Post by Trent Page on Jun 30, 2019 19:55:59 GMT -5
BZZZZZT! BZZZZZT BZZZZZT!
Trent Page’s meaty hand swings through the air, and smashes itself down on top of the alarm clock, silencing it. He turns over, and tries to escape back to the dream he can barely remember, but it fades away into the fog. He turns again, only to find a beam of light filtering through his broken blinds, and falling across his eyes. He attempts to ignore it, but a knock at the door make that impossible. He lets out a low growl, but sits up, and sets his feet on the floor. Another set of knocks comes quickly, followed by the sound of Carter shouting through the flimsy door.
Carter:Mr. Page! Mr. Page! We gotta get goin’!
Trent:Yeah! I know! I’ll be out in a minute!
No sooner does the sentence come out of his mouth, than the small black phone on his side table rings. He grabs the device, and holds it to his ear.
Trent:Jesus fuck. What?!
The smooth baritone of Scott Savage comes from the other end, seemingly unfazed by Trent’s tone.
Scott:Have you left yet?
Trent:Yeah, like an hour ago.
Scott:Don’t lie to me.
Trent:Then don’t ask stupid questions.
Scott:Remind me again why you’re not just flying back with me?
Trent:I’m on the no-fly list, dumbass. Besides, I got some business to deal with before I take off.
Scott:Just remember you have a meet and greet at Savage Enterprises tomorrow at five, along with-
Trent:Calm the fuck down, Hellboy. You’re on a trial basis just like Cleeb here.
A faint voice comes from the other side of the door.
Carter:It’s Carter, sir.
Trent:You still got a lot to prove, Scott. I haven’t forgotten what you did. You make one misstep, and I’ll find another agent in a heartbeat. I still don’t need you. You’re a fucking luxury.
Scott:A luxury you can’t afford to do without. APW is a shark tank, and without my guidance, you’ll be ripped to shreds in no time. I’ve had this argument with you three times in the last week, I do not plan on having it again. There’s a reason you’re coming back to New Jersey, and it isn’t for the chinese food.
Trent:Fine, but don’t pretend like you don’t need me just as bad. I’ve been doing some reading. Your last three big roll outs flopped hard. Your reputation is circling the drain, and you need me to be a success to keep you going. I’m not an idiot, Scott. Don’t treat me like I am.
A silence, then a prolonged sigh from the other end.
Scott:Fine. You’re right. We’ve had some trouble recently. All the more reason to trust me, though. My destiny is tied to yours. If you fail, so do I.
This gives Trent pause. He stares at the floor for a moment, before Scott speaks again.
Scott:Now you’re doing that thing where you try to pretend I’m not right, but I am. Anyway, here’s what you’re going to do. You and Carter are going to head up here, and he’s going to film a good chunk of it. I want to get some footage for your DVD.
Trent:My what?
Scott:Your big comeback DVD. It’s going to be huge. We’re going to document the whole thing. It’s going to sell millions.
Trent:Jesus fucking christ.
Trent hangs the phone up and tosses it onto the bed. Shaking his head, he pulls a small backpack out from under the bed, and throws open his bedroom door. There he sees Carter standing with a frazzled look on his face, holding his own bag, along with the large, plastic camera case.
Carter:Sir, we was supposed to leave a half hour ago. I ain’t sure we’re gonna make it on time at this rate.
Trent walks past the young man, and out the front door, tossing his bag into his old, beat up Camaro. He then grabs two large, red, metal cans from the bed of the car/truck hybrid, and walks back into the trailer. He opens one of the cans, and immediately begins dousing the walls and carpet in a clear liquid, filling the trailer with an acrid scent.
Carter:What in the name of Saint Christopher are you doin’?!
Without waiting for an answer, he grabs his stuff, and runs out of the trailer, allowing Trent to finish soaking it in gasoline. He empties the second can on his way out the door, and tosses it back into the tiny building. He then produces a pack of matches from the pocket of his jeans, causing Carter to sprint away, and hide behind the car. Trent rolls his eyes, before striking one match, and using it to light the rest of the pack. He stares at the large flame for a moment, before tossing it through the door. It’s not long before the inside of the trailer is engulfed in fire. Black smoke comes rolling out the door and windows, as flames lick their way up the sides of his former home, turning everything black. Trent climbs into the car, and fires it up without looking back at the inferno. Carter’s eyes, however, are locked on the blazing trailer. The reflection of the flames dance in his eyes, as they make their way through the small clearing, onto the main dirt road. After a few minutes, Carter finally gathers himself enough to speak.
Carter:What was that all about?!
Trent:Don’t worry about it.
Carter:You spilled some on me!
Trent:You’re fine. Jesus, calm down. It’ll evaporate quick enough. I barely splashed you.
They fly down the road, kicking up a cloud of thick yellow dust behind them. The roar of the engine the only sound on this impossibly hot Georgia day.
Carter:Maybe we should get to filmin’. Mr. Savage said he wanted-
Trent:Mr. Savage isn’t my boss. And he’s not your boss either, I am. Let me ask you a question. Did you wanna be a podcaster when you were growing up?
Carter gives the man a confused stare, still clearly shaken from the act of arson he just saw.
Carter:I...I guess not.
Trent:What did you wanna be?
Carter:Tell yuh the truth sir, I always wanted to be a wrestler.
Trent:And what happened? You failed.
Carter:I mean, I dunno if I’d say it like that.
Trent:I don’t mean to be a dick about it. I’m just saying, you’re not a wrestler, are you?
Carter:No sir.
Trent:And what about Lucy Sixx?
Carter:I don’t reckon I follow. Are you doin’ a promo right now?
I really should be filmin’ this.
Trent rolls his eyes, and merges onto the freeway, giving the finger to a driver that he nearly ran off the road.
Trent:Fine, whatever.
Carter’s excited fingers fumble with the case, struggling to pull the camera out. He aims it at a clearly annoyed Trent, and turns it on.
Trent:Look, all I’m saying is that Lucy Sixx obviously didn’t grow up wanting to wrestle. This is her second choice, just like podcasting is your second choice. Do you know what my second choice was?...Me either. Ever since I was young, all I’ve known is how to fight. Some kids look at wrestling and see a big cartoon with muscle men fighting each other. I looked at wrestling, and saw a way out. I saw a way I could turn the one talent I had into a career, and a future. Two things I never thought I’d have. Now let me ask you this, if you were putting down money, would you put it on the former rockstar who stumbled into wrestling, or the man who grew up knowing he was built to fight?
Trent weaves in and out of traffic, going far too fast for the crowded road. Carter tries to keep his eye on the camera, stammering out a question.
Carter:You don’t think she deserves a little more respect? She’s beaten some damn good wrestlers.
Trent:Fair enough. I’m not writing her off. Far from it. She’s fast, and lord knows she’ll sacrifice her body. I’m not saying she doesn’t belong here. The thing is, I’ve been doing this for twenty years, and before that, I was dreaming of this. Through all my activism, all my rabble rousing, all the dangerous shit I’ve pulled, none of it has come before wrestling. Not for a second. I eat, sleep, and breathe this business. Honestly, it’s not even that Lucy has just started in this business. It’s not about her age, or her experience. I look into her eyes, and I see a woman lost. When the cameras are on, she’s very good at putting on a brave, cocky exterior, but when I look into her eyes, I know she’s lost. She’s not sure where her life is going. She’s just jumping from train car to train car, hoping it works out, and so far it has. So far…
Trent pauses to narrowly avoid an accident, and swerve onto another ramp, making his exit onto another freeway, this one heading north. He checks his rearview with suspicious eyes, before turning his attention back to the camera.
Trent:The problem with jumping train car to train car is that eventually, you get caught. Eventually, people find out you don’t belong where you are, that you’re just a stowaway. Because that’s what Lucy is, she’s a stowaway on the rail car that is professional wrestling. It’s all been smooth for her up until now. Problem is her luck just ran out. It ran out the second the bookers wrote her name next to mine on the sheet. I’m not someone you can just slip past by being quick and charming. See, Lucy is exactly the kind of wide eyed, non committal, hanger on that I came back to eliminate.
Trent checks his rear view mirror again. This time he seems to see something that bothers him. He presses down harder on the gas, sending the vehicle flying between two mini vans.
Trent:The thing you have to understand is that she’s not special. She’s exactly like half the roster. She’s just another moon faced twenty something, drifting through life on the path of least resistance. Doing whatever she can to avoid the spectre of meaninglessness. It’s not that I don’t respect her for trying, and succeeding to some extent. It’s impressive… to some. I, however, am not easily impressed. I’ve seen damn near everything this ridiculous business has to offer, and that includes plenty of little girls just like Lucy. None of them last, and I don’t see anything that makes me think she’s any different.
Trent weaves through a few more cars, seemingly losing the thing that was chasing them. He checks the mirrors a few more times, his eyes darting between them and the road ahead. He doesn’t let his focus move, but he does continue his speech.
Trent:Look, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter to me who she’s beaten, because none of them are me. What matters to me is who she is. What matters to me is the two people who are gonna be in that ring on Monday. It’s not Steven Osbourne, and it’s not Dean Wolf. It’s Trent fucking Page. It’s a man who has absolutely nothing else. Professional wrestling lives inside of me. Hurting other people for a living is all I’ve ever known. Lucy can be as naturally gifted as she wants. None of that is going to match up to my experience. None of that is gonna matter in the face of my determination. None of her raw talent is gonna mean a thing now that I’ve decided her branch must be pruned. She is part of the problem, and I will destroy her on monday. That’s all there is to it.
Trent peaks in his rearview, and once more, terror shows on his face. The car speeds up, flying right past a bridge with a police car hidden underneath. They don’t travel much farther, before the red and blue lights start flashing.
Trent:Son of a bitch. Stop recording and hold on! This isn’t gonna be fun for anyone involved.
They speed down the highway, the police car now in pursuit. They bob in and out of traffic, trying to lose him, but he manages to stay with them. They narrowly avoid an accident, as Trent pulls off the freeway, onto a small, unkempt road. The frame of the car rattles around them, as they hit the uneven pavement. Eventually it turns into a dirt road, which causes both cars to slide a bit more as the police car stays close, not allowing to let itself get lost in the dust cloud.
Trent:Hey, hey Cooter. See those cinder blocks down there? Grab one and toss it out the sunroof!
Carter can only sit frozen, staring at him in disbelief.
Trent:You wanna end up in jail?! No? Then throw the fucking brick!
This time Carter obeys, almost automatically. He struggles to lift the heavy gray block, but manages to toss it out the roof of the car. It hits the gravel in front of the cop, who manages to swerve around it, and continue chasing them.
Trent:Don’t just sit there! Throw another one!
Carter lifts another cinder block. The police vehicle isn’t as quick this time. The cinder block bounces underneath it, slamming hard into the machinery underneath. Trent watches in the mirror as the car dies, and fades into the distance behind them. Trent lets out a celebratory shout, but doesn’t allow himself to slow down.
Trent:Hell yes! Alright, fire that camera back up, I got one last thing to say.
Carter does as he’s told, recording Trent once more.
Trent:Look, I’m not trying to shrug you off, Lucy. You’re good, and you might very well win on Monday, but that’s not the point. It’s not about whether you win or lose. It’s about whether or not you survive. You see, I’m not here to beat you. I’m here to see if you belong here. I’m here to test everything you have. I am the human embodiment of survival of the fittest, and this monday, we’re going to find out if you’re part of the next step in human evolution, or a mistake that should be left to drown in the shallow waters of your own gene pool. This monday, you receive a visit from wrestling’s angel of death, and whether you win or not, whether you survive or not, you will not leave that ring the same little girl that walked in. I promise you that. Prepare yourself. Existence as you know it has never been more fleeting.
Trent pulls them back onto the freeway, as Carter shuts the camera down. The rest of their trip goes relatively smoothly. Trent drives the entire way in one go, his eyes darting between the road in front, and the road behind them the entire trip. His mind dancing with the violent things he’s going to do to Lucy Sixx, as Carter snores away in the passenger seat. It’s three in the morning when they pull up to the obscenely tall skyscraper that houses Savage Enterprises. Out in front, beneath a large street light, stands the lanky figure of Scott Savage. Trent climbs out of the driver’s side to face the man.
Scott:Are you ready to work?
Trent:More than ever.
Trent Page’s meaty hand swings through the air, and smashes itself down on top of the alarm clock, silencing it. He turns over, and tries to escape back to the dream he can barely remember, but it fades away into the fog. He turns again, only to find a beam of light filtering through his broken blinds, and falling across his eyes. He attempts to ignore it, but a knock at the door make that impossible. He lets out a low growl, but sits up, and sets his feet on the floor. Another set of knocks comes quickly, followed by the sound of Carter shouting through the flimsy door.
Carter:Mr. Page! Mr. Page! We gotta get goin’!
Trent:Yeah! I know! I’ll be out in a minute!
No sooner does the sentence come out of his mouth, than the small black phone on his side table rings. He grabs the device, and holds it to his ear.
Trent:Jesus fuck. What?!
The smooth baritone of Scott Savage comes from the other end, seemingly unfazed by Trent’s tone.
Scott:Have you left yet?
Trent:Yeah, like an hour ago.
Scott:Don’t lie to me.
Trent:Then don’t ask stupid questions.
Scott:Remind me again why you’re not just flying back with me?
Trent:I’m on the no-fly list, dumbass. Besides, I got some business to deal with before I take off.
Scott:Just remember you have a meet and greet at Savage Enterprises tomorrow at five, along with-
Trent:Calm the fuck down, Hellboy. You’re on a trial basis just like Cleeb here.
A faint voice comes from the other side of the door.
Carter:It’s Carter, sir.
Trent:You still got a lot to prove, Scott. I haven’t forgotten what you did. You make one misstep, and I’ll find another agent in a heartbeat. I still don’t need you. You’re a fucking luxury.
Scott:A luxury you can’t afford to do without. APW is a shark tank, and without my guidance, you’ll be ripped to shreds in no time. I’ve had this argument with you three times in the last week, I do not plan on having it again. There’s a reason you’re coming back to New Jersey, and it isn’t for the chinese food.
Trent:Fine, but don’t pretend like you don’t need me just as bad. I’ve been doing some reading. Your last three big roll outs flopped hard. Your reputation is circling the drain, and you need me to be a success to keep you going. I’m not an idiot, Scott. Don’t treat me like I am.
A silence, then a prolonged sigh from the other end.
Scott:Fine. You’re right. We’ve had some trouble recently. All the more reason to trust me, though. My destiny is tied to yours. If you fail, so do I.
This gives Trent pause. He stares at the floor for a moment, before Scott speaks again.
Scott:Now you’re doing that thing where you try to pretend I’m not right, but I am. Anyway, here’s what you’re going to do. You and Carter are going to head up here, and he’s going to film a good chunk of it. I want to get some footage for your DVD.
Trent:My what?
Scott:Your big comeback DVD. It’s going to be huge. We’re going to document the whole thing. It’s going to sell millions.
Trent:Jesus fucking christ.
Trent hangs the phone up and tosses it onto the bed. Shaking his head, he pulls a small backpack out from under the bed, and throws open his bedroom door. There he sees Carter standing with a frazzled look on his face, holding his own bag, along with the large, plastic camera case.
Carter:Sir, we was supposed to leave a half hour ago. I ain’t sure we’re gonna make it on time at this rate.
Trent walks past the young man, and out the front door, tossing his bag into his old, beat up Camaro. He then grabs two large, red, metal cans from the bed of the car/truck hybrid, and walks back into the trailer. He opens one of the cans, and immediately begins dousing the walls and carpet in a clear liquid, filling the trailer with an acrid scent.
Carter:What in the name of Saint Christopher are you doin’?!
Without waiting for an answer, he grabs his stuff, and runs out of the trailer, allowing Trent to finish soaking it in gasoline. He empties the second can on his way out the door, and tosses it back into the tiny building. He then produces a pack of matches from the pocket of his jeans, causing Carter to sprint away, and hide behind the car. Trent rolls his eyes, before striking one match, and using it to light the rest of the pack. He stares at the large flame for a moment, before tossing it through the door. It’s not long before the inside of the trailer is engulfed in fire. Black smoke comes rolling out the door and windows, as flames lick their way up the sides of his former home, turning everything black. Trent climbs into the car, and fires it up without looking back at the inferno. Carter’s eyes, however, are locked on the blazing trailer. The reflection of the flames dance in his eyes, as they make their way through the small clearing, onto the main dirt road. After a few minutes, Carter finally gathers himself enough to speak.
Carter:What was that all about?!
Trent:Don’t worry about it.
Carter:You spilled some on me!
Trent:You’re fine. Jesus, calm down. It’ll evaporate quick enough. I barely splashed you.
They fly down the road, kicking up a cloud of thick yellow dust behind them. The roar of the engine the only sound on this impossibly hot Georgia day.
Carter:Maybe we should get to filmin’. Mr. Savage said he wanted-
Trent:Mr. Savage isn’t my boss. And he’s not your boss either, I am. Let me ask you a question. Did you wanna be a podcaster when you were growing up?
Carter gives the man a confused stare, still clearly shaken from the act of arson he just saw.
Carter:I...I guess not.
Trent:What did you wanna be?
Carter:Tell yuh the truth sir, I always wanted to be a wrestler.
Trent:And what happened? You failed.
Carter:I mean, I dunno if I’d say it like that.
Trent:I don’t mean to be a dick about it. I’m just saying, you’re not a wrestler, are you?
Carter:No sir.
Trent:And what about Lucy Sixx?
Carter:I don’t reckon I follow. Are you doin’ a promo right now?
I really should be filmin’ this.
Trent rolls his eyes, and merges onto the freeway, giving the finger to a driver that he nearly ran off the road.
Trent:Fine, whatever.
Carter’s excited fingers fumble with the case, struggling to pull the camera out. He aims it at a clearly annoyed Trent, and turns it on.
Trent:Look, all I’m saying is that Lucy Sixx obviously didn’t grow up wanting to wrestle. This is her second choice, just like podcasting is your second choice. Do you know what my second choice was?...Me either. Ever since I was young, all I’ve known is how to fight. Some kids look at wrestling and see a big cartoon with muscle men fighting each other. I looked at wrestling, and saw a way out. I saw a way I could turn the one talent I had into a career, and a future. Two things I never thought I’d have. Now let me ask you this, if you were putting down money, would you put it on the former rockstar who stumbled into wrestling, or the man who grew up knowing he was built to fight?
Trent weaves in and out of traffic, going far too fast for the crowded road. Carter tries to keep his eye on the camera, stammering out a question.
Carter:You don’t think she deserves a little more respect? She’s beaten some damn good wrestlers.
Trent:Fair enough. I’m not writing her off. Far from it. She’s fast, and lord knows she’ll sacrifice her body. I’m not saying she doesn’t belong here. The thing is, I’ve been doing this for twenty years, and before that, I was dreaming of this. Through all my activism, all my rabble rousing, all the dangerous shit I’ve pulled, none of it has come before wrestling. Not for a second. I eat, sleep, and breathe this business. Honestly, it’s not even that Lucy has just started in this business. It’s not about her age, or her experience. I look into her eyes, and I see a woman lost. When the cameras are on, she’s very good at putting on a brave, cocky exterior, but when I look into her eyes, I know she’s lost. She’s not sure where her life is going. She’s just jumping from train car to train car, hoping it works out, and so far it has. So far…
Trent pauses to narrowly avoid an accident, and swerve onto another ramp, making his exit onto another freeway, this one heading north. He checks his rearview with suspicious eyes, before turning his attention back to the camera.
Trent:The problem with jumping train car to train car is that eventually, you get caught. Eventually, people find out you don’t belong where you are, that you’re just a stowaway. Because that’s what Lucy is, she’s a stowaway on the rail car that is professional wrestling. It’s all been smooth for her up until now. Problem is her luck just ran out. It ran out the second the bookers wrote her name next to mine on the sheet. I’m not someone you can just slip past by being quick and charming. See, Lucy is exactly the kind of wide eyed, non committal, hanger on that I came back to eliminate.
Trent checks his rear view mirror again. This time he seems to see something that bothers him. He presses down harder on the gas, sending the vehicle flying between two mini vans.
Trent:The thing you have to understand is that she’s not special. She’s exactly like half the roster. She’s just another moon faced twenty something, drifting through life on the path of least resistance. Doing whatever she can to avoid the spectre of meaninglessness. It’s not that I don’t respect her for trying, and succeeding to some extent. It’s impressive… to some. I, however, am not easily impressed. I’ve seen damn near everything this ridiculous business has to offer, and that includes plenty of little girls just like Lucy. None of them last, and I don’t see anything that makes me think she’s any different.
Trent weaves through a few more cars, seemingly losing the thing that was chasing them. He checks the mirrors a few more times, his eyes darting between them and the road ahead. He doesn’t let his focus move, but he does continue his speech.
Trent:Look, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter to me who she’s beaten, because none of them are me. What matters to me is who she is. What matters to me is the two people who are gonna be in that ring on Monday. It’s not Steven Osbourne, and it’s not Dean Wolf. It’s Trent fucking Page. It’s a man who has absolutely nothing else. Professional wrestling lives inside of me. Hurting other people for a living is all I’ve ever known. Lucy can be as naturally gifted as she wants. None of that is going to match up to my experience. None of that is gonna matter in the face of my determination. None of her raw talent is gonna mean a thing now that I’ve decided her branch must be pruned. She is part of the problem, and I will destroy her on monday. That’s all there is to it.
Trent peaks in his rearview, and once more, terror shows on his face. The car speeds up, flying right past a bridge with a police car hidden underneath. They don’t travel much farther, before the red and blue lights start flashing.
Trent:Son of a bitch. Stop recording and hold on! This isn’t gonna be fun for anyone involved.
They speed down the highway, the police car now in pursuit. They bob in and out of traffic, trying to lose him, but he manages to stay with them. They narrowly avoid an accident, as Trent pulls off the freeway, onto a small, unkempt road. The frame of the car rattles around them, as they hit the uneven pavement. Eventually it turns into a dirt road, which causes both cars to slide a bit more as the police car stays close, not allowing to let itself get lost in the dust cloud.
Trent:Hey, hey Cooter. See those cinder blocks down there? Grab one and toss it out the sunroof!
Carter can only sit frozen, staring at him in disbelief.
Trent:You wanna end up in jail?! No? Then throw the fucking brick!
This time Carter obeys, almost automatically. He struggles to lift the heavy gray block, but manages to toss it out the roof of the car. It hits the gravel in front of the cop, who manages to swerve around it, and continue chasing them.
Trent:Don’t just sit there! Throw another one!
Carter lifts another cinder block. The police vehicle isn’t as quick this time. The cinder block bounces underneath it, slamming hard into the machinery underneath. Trent watches in the mirror as the car dies, and fades into the distance behind them. Trent lets out a celebratory shout, but doesn’t allow himself to slow down.
Trent:Hell yes! Alright, fire that camera back up, I got one last thing to say.
Carter does as he’s told, recording Trent once more.
Trent:Look, I’m not trying to shrug you off, Lucy. You’re good, and you might very well win on Monday, but that’s not the point. It’s not about whether you win or lose. It’s about whether or not you survive. You see, I’m not here to beat you. I’m here to see if you belong here. I’m here to test everything you have. I am the human embodiment of survival of the fittest, and this monday, we’re going to find out if you’re part of the next step in human evolution, or a mistake that should be left to drown in the shallow waters of your own gene pool. This monday, you receive a visit from wrestling’s angel of death, and whether you win or not, whether you survive or not, you will not leave that ring the same little girl that walked in. I promise you that. Prepare yourself. Existence as you know it has never been more fleeting.
Trent pulls them back onto the freeway, as Carter shuts the camera down. The rest of their trip goes relatively smoothly. Trent drives the entire way in one go, his eyes darting between the road in front, and the road behind them the entire trip. His mind dancing with the violent things he’s going to do to Lucy Sixx, as Carter snores away in the passenger seat. It’s three in the morning when they pull up to the obscenely tall skyscraper that houses Savage Enterprises. Out in front, beneath a large street light, stands the lanky figure of Scott Savage. Trent climbs out of the driver’s side to face the man.
Scott:Are you ready to work?
Trent:More than ever.
