Post by Andrew Barnes on Aug 7, 2020 17:29:10 GMT -5
Minneapolis, Minnesota
McDonald's Parking Lot
08/07/2020 9:27AM
The soft imagery of Andrew Barnes happily working out with others, talking to fans, cheers from the crowd fades into the screen; quickly replace by the stark and jarring image of Oblivion and Soul Reaver breaking Andrew's body with move after move. The pain. The anger. The sheer physicality from those two brutes have left a mark on Andrew Barnes body and soul. Just barely recovering from Soul Reaver, Andrew Barnes now has to go back into the lion's den and face off against two beasts.. And Eli Beazley- someone who holds similar beliefs about mowing lawns and why it really doesn't need to be done.
Andrew Barnes cradles a McDonald's coffee cup, with piping hot steam exhausting out of the hole to drink from. A badly bruise right eye, along with some cuts on the face that are finally scabbing up; Andrew Barnes blows into the coffee, failing to cool it down as every breath brings excruciating pain to his ribs.
"God damn it." He shakes his head, wheezing a bit with every word, "Hurry up and cool down." He begs for a sip to finally wake up.
He looks around and shrugs, "I guess this is probably the only time I'll get this done. Plus that coffee is fucking hot." Andrew pulls out his cellphone and sets it up on the dashboard, ready to record for his promo in his upcoming match against Soul Reaver, Oblivion, and Eli Beazley. Andrew rolls down the window and presses record, he sits back as the steam from the coffee seeps out the window, away from his battered face from Soul Reaver and lingering affects from his match against Oblivion two weeks ago.
A light breeze, as burger wrapper bounces across the parking lot. Andrew Barnes watches every bounce until the wrapper finally journeys out of his view and away from the parking lot.
Still staring outside, looking away from the camera. A hue of morning blue covering the landscape, Andrew smirks and finally speaks, "Every rip. Every cut. EVERY BRUISE." He stops to turn his head towards the camera on the phone, "I can take this pain. This suffering." He sets his coffee down, "However.. I can NOT take cheap victories."
"Soul Reaver." Andrew Barnes, with a sincere look upon his face, "I am sorry. I watched the tapes from Metal and it makes me sick that my record has a victory such as this. I want to make my way in this business without these type of wins!" He slaps the car door to his side, "IT PISSES ME OFF!"
Andrew licks his lips and chuckles, "You know what? I'm not gonna accept that win, Soul Reaver."
He nods, "It's that simple. And considering that we have another match; why not make this one our official first match together? Let's just say the last one was a warmup? A mulligan."
Andrew goes into serious mode.
"You see, I don't want to look back at my career and have opponents with excuses as to why they lost to me. This isn't luck. This is shit. This is not the path I picked for myself. I want them to know that Andrew Barnes can adapt and overcome to any opponent out there; be it big or small.. Without cheating or any other fuck ups like this. I apologies to my fans and anyone who thinks I had any hand in this. I'll be speaking to Ned about it and see if we can clear any of this up with the community. This sort of stuff shouldn't happen."
"If this happened with Soul Reaver... then maybe it happened against Oblivion?" The feeling of doubt casts across Andrew's face. Thinking back at the match against Oblivion and if there was any foul play going on. A few seconds and the doubt fades. He shakes his head and gets back on track.
Andrew smiles into the camera, "How about this, Oblivion. Just like Soul Reaver.. I let that win on you slide. I also feel like you could've brought more to the table in that match. So this will be your second chance, buddy. This will basically be my first match here if I'm following through with this. Which is pretty sweet since my first match has the Breeze man himself.. Eli Beazley."
Andrew reaches down and ruffles through some garbage on the seat next to him. He takes out his wallet and lifts out to hold up a Breeziac fan club card to the phone camera, "Sure, it's not your official fan club, Eli. But that other one is full of weirdos and elitist. Not my cup of breeze, if you know what I mean." He places the card back into the wallet and sets it down.
"So yeah, I'm a fan. And it killed me when he lost his title to Giggles. Lucky for you, you get another chance at something totally better than the Junior Heavyweight title. But really, that sucks losing against Giggles." Andrew mentions.
"Giggles." Andrew shivers at the image of Giggles flashing in his head.
"Then again.. I never understood why a loser would get a better title shot after losing one below it?"
A slight smirk cracks at the edge of his mouth, "Don't get me wrong, Eli. I'm not calling you a loser. I just don't understand it. Why reward such failures? Hell, as a Breeziac, I expected better from you, Eli. That wasn't so breezy losing to a clown, buddy. I don't care how creepy Giggles can..SHIT IS THAT HIM OVER THERE!" Andrew jumps and points at an old lady with horrible makeup on, walking down the sidewalk.
Andrew pauses, he notices the smirk in the mirror, along with some paranoia in the eyes, as if another person is on the other end.
He chuckles, "Shit. Two wins and I'm already talking like those folks over at Action Wrestling."
"I'm still nothing here in Alpha Pro. Nothing. I shouldn't be gloating about a fishy victory and lucky win against two excellent superstars here. Now I think I can easily handle Eli Beazley? A former champion!? And scared of old ladies that look like Giggles? What the fuck, Andrew!?"
Andrew lifts up the Breeziac fan club once again, "And this shit!? IT'S FAKE!" He rips up the card.
"No matter how much I try to stay humble.. The egomaniac in me always leaks out!" Andrew smacks the steering wheel in a fit of rage, knowing his control is fading with every win.
"How can a man stay humble if he keeps winning!? Fucking cruel joke. That's what. I know all my opponents have what it takes to defeat me. I know that this simple two match winning streak is nothing and can end at Metal. But that little spot in the dark corner of my mind? That will grow with every victory. It will spread until I see nothing worthy of mention in my opponents. That all they have are their gimmicks. Not talent."
"I want my opponents at Metal to make this thinking. This path. End. I don't want to end up like the old farts that continue to believe in their own hype. I want my legacy to be different. I don't want to roam the halls looking for high fives. I want what I do here in this day and age to mean something, so that these halls can speak my name without having to remind them."
"Eli Beazley. Oblivion. Soul Reaver. Can one of you do me a solid and win? I don't want the North American title this early. And I really don't need to take away Jackson's title. I mean, that's a perfect title for him. America Jackson. North American title. Why take that away from him? It's perfect!"
He sighs, "I don't know what to think anymore, guys. My mind is split in two. I want to gloat, but I want to be someone people can look up to. Kids shouldn't be someone who thinks little of their fellow man. That shit leads to what we have today. Yet, I continue to prove myself wrong in thinking highly of my opponents. I think that I can't beat anyone... Yet, I walk out after every match with another notch under my belt. Why can't I be like my father in this part and just constantly lose?"
"Oh well, some things are out of our control. I'll continue to work on it. This industry doesn't need any more snarky heels."
He lifts his cup of coffee up, that is now cool enough to drink, and raises it up to the camera.
"Here's to ending my ego, guys."
Andrew Barnes takes a sip, "Ahh, that's the good stuff." He reaches over and touches the phone screen to turn off the recording.
A few cars begin to bring the parking lot to life, as Andrew Barnes sets his phone on the seat next to him and starts the car. He takes one last look around the parking lot and drives away. When he makes his way out of the lot, he passes the burger wrapper he was staring at early. It's stuck inside a crack in the wall, separating the McDonald's from the suburbs next to it. The breeze pushes the wrapper deeper and deeper until it barely crackles in the wind, fading away in the background as Andrew Barnes drives off.
