of ze ring.
A man who ist training hard for his return to the ring too.
Jah, it will be good to see him honoured.
This time it’s a grimace, even if it is kept restrained somewhat.
(Hans): Unt Herr Chaos… jah, zwanzig jahre too.
On that, I feel like I’ve learnt something recently. If I’d known that all it takes to shut him up is to say that he ‘looks like’ the type as Herr Clarke put it… well…
A low sigh and a shrug of the shoulders as the smile starts to form once more.
(Hans): Well everyday is a school day, jah?
Speaking of which, Herr Clarke, the Jesse I fought has done nothing but grow in his time since our match. Don’t set yourself up for an early fall now…
Anyway, I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow, and I will be in the ring at the next event.
With a nod at the camera, you hit the stop button, spending the next few seconds sending it over to the HWA official channel and uploading it.
Your attention is drawn to some colleagues finally getting through the baggage claim and heading in your general vicinity.
One arm up to draw their attention to you, they reciprocate and start angling directly now.
The scene fades out as they draw closer.
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