HWA Message Board: Distractions

Our scene opens out onto the lounge in the von Richtoven household. Sitting square in the middle of one of the walls is a large widescreen TV, currently showing the aftermath of the UEFA Euro’s final between England and Spain.

Across from it, roughly equidistant between it and the large l-shaped leather sofa is a coffee table, several bottles of Allgäuer Büble Edelbräu, a particular favourite of yours from home, are sat empty on top of it, the bottle caps strewn around them like loose detritus.

At present, one final bottle is held in your hand as you reminisce on what you’ve witnessed.

An equal competition between two foes. A tactical battle from beginning to end. A deserving winner at the conclusion and no shame to be had from the losing side.

You tilt the bottle approvingly at the TV in a salute, before taking a sip as you reach for the remote with your other hand, switching the input to the home screen, the various options flashing up, cable, YouTube, Prime, Netflix and so on.

Silence.

Leaning back into the sofa, you break that with the creaking of the leather against your frame as settle yourself.

Your wife was out for the day, spending time with Jason from what you were lead to believe. Your plans of ‘watching the wrong kind of football’ didn’t appeal to her in the slightest.

Smiling at that thought, you take another sip of your beer, savouring the taste of it as it flows past your lips.

The last few days had been a genuine struggle for you to make it through without breaking, and this was a night to yourself, a chance to relax and drop the facade if only even briefly.

On that last point, you’d been too scared to do so, for fear that you’d be like that children’s nursery story, and not be able to be put back together again.

Now that was a sobering thought, as much as it had been a constant one these past few hours if not days.

Your eyes stare out across the lip of the bottle, blank and unfocused.

The meeting you’d had with… whatever it was that Erica had thrown herself into… it had not gone to plan.

In fact, you’re not sure if there even had been a plan to begin with. Perhaps there had. Right now though, several days detached from the event and having dwelled on it ever since, you’d seemingly convinced yourself that you never did have one…

‘Nice to know I wouldn’t hold up under interrogation for ever…’

You snort with bemusement, grateful for being side tracked with that morbid thought of false convictions and justice misplaced…

’On that note, was that not what Jeremy is looking for, justice?’

Eyes narrowing, you wrack your memory until you cave, and submit to just grabbing for the remote once more, bringing up the HWA app on the TV and looking for the latest promos.

You select the ‘play in order from newest’ option, settling in to watch Wolfy, The Shark, Lunatik and then Jeremy.

Zoning out, you let the sounds, the scenes, the childish insults and taunts play out…

The promos come and go, all the while your bottle becomes emptier.

The corner of your ears prick up, as you find yourself back in the room, midway through Jeremy’s promo.

Perhaps it should be disconcerting, perhaps not. A fleeting thought over what you were musing over comes and goes as you hear him speak of Herr Chaos…

(Jeremy): I’m your ghost of crimes past Maniac, I won’t forget, I won’t forgive, and I won’t let go. You think you can say you’ve changed and carry on with your life, and get pissy every time someone reminds you of the things you did. There’s shit you’ll need to shovel and eat all the days of your remaining life.

Now that’s something that you’re in complete agreement with.

Another tilt of the bottle towards the TV follows, before the remaining liquid is drained.

(Jeremy): At Havoc…it’s me and a true legend. Hans von Richtoven. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. People say “never meet your heroes” but I’m glad to have met and know mine. The constant, the standard bearer, the consummate professional that he is. Hans the last time we met you took me to task, I learned a lot, but with all due respect… this time will be different.

I’m not the same man I was, the last months and especially Ring Master has changed that. That business model, that dream, that vision we once lived by of “pure wrestling”… that’s dead. That is one battle that Maniac won. He wanted “his” old HWA back and he got it. I see what he’s done to you… this whole Erica bullshit has consumed your life and somehow, someway you manage to maintain composure and control.

A low sigh comes from you at hearing those words.

(Jeremy): Respect is misunderstood word because it means something different from person to person… it is not universal. I have all the respect in the world for you Hans, and to me that means I know the man you are, I accept it, and I’m proud to be a fan and now colleague, and hopefully a friend. But like I said, respect is not universal and it even changes. Once upon a time I felt the same about you as I did for The Parkers but not anymore. Not in the same way. I respect their position as our bosses, and owners of the once again largest organization in this industry, but that is where it ends these days. Maybe one day you can explain to me how you stay friends with people who enable the misery that darkens your doorstep.

A small voice pipes up at the back of your head asking much the same thing. You quash it, even though you know it will rise again.

(Jeremy): Why does Erica still have a job here after everything she’s done? Why did they abandon the vision that they instilled in us? Why did they say one thing and do another allowing barbarity to return to that sacred ring? You don’t need the money. You came back to help this company get back on its feet, you came back for the love of this business and they stand idle letting Maniac and his pet dog nip and tear at your heels…and when some says enough…when some targets the head of the snake… I get booed by the fans. Explain this to me Hans.

You can’t.

You settle the empty bottle down amongst it’s compatriots on the coffee table, staying close to the edge of the sofa rather than returning to where you’d been previously lying out.

(Jeremy): At Havoc, this match is different Hans. I want you… no… I need you to be the veteran and the legend you are more than ever. It’s like a video game when you beat a boss and gain one of their abilities. I need your temperance Hans, you’ve mastered the are of self-discipline and that is a new weapon I need to wield. Maniac, Erica, Lunatik, they don’t belong here.

I can’t ask you to bloody your hands Hans. I can’t hope for you to step outside of your nature. What I can ask and hope for is that when we meet at Havoc. I learn a new lesson, and even though I intend to win, you’ll be proud to lose knowing that I’m looking forward to finishing this game they’ve played.

Whistling through gritted teeth, you simply switch the TV off, not bothering to exit the app and bring it back to the home page.

The remote makes a muffled thump as it hits the leather across from you, as you slump backwards, one hand going to your brow as you sigh loudly.

Do you respond? What do you say? He made valid points, he’s a smart man…

You remain sprawled out for a few minutes, having this back and forth internal discussion.

That you were also several drinks in played on your mind.

Dutch courage, no?

A sigh, one side had won. You’d best just go for it. He’d asked questions, you owed him a response.

You extract your phone from your pocket, swiping to the camera app and placing it to the video option, flipping the screen back to have it facing yourself.

A brief moment to adjust the hair, check that your eyes aren’t bloodshot and that you looked somewhat presentable for having not planned on doing this until a few moments ago.

A deep breath, then you hit the record button.

(Hans): ‘Guten abend all, unt in particular, Jeremy.

You find me having just watched another sport, not an individual one like ours, jah, but a team sport. But one where I think that you unt I would find common ground Jeremy…’

You pause, composing your thoughts for a second.

(Hans): ‘You’re right, respect is a word that ist so often used incorrectly in our business. So often bandied about in place of more fitting ones… it’s like with new lovers… it’s not love, it’s lust… jah?

I’m… both glad unt sad to hear that you’re not the same man as you were when we faced one another at ‘Helloween Harvest’ all those months ago. I’m glad, because you’ve matured, you’ve grown in confidence in yourself unt you’ve dedicated yourself towards wrestling in a way that you hadn’t at that point in time. You were a student, jah, perhaps more focused on the theoretical than practical… Und now look, that is not a charge one could level at you.’

Another pause, best to get this right afterall.
(Hans): ‘But I’m sad that you feel Herr Chaos has won. I’m saddened that you would feel the need to voice what you’ve said… Butch unt Wisdom, they’re mein freunds… our bosses… pioneers in their own rights…

But on this… this point…

I’m also proud. Because you’ve voiced what I have not… You’ve given my doubts unt my concerns clarity. Jah, why does Erica still have a job here after everything she’s done? Why did Butch unt Wisdom abandon the vision that they instilled in you? Why did they say one thing and do another allowing barbarity to return to that sacred ring? I have no clear answer for you Jeremy. I wish I did…’

You choke down on the sudden burst of emotions that claw at your throat.

Swallowing, you force them down and at bay, for now.

The tautness remains though

(Hans): ‘I wish I could explain. I wish I had the answers as to why Butch has gone so silent of late. I’d show you the unresponded messages, but since I’m recording myself right now…’

A low chuckle is forced out. It’s evident that there’s nothing behind it.

(Hans): ‘Ich…’

The sigh is that of a defeated individual.

(Hans): ‘Put that aside for one moment. You need me to be the veteran at Havoc Jeremy? You need me to teach you? Jah…’

You find yourself nodding at this.

(Hans): ‘Of course, you will have my full focus Jeremy. I need this as much as you do. What you think has gone, I want to fight for, I want to hold tight against me and grip like my life depended on it…’

A small voice pipes up again, ‘or your sanity’.

You curse these internal thoughts, but know they’re not wrong.

(Hans): ‘I will be the veteran, I will teach you Jeremy… unt you will teach me in return. As we did at Helloween Harvest’, let’s put on a clinic, let’s show the others what it means to be a wrestler. Herr Clarke thinks himself a shining example, let’s cast shade over him so much that he can’t find his way about. Let’s put on a match so sublime that Herr Chaos feels it deep down that he could never compete cleanly against.

Unt once it’s over, one way or another, perhaps you can sit with me unt help me answer some questions you’ve posed to me…’

A tilt of the head towards your phone and you’re thumbing the record button once more.

On autopilot, you’re then uploading the video to the HWA app, as you slowly get to your feet, groaning somewhat as you stretch out.

Again, silence descends on the room.

You look around, first at the clock, then at the coffee table.

Time before Vanessa’s due back, you could tidy up somewhat. You’re in a fit enough state for that if nothing else.

Perhaps it would keep the intrusive thoughts at bay a while yet?

The scene fades out to black as you set to work collecting up the bottles.