|
The
Golden Boy Melts The people in ICE walked around the table that Stein sat at. He had that sweatshirt on, still, and that hood up and over his head to cover his face. Sitting in front of him was a bottle of Guinness, along with a few empty bottles of the same elixir and a few shot glasses. It was obvious Stein was drinking away that loss to Osbourne Kilminster, but deep in side, he was also drinking away the woman he loved. Stein didn't want to be seen. Not by a patron of the bar, not by any wrestling fan, not even by the waitress that had been helping him. He just wanted to drink. He leaned over his bottle, his thumb tracing the lip slowly as the dance music started to beat in his ear. He looked up to see the waitress standing next to him. She wore what every other waitress wore, a short, white, furry jacket that exposed more than just the lower half of her stomach, a skirt that barely covered her most private of parts, and a pair of white furry Uggs boots. Waitress: “How are you doing, Darling? Everything okay?” Stein raised his eyebrows and nodded, silently telling her to leave him the fuck alone. She took the hint and turned away from the table. Stein watched as the skirt she wore tried to lift up, and secretly wished it would. He didn't know what he was doing in that bar before she walked over to him that last time. Dan pulled the hood back and ran his hands through his hair, trying to fix it as much as possible. Stein slid out of the booth and glanced around himself while trying to get his drunken bearings straight. To his right was the bathroom, to his left was the door. In front of him was what he wanted. In front of him was what he needed. In front of him was that waitress who served him his drinks. Stein walked forward, bouncing off people dancing on the floor like a pinball as his eyes never left the woman's legs and ass. Beads of sweat dripped off his face onto his sweatshirt as the heat of the bar and the cloth of the shirt weighed down on him. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and tapped the woman on the shoulder. She turned around and looked at him. She pulled back the curtains of the hotel room, and the sun shone brightly in his eyes. He woke up slowly, covering his eyes from the sunlight; his heavy hang over was running it's course and his head pounded as the sun beat down on him. He winced as he tried to adjust to the sunlight, watching the female's frame walk in front of him and towards the bathroom. His head fell back against the pillow and he shut his eyes tightly before moaning and rolling his feet off the bed to the ground. He leaned forward and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. Looking over his shoulder as she walked out of the bathroom, Stein realized who woke him up that morning. Dan Stein: “Hey...” Gemma Keogh, the woman he called his girlfriend, walked in front of him. Stein looked at her and rubbed her leg as she stared down at him. Stein looked at the waitress inside the dark bar and smiled, burping a little bit. The waitress laughed under her breath, which Stein didn't know... or care to acknowledge. She stared at his baby blue eyes – which, any other day, were panty droppers – and shook her head slightly. Dan Stein: “I'm sure you know who I am now...” The woman looked at him and nodded. Waitress: “Yep.” Dan Stein: “Awesome.” The woman laughed a little. Waitress: “You're the guy in the back corner. Do you want your check, Honey?” Stein laughed. Dan Stein: “I'm 'The Lights'... I'm Dan Stein? You know, SHOOT Project star?” The woman looked at him and shook her head as she narrowed her eyes, confused. Waitress: “SHOOT Project? I'm sorry, Honey...” Stein looked at the woman, shocked. He thought everyone knew who he was, what SHOOT Project was. He felt a twitch in his stomach as he looked at the woman, and shook his head. Then he felt a stronger twitch, and a weak burp. The woman looked at him, and pulled him over to the bar. She motioned to the bartender, and put the trash can in his face before he vomited up his liquid courage. Gemma: “Do you know how you got home last night?” Stein looked at her, shaking his head. Gemma: “I got a call from ICE, the bar you took off to during Revolution. They told me you had been drinking for several hours in the back corner before you tried throwing your profession all over the place, and ended up throwing your dinner all over the trash can.” Stein's hand dropped from her leg to the bed. Dan Stein: “I'm sorry, Gem.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him again. Gemma: “Dan, you're in trouble.” Stein looked up at her with the puppy dog eyes. Dan Stein: “I'm sor-” Gemma: “Not... with me. You're in serious trouble with yourself, Dan. You're not the same guy, at all. You've gone from... happy-go-lucky to... this.” She moved her hand up and down, motioning over his body. Dan Stein: “I'm sorry...” Gemma: “Get help. Until you do... I'm out of your life.” Stein's eyes dropped to the floor. The door slammed behind her. Stein's tears dropped to the floor. “A loss is just a loss. Plain and simple. Nothing more, nothing less. It can change a man, it can make or break the man, but the loss is still... just a loss.” Stein stood in front of the SHOOT Project cameras. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and a nice pair of khaki shorts, and embraced the light from the cameras by wearing a pair of black sunglasses. Stein was off on the balcony of the hotel room, leaning over the railing and staring into the Las Vegas sunset. “How do I say this without sounding cliché? Osbourne beat me in that ring on Sunday, and he did it like he said he would. He brought the pain. He brought the hurt. But so did I. Everyone can be beaten at any given time, especially me. Be it Osbourne Kilminster, Kenji Yamada, The BURGLAR or even... Caleb Knox... I can be beaten, and I need to do everything in my power to realize that. That a loss is just a loss, it's what you do with the loss that makes or breaks the man.” Stein ran his hands through his blonde hair before returning his hands to their intertwined position. He glanced at the camera before looking back over the desert. “I went from World Heavyweight title shots, holding the Iron Fist championship, and Laws of Survival contendership... to opening the show. I went from having my name on the billboards, to being paired with the unknown contender in Caleb Knox, hoping to make a big splash in his first match in SHOOT Project. One... match... and everything I worked for up until last week seemingly... disappeared. “I said it before, an empire can be rebuilt, but it wont happen over night. I know this. I know that I'm going to have to take a few steps back to take that step forward. I know that I will have a slip up here and there, but I know that I will keep fighting until I rebuild what I had accomplished before Kenji Yamada beat me for the belt that I... worshiped, I will keep fighting until long after I build OFF of what I had accomplished previously. “I will keep fighting until I right what I wronged in my life.” Stein turned his head to the camera and stared for a few seconds before dipping his head and turning back to the sea of sand. “Caleb, welcome to SHOOT Project. Welcome to the big time. Welcome to Las Vegas, to your future and welcome to everything you have ever wanted, laid out right there in front of you for you to grab a hold of and do with what you want to. Welcome, Mr. Knox, to the land of dreams, nightmares, victory and defeat. Welcome, Caleb, to Heaven AND Hell on Earth. “Welcome to your first true awakening.” Stein stood up, turning to look at the camera now with his hands on his hips. “I know what it's like to sit at home, watching the TV, going, 'O-M-G, I can do that!' I know what it's like to be a fan-boy, Caleb. You've apparently followed this sport or at least me for quite some time now, I think it's fair to call you a 'fan-boy', yeah? “You sit at home, watching us on the TV and you envision yourself in our feet. You envision yourself as Real Deal or OutKast coming out to huge ovations from the fans, or as Jonny Johnson or Ron Barker, getting rained on with a chorus of boos and beer cups. You can see yourself envoking the emotions of MILLIONS of fans, all across the globe, and you think – no - you know that you could just as easily do that. That you could put on a show that people will remember for years to come; Like the time that Azraith DeMitri drove Damien Roy off a bridge, or OutKast gave Dave Hawkin's wife an in-ring abortion, or Eli Storm beating Cade Sydal for the SHOOT Project WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP. You know that could be you, and that's what set you out on your way to becoming the next Adrian Corazon or Loco Martinez. “That's you to a t, isn't it? “Or did you do it because you want to prove to Daddy that you're NOT a failure? That you WONT end up like he did, beating helpless children and hating the entire world. You wont end up an alcoholic with a temper problem, you WONT become your father. That's why you started out on your way, right?” Stein shrugged. “It was probably a mixture of both of those things. Your father drove you to wrestling as an escape from the real world, and your fan-boy attitude towards the sport lead you deeper into the mix. I mean, everyone can tell that you're walking into this thing fresh. Even Leon Strife walked into his first match with a little originality, Caleb. You seem to be paraphrasing each and every debut promotion ANYONE has ever cut, and doing a horrible job at it. I mean, come on. 'Win, lose or draw'? 'Every last ounce'? 'Making a name for myself'? You even misspoke when you said that it was Monday Night Revolution, that you'll be ready come Monday, that you're ready to begin down that path on Monday. “That's fine with me. Get ready for Monday, see if I care, Caleb, but if you're going to bring your best for me? Make sure you bring it on Sunday, not Monday. I could give a shit about what you're preparing for on Monday, it's Sunday that we're supposed to step into the ring against each other. “I know what you meant, though, Caleb. I know you meant Sunday, and I know you'll be ready for the match when the bell sounds, but the match that you're walking into isn't against Conor Macle... Conor Caden, it's against a former SHOOT Project Iron Fist Champion, against the man that STOPPED Adrian Corazon DEAD in his tracks, against the man that SHOOT Project fans, staff and wrestlers have dubbed... The Golden Boy. “You may know what it is you have to do to beat me, and you may THINK you have what it takes to beat me, Caleb, but when you get into that ring with me on SUNDAY, and you realize that you've actually made the big time, you wont have time to think about anything. By the time you think of what you're going to do next? Lights out.” Stein looked at the camera. “Just remember, Caleb. You made it to the big time. You made it to the land of Hopes and Admirations, Dreams and Nightmares. You made it to the place you longed to be. More importantly, Caleb, remember.... a loss... is just a loss.” Stein wiped the vomit from his face and looked around him to see the circle of nothingness that the people left around him. Everyone, it seemed, was staring at him, and the waitress was rubbing his back. Waitress: “I don't think you're going to object to me cutting you off tonight, huh, Honey?” Stein looked at her for a second before shaking his head and looking to the ground. Waitress: “Anyone you want to come pick you up, Dan?” Stein sighed as he pushed up off of the lid of the can. He stood and watched the room sway. Waitress: “Dan?” Stein nodded. In his head he ran over the thoughts. Cade Sydal, Jason Johnson, maybe one of the Flying Avengers if they were in town... No. There was one person whose arms Stein wanted to fall into tonight before he passed out. He pulled out his phone, opened it up, and scrolled to the G's. Gemma Keogh. |
 |