Post by sincmercier on Aug 24, 2013 0:12:52 GMT -6
The Orpheum Theater in San Francisco, so beautiful, so serene, so…gigantic! What better way to express yourself and blow off some steam than in a giant empty space where no one can hear you scream? Hey that rhymed, even though it wasn’t supposed to. And Sinc wasn’t entirely alone in the theater setting, he was with Henry as they walked about the stage in a trance like state gawking at the place. Sinc had seen some awesome shows here in the past, and was almost part of a comedy routine here himself at one point, but that was just after his father’s death, and he couldn’t take the gig due to making the decision to be a professional wrestler. Living in San Francisco for a good part of his life though, he knew it was home for him. It wasn’t his home town, but it was his current residence, and he felt connected not only with the community, but with the buildings, the structures, the memories he’s shared. In his mind, he was definitely a resident and part of the city’s great mix of people. Henry didn’t like San Francisco as much as Sinc did, he always thought it was a dirty city with a lot of hippies and sexual freaks.
England was Henry’s true home and place of residence, and he missed it every day. He was just finishing a degree in business before Sinc dragged him along as his manager and agent and convinced him to come to the states with lots of cash and a very determined spirit that he was truly going to help Sinc achieve success; he couldn’t find it in his heart to really say no to that, even after the whole mishap of how they met on violent terms. But he did have respect and fascination for places like the Orpheum Theater in such a city, he loved the architecture and often thought how such gems were made. It was a mystery to him. Both him and Sinc’s eyes were all over the place scanning the area and admiring everything. Henry ofcourse still wasn’t quite sure why they were here yet.
And before he got a chance to ask, Sinc interjected.
Sinc: We’re here in one of the oldest best kept secrets in the history of legendary San Francisco, California. Hear it, see it, smell it, it’s a special experience Henry!
Henry: Special as in, retarded special? I’m actually quite bored already.
Sinc: Suck it up. I had alotta good times here, plenty of good laughs with my old man when I was into comedy, I always begged him to take me to every production they put on here, seventy five percent of the time he’d say yes, but not without beating the snot out of me for bugging him about it all the time. Now look at me.
Henry eyes Sinc as if he is staring at an alien. Once again he was adding a spin of sarcasm and debauchery to one of Sinc’s inclined statements. His torn jeans, his white V neck, his rugged five o' clock shadow, yes, Sinc was a HIDEOUS alien.
Henry: OHHHH so YOU’RE the retarded special experience. Got it mate.
Sinc doesn’t even appear slightly amused by the comment and gets to the point in fear of making Henry’s brain rupture from boredom and history lessons.
Sinc: No, I mean now I’m a pro wrestler. I’m on the golden road to success. I’ve moved on and accepted that the past cannot be a place I can hang around. So I lost. Boohoo. I nearly beat Cannon by a testicle hair, everyone knows it. And I know he WAS scared to face me, I saw it in the way he moved around that ring, I was David, he was Goliath. And yet I get beat by a f*cking small package of all things. What do I look like, a delivery man!?! KNOCK KNOCK, I don't look good in sh*t brown short shorts thank you very much. I'll face him again though, and he WILL lose. But regardless, after that last match, now I am startin to get dem crazy eyes from people backstage. They know I mean business. But take that pale skinned and bucked teeth mug of yours and look at this empty stage, it sends a message.
Henry refuses to play ball and keeps his gaze at Sinc. He wasn't gonna keep his eyes off of the newcomer to Exodus, he felt obligated to watch him like a nanny to a suckling babe. Sinc usually didn't take losses well, and Henry was always the one to go to for calming him down. Anything could happen, Sinc could explode at any second and he wasn't about to clean up his chunks of flesh everywhere. And not on such a clean stage! Oh sh*t, he looked at the stage after all! WHAT A TWIST! Henry always grew quite impatient when it came to Sinc's tirades of the loony bin, so in this case, he was going to call Sinc what he had always called him, insane.
Henry: Now you’re just whacko. There’s medication for this you know.
Sinc points downwards to the stage and emphasizes its importance. The countless people that have stepped foot on this place, filled with talent, filled with passion. It was sacred ground to the few and the proud that could perform on it.
Sinc: Conan O’ Brien…Bill Graham….Bob Dylan…the greats and the legends of what made entertainment so amazing. Think about it. This stage right here, isn’t much different than a wrestling ring. You get to tread on a space that has been graced by the presence of so many amazing and talented performers…wrestlers…that brought the house down and pumped up sold out arenas. Not long ago even, Exodus Pro at Endgame saw its only SECOND EVER female world champion Heather Halliwell own the joint as a featherweight and earned that title belt! It saw the powerhouses of a tag team, The Ninth Gate claim team gold and impress the world with their victory. That ring has been the gateway and the portal to new and old champions alike, rising stars, falling stars, the injured and the quitters. It’s a journey in and of itself.
Sinc walks around the stage taking in the space as his own and stretching his arms out as if there was indeed a packed house full of people watching him talk, feeding off his words, and giving him their eyes and attention. He could see them now, chanting, cheering him, praising him for being the one superstar they have waited so long for to give them someone to really root for again.
Sinc...
Sinc.....
SINC!
Henry didn’t get it. He looks down apathetically clearly seeing that it is just a wooden square in his mind just like the ring was just a square with some ropes attached. He wasn’t feeling what Sinc was feeling. And he didn’t mind that. They were both very different either way you slice the metaphorical cake. Mmmm…mouth watering…metaphorical cake.
Henry: SINC!
It’s just a square. You are once again over thinking things. Don’t let your match loss with Johnny Cannon get you thinking madness. Getting your hopes up and using silly and frankly quite childish comparisons isn’t going to get you the win on the next bout either.
Getting hopes up? Sinc doesn't grow his little corn field of hopes and dreams, he doesn't plow its land, and he doesn't till the soil. That sh*t grows itself, he just watches as the resources come flooding in. And when his hands are ripe with deliciousness, he reaps the benefits and he uses every inch to get him through the pains and tribulations of being a pro wrestler. Yeah, that's right, Old Macdonald don't got jack on Sinc Mercier and his farm hyperbole. Fly away crows, cause he done scared the piss outta ya. Dang, these fancy word styles just keep piling up. SUPER VOCABULARY FOR THE WIN!
Sinc: Let me finish. See, Johnny Cannon is one of those champions who jumped in that ring and won his belt without a second thought of how, of why, of what got him there to begin with, and he was even a tag champion at one point in his day. He’s got a veteran’s craft that’s for damn sure, but now that I see things a little more clearly after my loss, and understand how important a stage is, let alone a wrestling ring, it’s make or break Henry. If I lose twice in a row, I’m disgracing all those victors who ever entered that proving ground and telling them that by losing AGAIN, I've given up my future. I've given up my chance to make an impression on the true soldiers of the ring. I'd be throwing in the towel before I even get out of the god damned shower. I would never make my first imprint into that mat, and it would leave a bad taste in my mouth. Granted, my opponents don't wanna lose either, especially not to a rookie like me, so that just goes to show, we all got our reasons.
Sinc stands in thought for a moment, thinking about laying down on that canvas in a daze after being pulverized by Cannon and not hearing the end of it, being unable to establish himself on the radar of the locker room or the minds of the fans. What sort of man would he be, if he laid down and let himself get beaten by yet another upset. He would be stuck at the bottom of the ocean of failure with the clown fish and the sea sponges, soaking up an abyss of nothing but water floating around in endless meandering while the sharks and the piranhas are swimming at the top itching for more prey. Although it would be pretty cool if Sinc was a fish of any kind really. Yeah…that’d be totally awesome.
Sinc: I may have said that winning isn’t all that matters, and that’s true, but as an under dog, you need to establish yourself. If I do bad this next time, I certainly wouldn't be a great example to Exodus fans, I'd be the grandmas and grandpas brunch meals. It’s about time I get out of second best, and step into full throttle. Because sometimes Henry, it’s the losers who put the big boys and the well acclaimed back into the end of the line where they belong. It's that drive for doing better, motivating yourself after coming so close. And what sucks for everyone else is, I'm a losing wrestler now. I'm not everyone's prime choice to win the latter. It's like I'm f*cking contaminated, like that scene from World War Z when the guy walks through an ass load of zombies after poisoning himself and they don't touch him cause he's sick. I'm swaying in the masses right there with him. Because if I win against these two other guys, guess what? They are now, at the end of the line. And I get F*CKING healed baby!
Sinc tilts his head up with his chin held high. Now being filled with a hope, a glorified confidence that doing better is a given. He's just testing the waters right now, and after his first match, he currently has an idea of how cold that water is, and how deep it really goes. He definitely has a lot to swim in.
Sinc: It's a miracle! I mean, how do you reach the unattainable? How do you stop a whole battalion of people who've been through hell and proven their worth while you're the injured guy on the sidelines being reassigned to a desk somewhere off the battlefield? That's how I feel Henry. I've been reduced to a wounded warrior on a laptop. I'll tell you how, you get back in there! You push yourself so hard until it hurts, until all your muscles give out and your fingers and toes break off. You go until your spirit dies and your heart tears. And when you face a sorcerer of the craft known as wrestling, with all his powers that be and his epic tier 5 gear, you find the f*ckin genie that gave him his power, and put him back in the stupid lamp.
Henry lets out a moan of complete annoyance and wonders exactly why he is still tolerating Sinc's chatter.
Henry: Oh just f*cking lovely. We're back to video games now, and apparently, you threw a little bit of A f*ckin Laddin in there too with the genie rubbish. Fantastic. Let's go make a movie of a genie playing a video game while wanking himself until his fingers and toes break off in the middle of a war zone? How's that? Gonna make you happy eh?
Sinc. Stop. Just stop. Get a hold of yourself, wake up and smell the roses, you are not the veteran anymore, you're a low card classless little man, no, you're not even a little man, you're a midget, a dwarf to these giants. And they have massive c*cks. JUST HUGE! And their jizzing ALL over you! It's JUST everywhere!
Henry paces to Sinc now and grabs his shoulders forcing Sinc to make contact with Henry's pupils, which are slightly dilated, as he now is the one talking. And for once, it seems Sinc is actually listening. GREAT JOB HENRY! Henry is shaking Sinc now, not caring for physical boundaries, he felt he really needed to snap Sinc out of it.
Henry: Sinc, I love you. I do. And as a friend who loves you in a non sexual way, I am telling you. Get a grip man. Focus. It's a sport. It's competitive. Sh*t happens. Hell, you're gonna get sh*t ON. Don't think too much, just be...Sinc. Be loveable. Because right now, you're pretty pathetic and way too dramatic with your words. For christ's sake, NOBODY IS HERE BUT ME! So accept the facts, and onward you go!
For a few brief moments it seems yes, Sinc was listening, but he started to slowly avert his gaze to just over Henry's head. It was like he saw a ghost. He was staring at the balcony seating in the theater some feet away and winced his eyes. He swears he saw the ghost of his father staring down at him with a serious gaunt. His mind started to linger elsewhere, no longer present to Henry's lecture, but instead, in another plane entirely. He remembered the days of his youth...he remembered his dad....he remembered it all....the moment he decided to resent his father until the day of his death.
Ladies and gentlemen, we have now entered the mind of Sinc Mercier. And it's quite a dangerous place indeed.
I see...I see my lawn. I see, my old dog gnawing on the freshly cut grass. I see, my father with me. And I feel...pain. I am at a day long ago in my past, it was summer, and it was in my family's home. Oh, it's my garage! I can still smell the asbestos from the leaky roof. And there's the torn wrestling mat in the middle of the floor, and our punching bags, and dumbbells! Man this is wild! Oh..no...I remember this day. My father was forcing me to wrestle him. To show me how it's done. I was...in tears. I was just twelve years old. I hated him ever since.
Dad: Don't be a f*cking pussy son! Defend yourself! Show me I raised a son and not a little god damned girl.
He lifted me up. Again. And again. Suplexes. Takedowns. Grounded punches. Bashing my head into the ground. He just wouldn't stop. He didn't want to. He didn't have to. I WAS a pussy back then. I took the pain like a whiny little bastard.
Sinc: Dad, knock it off! I'm bleeding. I can't fight back! I can't. You won't let me!
That just pissed him off even more.
Dad: Can't is a quittin word son!
Sinc: No. NO!
And in a flash, he laid down one more punch on me right between the eyes after taking me back down to the mat, and knocked me out cold. I remember very little after that. Except during the same day, I do recall sitting on the couch watching football with the assh*le, and my mother coming home seeing me full of bruises and gauze in my nose to stop it from bleeding. Did she ask what happened? Oh...yeah, yeah she did. But my dad bluffed.
Mom: Oh dear child, what in good heavens happened to you?
She knelt down next to me and cupped my head into her hands. I miss her touch. So, so much. Always warm, always welcoming, she was my mom. My hero. But my dad? He's another story entirely.
Dad: He got in a fight with one of the neighborhood kids. But don't worry honey, I squared it all away. Our boy's gonna be fine. He's tough, aren't ya kid?
What was I supposed to say? I couldn't be honest, or else next time my dad would put me in the hospital for defying him. So I lied. I had to.
Sinc: Ye...yeah. I'm fine mom.
Mom: Oh damn that Billy down the street, I should have a word with his parents myself! I'm so sorry sweet pea, my little angel doesn't deserve to be pushed around. I'm glad your father took care of it. Now let me go get some ice right away.
She leaves the room and my dad cuts me a devilish grin. The kinda smile that breaks mirrors and then a buncha little cockroaches flee from the teeth of it. He ruffled my hair and winked at me. My face was red with anger. I was livid. I wanted to kill him. I swore I would. But karma caught up to him obviously, and I guess....I guess I kinda got my wish.
Annnnnnddddddd WE'RE BACK INTO THE REAL WORLD!
Sinc's thoughts are interrupted by Henry's rising tone of voice. Sinc shakes his head and stares out at the same spot he had thought he saw the ghost of his father at. But there was nothing there now. Just Henry's squabbling and loudness. Yup, he was back alright, and a part of him didn't want to be.
Henry: Sinc...are you listening to me? Cause I thought you were for a bit there. I didn't mean to sound so....prickish. Well...actually I did. But you needed to hear it.
Sinc shoves Henry's hands away and off his shoulders. He then slowly walks away from him and places a hand on his head as if trying to suppress a migraine. After a few rubs of his forehead he stares into the bright lights of the theater as if questioning why he would feel so haunted by his dad, why he would have such an experience now. After some thought, he blows it off, and reminds himself what his current goal is. Why he's really in Exodus, and why pro wrestling is his true path. He gets back in his groove.
Sinc: Henry, I heard you, and I will be very frank here.
Sinc turns around, storms to his British pal, and leans into Henry's right ear as if trying to tell a secret, then completely surprises him with a raging yell.
Sinc: DON'T...F*CKING..TOUCH ME!
Sinc dusts off his shoulders and cracks his neck. He turns to the array of empty seats in front of him and once more pretends there are people lining them. He was a man on fire now, and his edge has recently returned. He is now over the hump of loserville, and back on the focused road to stardom. He walks arrogantly back and forth, staring at these chairs and choosing his words very carefully.
Sinc: If there were people here....this is what I'd tell them about me and my next match. About my opponents. About why I do...what I do. Ya see, the story of Sinc Mercier is a simple one. I grew up a depressed and sh*tty kid with big ambitions of comedy fame, and seasoned into one of those muscular dudes you see on TV. And back then kids like me wondered, why are they hugging themselves in underwear?
Come on, everyone's thought that at one point. Don't deny it.
Sinc: The answer is simple. I became a pro wrestler not for my father, not because when he was dying on his death bed that's what he wanted for me. I became a wrestler because I wanted to show everyone I can do anything, that I can be good at something I hated, and conquer it! Can my opponents say that, REALLY? Can they really be that prophetic with their reason for entering that ring? That untamed territory? One of em, known as, Grendel, no, I'm sorry, Wulf, which sounds like something I chant to with a bunch of Cherokee Indians in the mountains of who gives a f*ck. Besides, what are you, schizophrenic? Are you a Furby with a pumpkin mask or are you a whale with a mohawk? Henry, help me out here.
Sinc etches his head back looking at Henry for a quick second to get an opinion. He had to have something clever to say in regards to Sinc's matchups, he usually does.
Henry: He's the dick in a box guy.
Well THAT wasn't restrained commentating at all.
Sinc: YES! BINGO! Wulf is...the dick in the box guy. He's just waiting for some innocent person to prance over to him on Halloween with his mask and his getup, then they reach into his box, and SURPRISE! He takes his mask off, gets all wet and excited, and becomes even scarier than he was with it on! And here's a hint, It's not a Jolly Rancher in that box guys.
OH SNAP! Someone call Child Services, it's a scandal!
Henry: BADUM...CHA! DICK IN THE BOX GUY!
Sinc stifles a laugh, but quickly readjusts to his focused mindset to the invisible crowd. He kinda liked venting the way that he is, he didn't have the issue of possible negative reactions from people and overbearing noises from the Tourette's cases who can't sit still in the audience.
Sinc: Really though, Wulf, I have to respect you even after the whole identity crisis because you are one hundred present a pure original bundle of crazy. You walked that fine line of horror hand job, and then went full circle back to just plain old you, a scruffy fighter with a cause. And I must say, you are very similar to me boss. You claim to be a hero, a voice for the people, a man of fairness. And I 'm not gonna lie, this gets me pumped and excited to face you, however, you're gonna wanna wish you have kept that mask on, because you tainted yourself long ago when you put on that facade. I have always been, always will be, and never changed, as the one TRUE voice of the people, and some hack who doesn't know which face he wants to wear, isn't going to take that accolade away from me. And I thought I was off my f*ckin rocker.
Henry: You are. But he's British, so I'm instantly biased.
Sinc scowls at Henry, and then notably continues his speech.
Sinc: You don't let others get you down, though, you're just...you. And I love that. Just don't do anything you'll regret when you face me in the ring. I don't do mind games and fifty questions, I know who I am. I play fair just like you, and I act on my words. I noticed you've been around the block just like me also, and hey, props to ya, it's nice to see we got another long time brawler. But it seems you're more used to tag teams and stables and partners and psycho organizations and cults and sh*t and that's fine, but I have only been a solo athlete my man, and I damn sure don't need to be at someone's side to win a match. I am too dynamic to be put into any team category, which is why I was happy on the last show to get a singles match, so I didn't have to be part of that tag team mess. Oh, I'm sure you can hold your own big man, but I don't just hold my own, I glue myself to the f*cking foundation of what wrestling stands on. So while you're deciding where your factions lie, I stay forever with the fans, and am indeed...a lone wolf. No pun intended. But then.....we got the other dude.
Henry adds emphasis to Sinc's vulgarity with pleasure.
Henry: Oh yes, the OTHER...dude.
Sinc: What's his name again?
Henry ponders a moment as if he is right along with Sinc into trying to think who the OTHER...dude was. Then he remembers.
Henry: Oh yes, Skid Marks. Or something.
Sinc: OH! HIM! Chris Marks! That's right! Jesus, I swear I'm like the only guy who has a cool and memorable name around here who isn't lame. But yeah, now we're getting somewhere. Chris Marks...interesting guy. Bein called a little man huh? Yeah, that's freakin sucky man. Girls...what can you do? They love treatin men like garbage when we don't put out for them. I MEAN uh...at least from my experience! Sorry to the ladies out in the crowd, that was a lil extreme. Just a lil. But Chris....if I recall from seein you wrestle once, you're kind of...anything but little dude. Six foot three, two hundred and sixty pounds....man that's a powerhouse. You're even bigger than Wulf Furby! Just stay away from the Chicken and Waffles and do me a favor and shrink a little man...I mean sh*t, I'm gonna have to buy some Lipozene for your ass to get around you AND Wulf. I'll especially need to buy some moon shoes just to reach the likes of you Chris. But I guess I can just go through you two. But that'll just be too much damn work on my end. Listen Marks, you seem chill, and I'm sure it'll be wicked awesome to face you, but here's the thing, I've asked around, and people just don't really know you. I asked what feats you've achieved, and they really couldn't give me anything. Now I know what your thinkin, this comin from a guy who lost his first match, a newbie, right? WRONG!
Sinc mocks a buzzing sound from a game show and mimes his hand slamming the air as if pressing a button. He really loved pressing those buttons!
Sinc: This coming from a guy who had all eyes on him when I gave Johnny a run for his money. You Chris, I don't even know if you DO run...like...at all. But I will give you one thing in your favor, you got guts. Courage. Resilience. Even though you scream dirty douche bag, you bleed wrestling, it's in your blood, I can see it, and I can tell, you'll be the one to beat in that ring. But don't think I'm ruling you out Wulf, I know behind those crazy slanty eyes and those disgusting pimples you got an evil spell a'brewin! I think those late night visits with your closet therapist about your insecurities honed your skills. And at one point, you spoke of worth, so I ask, what is winning against me and Chris worth to you? Are you seriously going to cherish that victory and treat it with dignity like I would, and any decent and serious member of this federation would? Or is this all just some sick joke to you? Because I'm very picky with jokes. And sorry to break it to you, but you aren't funny man. You're just...confused. And that's ok, we all go through our phases of wearing masks and-
Henry: Putting our dicks in a box.
Sinc: And being insecure about ourselves.
Henry: Like Santa Claus is when he can't fit down the Chimney!
Sinc: Santa Claus isn't real, Henry.
Henry: WHAT!?! BLAST! I hate Americans, they always ruin the fun.
End Henry's Sarcasm.
Sinc raises a brow to the remark and realizes he was straying off point. He disregards Henry and shuffles his feet, now sporting a posture of ferocious tenacity. He certainly wasn't done yet.
Sinc: But I am sure you are getting my point. While you play with yourself to figure out which way you wanna swing, I'll be waiting with the other pros to make your downfall quick and easy. I know you're a vet to the likes of Exodus, so please, don't make your beating harder than it has to be from the likes of me, a peon to your castle of emotional journeys. Now Chris, don't feel discouraged dude, you and I both know you'll never have a castle. And that's fine, we can team up and makeshift a small homeless shack out of some tin and a few strands of string. Maybe a stick to hold it up. And then we can take pictures and post it on Facebook. No, Instagram that sh*t. Make it all colorful and what not. And then we can go to your court date for being a filthy vagrant and sexually assaulting a picture of Heather Halliwell. Don't worry Chris, we forgive you, we all have been there at one point or another.
Sinc takes a breath, assessing his words for a moment, and picturing the possibility of his first victory in Exodus Pro against these guys. Two for one.
WAIT, PAUSE IT.
Wow, talking so much really takes its toll on a person though. For just two guys, Sinc was sure fired up. Two guys, one flame. THE NEW VIRAL VIDEO FROM- eh...never mind. He was thankful he wasn't pitted up against the whole roster at once, then he'd really be gasping for air. The smack talk would never end! IT WOULD BE A FIESTA FOR DAYS!
Unpause.
Sinc: I mean think about it! I can beat two guys that have walked the halls of Exodus Pro in their prime, built their rock of foundation, and placed their allegiances, and completely demolish all that they've accomplished with a simple victory. At the same moment, I can redeem myself from a zero and one record. I can surprise them with actual talent, and take down two of Exodus's long time competitors and shock their life long followers. Actually, Chris really hasn't been there that long. BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER! Who's counting, right? I'd break their wittle hearts. But it's ok, cause then their followers, their fans, CAN BECOME MY FANS! Because my fans actually matter to me. This is my redemption song! Now Chris, I know, I know like Wulf, you love your teams and your partnerships, I know you still want to latch onto Adrien's sack just a little more before jumping into solo opportunities deep down, deny it all you want, but you know it's true. But this is a different kinda game Mr. Marks, your usual careless feelings towards life is going to change when you face me. You'll want to beg that your life be spared, cause I won't lay down for you like you claim to want from others, and I ain't gonna argue your sexual fantasies, I'm gonna force you to appreciate the new blood in me, and stop underestimating every f*cking person you fight in that ring. I'll be the one to finally make you show some respect, which you severely lack.
The tremble in Sinc's voice had never been more clear. There was a special place in hell for people that assumed, and judged, and hated with such a fire that Chris did. He was the villain that everyone wanted defeated. Sinc was going to deal the hand.
Sinc: You could learn a thing or two from Adrien Chris, and you can start gaining that much needed wisdom you lack by showing me in our match that you're willing to throw on your best face, and wrestle. Just shut your mouth, put down the haterade, and prove you can fight. Don't prove to anyone you can open your mouth....prove you can really fight from the inside, not the scapegoat of a nasty personality, but the spirit, the vigor. I know you can do it, but just like that bald headed dildo on Dragon Ball Z, unlock your potential, because I only see a weakling with an attitude. Heck, I encourage to go the route that Wulf even did and have a change of heart. Know that you can change too, it just takes that step. After I beat you ofcourse, but still, try being the good guy for once, it's fun! WE HAVE COOKIES! So whatdya say, PRICK?! Sound good? Oh, you didn't like me using your favorite word? Great! Let's move on.
Sinc pauses to be with his thoughts again. He thinks hard about his opponents, what might they say about Sinc, what might they spout to intimidate him? Sinc decided to play fortune teller and attempt to guess how they might put him down, how they might try to shatter his blinding light emanating from his very soul.
Sinc: What can you two honestly throw at me, to keep me from coming out that ring with my hand raised? I've already been in a bout with a champion in Cannon, I've already seen what a top player can do. And you two, are no Johnny Cannon. If anything, this match will be a load off compared to the dish I was dealt in my debut. Oh Sinc you're just a rookie, a nobody, or...oh Sinc, you can't even win your first throwdown.....Oh Sinc...Sinc...Sinc...Sinc. Sinc, you were too cocky, Sinc I'm sure you sucked at Standup Comedy just like you sucked at wrestling. WHATEVER MAN! I'm tired of it. For once, I'll be the one dealing the abuse! If that means I gotta keep battling until my knuckles are grated and my knee caps lock up on me then so be it. I'm in it to win it. A victory is a victory, but a victory with a motivation, a burning desire to shine after an upset, is the oasis in the desert, the saving grace for a scratching and biting stray looking for a place to call his own in Exodus. And I haven't even found the wiggle room yet, I'm still trying to find a spot I can implant myself into, and I can't do that, if I get beaten twice in a row. I'll earn my spot, no matter what it takes. It'll happen. Pummeling wolves and knocking down giants is what I do. Wulf and Chris, you'll come to love me for it, you'll realize my reasoning.
He was oozing elegance and drive right into the canals of his foes inner river bends. He was going to paddle all the way into their psyche and crush them into comatose. It was nothing personal, it was just necessity.
Sinc: Now something to know about me you two, is that I can be very misleading. I'm the guy people overlook. I'm the guy in the back of the room that seems like he has it all figured out and he says his prayers every night and does his homework right before bed. But in reality, I can be the biggest f*cking elephant in the room and make the whole room hate me. But I choose to be a man of honor, a man who aims to please the fans, and be the one to look up to. Because looking down, is for spineless cowards. If I get shackled by the fetters of my enemies, I become the conduit of willpower, and I break free. I got eyes in the back of my head, the instincts of a new born cheetah, and an intent to spot the weaknesses of my enemies. I'm a f*ckin X-MAN! And as long as someone can believe they can be anything they wanna be, what's gonna stop em? Nothing. Not a Werewolf Furby who cross dresses to find himself, not a relative of Big Foot with a bad attitude , not ANYONE! I can say I'll win, and end up getting creamed again, sure. Or I can say I'll win, and do it. No offense you two, but I kinda need this a little more than you guys. If worse comes to worst, you two can always open a circus or something. I'm sure that would be pretty successful. So when I enter through those ropes for the second time in Exodus Pro history, there will be one name called. And one name only.
Sinc takes a deep breath and prepares to shout his trademark motto until the whole building shakes. Henry face palms himself and sighs.
Henry: Oh here we go. They've gone and done it again. Why must people bring him to such levels.
Without further adieu, we hear our beloved Sinc shout his mating call.
Sinc: SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNCCCCCCCCCCCCC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MERCIIIIIIIIIIIIIIERRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He slowly collapses down the volume of his voice and finishes up his mouthing to the emptiness of the theater seats, oh, and Henry. Henry was there too. With ringing and aching ears.
Sinc: And I'm gonna say it, until the whole world hears. Give me your all gents, and please, I BEG you...don't let the curse of the under dog.....hold you back. Because I DO...have bite.
Sinc walks over to Henry and signals him to follow him out. Henry gladly walks beside his pal thankful he was done exhausting his vocal chords. He was done gracing the stage and was now ready to again experience the real thing, the Exodus Pro arena. But it was going to be different this time. He was going to show everyone, he isn't someone to write off. That his arrogance, does indeed, have a purpose. He looks behind him for but a second and stops. Henry stops with him. Sinc stares at the very same spot he glanced before where he claimed his dad's ghost had sat.
And there he was once more, Sinc's father. It wasn't false after all. It seems Sinc was truly being haunted. But his dad as he sat, seemed....happy this time. He smiled at Sinc, and gave him a nod in the cold embrace of the velvet seat he encompassed. In recognition, Sinc nods, and smiles back. He then looks away knowing he has just begun an exciting new chapter in his life. Sinc pats Henry on the back, and they walk to the exit of the building. As they exit, a song suddenly plays on the PA of the theater, a song that is just perfect for the occasion. Did Sinc plan this? Who knows. They both walk out to the beat.
Ah, sweet memories.
End.
England was Henry’s true home and place of residence, and he missed it every day. He was just finishing a degree in business before Sinc dragged him along as his manager and agent and convinced him to come to the states with lots of cash and a very determined spirit that he was truly going to help Sinc achieve success; he couldn’t find it in his heart to really say no to that, even after the whole mishap of how they met on violent terms. But he did have respect and fascination for places like the Orpheum Theater in such a city, he loved the architecture and often thought how such gems were made. It was a mystery to him. Both him and Sinc’s eyes were all over the place scanning the area and admiring everything. Henry ofcourse still wasn’t quite sure why they were here yet.
And before he got a chance to ask, Sinc interjected.
Sinc: We’re here in one of the oldest best kept secrets in the history of legendary San Francisco, California. Hear it, see it, smell it, it’s a special experience Henry!
Henry: Special as in, retarded special? I’m actually quite bored already.
Sinc: Suck it up. I had alotta good times here, plenty of good laughs with my old man when I was into comedy, I always begged him to take me to every production they put on here, seventy five percent of the time he’d say yes, but not without beating the snot out of me for bugging him about it all the time. Now look at me.
Henry eyes Sinc as if he is staring at an alien. Once again he was adding a spin of sarcasm and debauchery to one of Sinc’s inclined statements. His torn jeans, his white V neck, his rugged five o' clock shadow, yes, Sinc was a HIDEOUS alien.
Henry: OHHHH so YOU’RE the retarded special experience. Got it mate.
Sinc doesn’t even appear slightly amused by the comment and gets to the point in fear of making Henry’s brain rupture from boredom and history lessons.
Sinc: No, I mean now I’m a pro wrestler. I’m on the golden road to success. I’ve moved on and accepted that the past cannot be a place I can hang around. So I lost. Boohoo. I nearly beat Cannon by a testicle hair, everyone knows it. And I know he WAS scared to face me, I saw it in the way he moved around that ring, I was David, he was Goliath. And yet I get beat by a f*cking small package of all things. What do I look like, a delivery man!?! KNOCK KNOCK, I don't look good in sh*t brown short shorts thank you very much. I'll face him again though, and he WILL lose. But regardless, after that last match, now I am startin to get dem crazy eyes from people backstage. They know I mean business. But take that pale skinned and bucked teeth mug of yours and look at this empty stage, it sends a message.
Henry refuses to play ball and keeps his gaze at Sinc. He wasn't gonna keep his eyes off of the newcomer to Exodus, he felt obligated to watch him like a nanny to a suckling babe. Sinc usually didn't take losses well, and Henry was always the one to go to for calming him down. Anything could happen, Sinc could explode at any second and he wasn't about to clean up his chunks of flesh everywhere. And not on such a clean stage! Oh sh*t, he looked at the stage after all! WHAT A TWIST! Henry always grew quite impatient when it came to Sinc's tirades of the loony bin, so in this case, he was going to call Sinc what he had always called him, insane.
Henry: Now you’re just whacko. There’s medication for this you know.
Sinc points downwards to the stage and emphasizes its importance. The countless people that have stepped foot on this place, filled with talent, filled with passion. It was sacred ground to the few and the proud that could perform on it.
Sinc: Conan O’ Brien…Bill Graham….Bob Dylan…the greats and the legends of what made entertainment so amazing. Think about it. This stage right here, isn’t much different than a wrestling ring. You get to tread on a space that has been graced by the presence of so many amazing and talented performers…wrestlers…that brought the house down and pumped up sold out arenas. Not long ago even, Exodus Pro at Endgame saw its only SECOND EVER female world champion Heather Halliwell own the joint as a featherweight and earned that title belt! It saw the powerhouses of a tag team, The Ninth Gate claim team gold and impress the world with their victory. That ring has been the gateway and the portal to new and old champions alike, rising stars, falling stars, the injured and the quitters. It’s a journey in and of itself.
Sinc walks around the stage taking in the space as his own and stretching his arms out as if there was indeed a packed house full of people watching him talk, feeding off his words, and giving him their eyes and attention. He could see them now, chanting, cheering him, praising him for being the one superstar they have waited so long for to give them someone to really root for again.
Sinc...
Sinc.....
SINC!
Henry didn’t get it. He looks down apathetically clearly seeing that it is just a wooden square in his mind just like the ring was just a square with some ropes attached. He wasn’t feeling what Sinc was feeling. And he didn’t mind that. They were both very different either way you slice the metaphorical cake. Mmmm…mouth watering…metaphorical cake.
Henry: SINC!
It’s just a square. You are once again over thinking things. Don’t let your match loss with Johnny Cannon get you thinking madness. Getting your hopes up and using silly and frankly quite childish comparisons isn’t going to get you the win on the next bout either.
Getting hopes up? Sinc doesn't grow his little corn field of hopes and dreams, he doesn't plow its land, and he doesn't till the soil. That sh*t grows itself, he just watches as the resources come flooding in. And when his hands are ripe with deliciousness, he reaps the benefits and he uses every inch to get him through the pains and tribulations of being a pro wrestler. Yeah, that's right, Old Macdonald don't got jack on Sinc Mercier and his farm hyperbole. Fly away crows, cause he done scared the piss outta ya. Dang, these fancy word styles just keep piling up. SUPER VOCABULARY FOR THE WIN!
Sinc: Let me finish. See, Johnny Cannon is one of those champions who jumped in that ring and won his belt without a second thought of how, of why, of what got him there to begin with, and he was even a tag champion at one point in his day. He’s got a veteran’s craft that’s for damn sure, but now that I see things a little more clearly after my loss, and understand how important a stage is, let alone a wrestling ring, it’s make or break Henry. If I lose twice in a row, I’m disgracing all those victors who ever entered that proving ground and telling them that by losing AGAIN, I've given up my future. I've given up my chance to make an impression on the true soldiers of the ring. I'd be throwing in the towel before I even get out of the god damned shower. I would never make my first imprint into that mat, and it would leave a bad taste in my mouth. Granted, my opponents don't wanna lose either, especially not to a rookie like me, so that just goes to show, we all got our reasons.
Sinc stands in thought for a moment, thinking about laying down on that canvas in a daze after being pulverized by Cannon and not hearing the end of it, being unable to establish himself on the radar of the locker room or the minds of the fans. What sort of man would he be, if he laid down and let himself get beaten by yet another upset. He would be stuck at the bottom of the ocean of failure with the clown fish and the sea sponges, soaking up an abyss of nothing but water floating around in endless meandering while the sharks and the piranhas are swimming at the top itching for more prey. Although it would be pretty cool if Sinc was a fish of any kind really. Yeah…that’d be totally awesome.
Sinc: I may have said that winning isn’t all that matters, and that’s true, but as an under dog, you need to establish yourself. If I do bad this next time, I certainly wouldn't be a great example to Exodus fans, I'd be the grandmas and grandpas brunch meals. It’s about time I get out of second best, and step into full throttle. Because sometimes Henry, it’s the losers who put the big boys and the well acclaimed back into the end of the line where they belong. It's that drive for doing better, motivating yourself after coming so close. And what sucks for everyone else is, I'm a losing wrestler now. I'm not everyone's prime choice to win the latter. It's like I'm f*cking contaminated, like that scene from World War Z when the guy walks through an ass load of zombies after poisoning himself and they don't touch him cause he's sick. I'm swaying in the masses right there with him. Because if I win against these two other guys, guess what? They are now, at the end of the line. And I get F*CKING healed baby!
Sinc tilts his head up with his chin held high. Now being filled with a hope, a glorified confidence that doing better is a given. He's just testing the waters right now, and after his first match, he currently has an idea of how cold that water is, and how deep it really goes. He definitely has a lot to swim in.
Sinc: It's a miracle! I mean, how do you reach the unattainable? How do you stop a whole battalion of people who've been through hell and proven their worth while you're the injured guy on the sidelines being reassigned to a desk somewhere off the battlefield? That's how I feel Henry. I've been reduced to a wounded warrior on a laptop. I'll tell you how, you get back in there! You push yourself so hard until it hurts, until all your muscles give out and your fingers and toes break off. You go until your spirit dies and your heart tears. And when you face a sorcerer of the craft known as wrestling, with all his powers that be and his epic tier 5 gear, you find the f*ckin genie that gave him his power, and put him back in the stupid lamp.
Henry lets out a moan of complete annoyance and wonders exactly why he is still tolerating Sinc's chatter.
Henry: Oh just f*cking lovely. We're back to video games now, and apparently, you threw a little bit of A f*ckin Laddin in there too with the genie rubbish. Fantastic. Let's go make a movie of a genie playing a video game while wanking himself until his fingers and toes break off in the middle of a war zone? How's that? Gonna make you happy eh?
Sinc. Stop. Just stop. Get a hold of yourself, wake up and smell the roses, you are not the veteran anymore, you're a low card classless little man, no, you're not even a little man, you're a midget, a dwarf to these giants. And they have massive c*cks. JUST HUGE! And their jizzing ALL over you! It's JUST everywhere!
Henry paces to Sinc now and grabs his shoulders forcing Sinc to make contact with Henry's pupils, which are slightly dilated, as he now is the one talking. And for once, it seems Sinc is actually listening. GREAT JOB HENRY! Henry is shaking Sinc now, not caring for physical boundaries, he felt he really needed to snap Sinc out of it.
Henry: Sinc, I love you. I do. And as a friend who loves you in a non sexual way, I am telling you. Get a grip man. Focus. It's a sport. It's competitive. Sh*t happens. Hell, you're gonna get sh*t ON. Don't think too much, just be...Sinc. Be loveable. Because right now, you're pretty pathetic and way too dramatic with your words. For christ's sake, NOBODY IS HERE BUT ME! So accept the facts, and onward you go!
For a few brief moments it seems yes, Sinc was listening, but he started to slowly avert his gaze to just over Henry's head. It was like he saw a ghost. He was staring at the balcony seating in the theater some feet away and winced his eyes. He swears he saw the ghost of his father staring down at him with a serious gaunt. His mind started to linger elsewhere, no longer present to Henry's lecture, but instead, in another plane entirely. He remembered the days of his youth...he remembered his dad....he remembered it all....the moment he decided to resent his father until the day of his death.
Ladies and gentlemen, we have now entered the mind of Sinc Mercier. And it's quite a dangerous place indeed.
I see...I see my lawn. I see, my old dog gnawing on the freshly cut grass. I see, my father with me. And I feel...pain. I am at a day long ago in my past, it was summer, and it was in my family's home. Oh, it's my garage! I can still smell the asbestos from the leaky roof. And there's the torn wrestling mat in the middle of the floor, and our punching bags, and dumbbells! Man this is wild! Oh..no...I remember this day. My father was forcing me to wrestle him. To show me how it's done. I was...in tears. I was just twelve years old. I hated him ever since.
Dad: Don't be a f*cking pussy son! Defend yourself! Show me I raised a son and not a little god damned girl.
He lifted me up. Again. And again. Suplexes. Takedowns. Grounded punches. Bashing my head into the ground. He just wouldn't stop. He didn't want to. He didn't have to. I WAS a pussy back then. I took the pain like a whiny little bastard.
Sinc: Dad, knock it off! I'm bleeding. I can't fight back! I can't. You won't let me!
That just pissed him off even more.
Dad: Can't is a quittin word son!
Sinc: No. NO!
And in a flash, he laid down one more punch on me right between the eyes after taking me back down to the mat, and knocked me out cold. I remember very little after that. Except during the same day, I do recall sitting on the couch watching football with the assh*le, and my mother coming home seeing me full of bruises and gauze in my nose to stop it from bleeding. Did she ask what happened? Oh...yeah, yeah she did. But my dad bluffed.
Mom: Oh dear child, what in good heavens happened to you?
She knelt down next to me and cupped my head into her hands. I miss her touch. So, so much. Always warm, always welcoming, she was my mom. My hero. But my dad? He's another story entirely.
Dad: He got in a fight with one of the neighborhood kids. But don't worry honey, I squared it all away. Our boy's gonna be fine. He's tough, aren't ya kid?
What was I supposed to say? I couldn't be honest, or else next time my dad would put me in the hospital for defying him. So I lied. I had to.
Sinc: Ye...yeah. I'm fine mom.
Mom: Oh damn that Billy down the street, I should have a word with his parents myself! I'm so sorry sweet pea, my little angel doesn't deserve to be pushed around. I'm glad your father took care of it. Now let me go get some ice right away.
She leaves the room and my dad cuts me a devilish grin. The kinda smile that breaks mirrors and then a buncha little cockroaches flee from the teeth of it. He ruffled my hair and winked at me. My face was red with anger. I was livid. I wanted to kill him. I swore I would. But karma caught up to him obviously, and I guess....I guess I kinda got my wish.
Annnnnnddddddd WE'RE BACK INTO THE REAL WORLD!
Sinc's thoughts are interrupted by Henry's rising tone of voice. Sinc shakes his head and stares out at the same spot he had thought he saw the ghost of his father at. But there was nothing there now. Just Henry's squabbling and loudness. Yup, he was back alright, and a part of him didn't want to be.
Henry: Sinc...are you listening to me? Cause I thought you were for a bit there. I didn't mean to sound so....prickish. Well...actually I did. But you needed to hear it.
Sinc shoves Henry's hands away and off his shoulders. He then slowly walks away from him and places a hand on his head as if trying to suppress a migraine. After a few rubs of his forehead he stares into the bright lights of the theater as if questioning why he would feel so haunted by his dad, why he would have such an experience now. After some thought, he blows it off, and reminds himself what his current goal is. Why he's really in Exodus, and why pro wrestling is his true path. He gets back in his groove.
Sinc: Henry, I heard you, and I will be very frank here.
Sinc turns around, storms to his British pal, and leans into Henry's right ear as if trying to tell a secret, then completely surprises him with a raging yell.
Sinc: DON'T...F*CKING..TOUCH ME!
Sinc dusts off his shoulders and cracks his neck. He turns to the array of empty seats in front of him and once more pretends there are people lining them. He was a man on fire now, and his edge has recently returned. He is now over the hump of loserville, and back on the focused road to stardom. He walks arrogantly back and forth, staring at these chairs and choosing his words very carefully.
Sinc: If there were people here....this is what I'd tell them about me and my next match. About my opponents. About why I do...what I do. Ya see, the story of Sinc Mercier is a simple one. I grew up a depressed and sh*tty kid with big ambitions of comedy fame, and seasoned into one of those muscular dudes you see on TV. And back then kids like me wondered, why are they hugging themselves in underwear?
Come on, everyone's thought that at one point. Don't deny it.
Sinc: The answer is simple. I became a pro wrestler not for my father, not because when he was dying on his death bed that's what he wanted for me. I became a wrestler because I wanted to show everyone I can do anything, that I can be good at something I hated, and conquer it! Can my opponents say that, REALLY? Can they really be that prophetic with their reason for entering that ring? That untamed territory? One of em, known as, Grendel, no, I'm sorry, Wulf, which sounds like something I chant to with a bunch of Cherokee Indians in the mountains of who gives a f*ck. Besides, what are you, schizophrenic? Are you a Furby with a pumpkin mask or are you a whale with a mohawk? Henry, help me out here.
Sinc etches his head back looking at Henry for a quick second to get an opinion. He had to have something clever to say in regards to Sinc's matchups, he usually does.
Henry: He's the dick in a box guy.
Well THAT wasn't restrained commentating at all.
Sinc: YES! BINGO! Wulf is...the dick in the box guy. He's just waiting for some innocent person to prance over to him on Halloween with his mask and his getup, then they reach into his box, and SURPRISE! He takes his mask off, gets all wet and excited, and becomes even scarier than he was with it on! And here's a hint, It's not a Jolly Rancher in that box guys.
OH SNAP! Someone call Child Services, it's a scandal!
Henry: BADUM...CHA! DICK IN THE BOX GUY!
Sinc stifles a laugh, but quickly readjusts to his focused mindset to the invisible crowd. He kinda liked venting the way that he is, he didn't have the issue of possible negative reactions from people and overbearing noises from the Tourette's cases who can't sit still in the audience.
Sinc: Really though, Wulf, I have to respect you even after the whole identity crisis because you are one hundred present a pure original bundle of crazy. You walked that fine line of horror hand job, and then went full circle back to just plain old you, a scruffy fighter with a cause. And I must say, you are very similar to me boss. You claim to be a hero, a voice for the people, a man of fairness. And I 'm not gonna lie, this gets me pumped and excited to face you, however, you're gonna wanna wish you have kept that mask on, because you tainted yourself long ago when you put on that facade. I have always been, always will be, and never changed, as the one TRUE voice of the people, and some hack who doesn't know which face he wants to wear, isn't going to take that accolade away from me. And I thought I was off my f*ckin rocker.
Henry: You are. But he's British, so I'm instantly biased.
Sinc scowls at Henry, and then notably continues his speech.
Sinc: You don't let others get you down, though, you're just...you. And I love that. Just don't do anything you'll regret when you face me in the ring. I don't do mind games and fifty questions, I know who I am. I play fair just like you, and I act on my words. I noticed you've been around the block just like me also, and hey, props to ya, it's nice to see we got another long time brawler. But it seems you're more used to tag teams and stables and partners and psycho organizations and cults and sh*t and that's fine, but I have only been a solo athlete my man, and I damn sure don't need to be at someone's side to win a match. I am too dynamic to be put into any team category, which is why I was happy on the last show to get a singles match, so I didn't have to be part of that tag team mess. Oh, I'm sure you can hold your own big man, but I don't just hold my own, I glue myself to the f*cking foundation of what wrestling stands on. So while you're deciding where your factions lie, I stay forever with the fans, and am indeed...a lone wolf. No pun intended. But then.....we got the other dude.
Henry adds emphasis to Sinc's vulgarity with pleasure.
Henry: Oh yes, the OTHER...dude.
Sinc: What's his name again?
Henry ponders a moment as if he is right along with Sinc into trying to think who the OTHER...dude was. Then he remembers.
Henry: Oh yes, Skid Marks. Or something.
Sinc: OH! HIM! Chris Marks! That's right! Jesus, I swear I'm like the only guy who has a cool and memorable name around here who isn't lame. But yeah, now we're getting somewhere. Chris Marks...interesting guy. Bein called a little man huh? Yeah, that's freakin sucky man. Girls...what can you do? They love treatin men like garbage when we don't put out for them. I MEAN uh...at least from my experience! Sorry to the ladies out in the crowd, that was a lil extreme. Just a lil. But Chris....if I recall from seein you wrestle once, you're kind of...anything but little dude. Six foot three, two hundred and sixty pounds....man that's a powerhouse. You're even bigger than Wulf Furby! Just stay away from the Chicken and Waffles and do me a favor and shrink a little man...I mean sh*t, I'm gonna have to buy some Lipozene for your ass to get around you AND Wulf. I'll especially need to buy some moon shoes just to reach the likes of you Chris. But I guess I can just go through you two. But that'll just be too much damn work on my end. Listen Marks, you seem chill, and I'm sure it'll be wicked awesome to face you, but here's the thing, I've asked around, and people just don't really know you. I asked what feats you've achieved, and they really couldn't give me anything. Now I know what your thinkin, this comin from a guy who lost his first match, a newbie, right? WRONG!
Sinc mocks a buzzing sound from a game show and mimes his hand slamming the air as if pressing a button. He really loved pressing those buttons!
Sinc: This coming from a guy who had all eyes on him when I gave Johnny a run for his money. You Chris, I don't even know if you DO run...like...at all. But I will give you one thing in your favor, you got guts. Courage. Resilience. Even though you scream dirty douche bag, you bleed wrestling, it's in your blood, I can see it, and I can tell, you'll be the one to beat in that ring. But don't think I'm ruling you out Wulf, I know behind those crazy slanty eyes and those disgusting pimples you got an evil spell a'brewin! I think those late night visits with your closet therapist about your insecurities honed your skills. And at one point, you spoke of worth, so I ask, what is winning against me and Chris worth to you? Are you seriously going to cherish that victory and treat it with dignity like I would, and any decent and serious member of this federation would? Or is this all just some sick joke to you? Because I'm very picky with jokes. And sorry to break it to you, but you aren't funny man. You're just...confused. And that's ok, we all go through our phases of wearing masks and-
Henry: Putting our dicks in a box.
Sinc: And being insecure about ourselves.
Henry: Like Santa Claus is when he can't fit down the Chimney!
Sinc: Santa Claus isn't real, Henry.
Henry: WHAT!?! BLAST! I hate Americans, they always ruin the fun.
End Henry's Sarcasm.
Sinc raises a brow to the remark and realizes he was straying off point. He disregards Henry and shuffles his feet, now sporting a posture of ferocious tenacity. He certainly wasn't done yet.
Sinc: But I am sure you are getting my point. While you play with yourself to figure out which way you wanna swing, I'll be waiting with the other pros to make your downfall quick and easy. I know you're a vet to the likes of Exodus, so please, don't make your beating harder than it has to be from the likes of me, a peon to your castle of emotional journeys. Now Chris, don't feel discouraged dude, you and I both know you'll never have a castle. And that's fine, we can team up and makeshift a small homeless shack out of some tin and a few strands of string. Maybe a stick to hold it up. And then we can take pictures and post it on Facebook. No, Instagram that sh*t. Make it all colorful and what not. And then we can go to your court date for being a filthy vagrant and sexually assaulting a picture of Heather Halliwell. Don't worry Chris, we forgive you, we all have been there at one point or another.
Sinc takes a breath, assessing his words for a moment, and picturing the possibility of his first victory in Exodus Pro against these guys. Two for one.
WAIT, PAUSE IT.
Wow, talking so much really takes its toll on a person though. For just two guys, Sinc was sure fired up. Two guys, one flame. THE NEW VIRAL VIDEO FROM- eh...never mind. He was thankful he wasn't pitted up against the whole roster at once, then he'd really be gasping for air. The smack talk would never end! IT WOULD BE A FIESTA FOR DAYS!
Unpause.
Sinc: I mean think about it! I can beat two guys that have walked the halls of Exodus Pro in their prime, built their rock of foundation, and placed their allegiances, and completely demolish all that they've accomplished with a simple victory. At the same moment, I can redeem myself from a zero and one record. I can surprise them with actual talent, and take down two of Exodus's long time competitors and shock their life long followers. Actually, Chris really hasn't been there that long. BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER! Who's counting, right? I'd break their wittle hearts. But it's ok, cause then their followers, their fans, CAN BECOME MY FANS! Because my fans actually matter to me. This is my redemption song! Now Chris, I know, I know like Wulf, you love your teams and your partnerships, I know you still want to latch onto Adrien's sack just a little more before jumping into solo opportunities deep down, deny it all you want, but you know it's true. But this is a different kinda game Mr. Marks, your usual careless feelings towards life is going to change when you face me. You'll want to beg that your life be spared, cause I won't lay down for you like you claim to want from others, and I ain't gonna argue your sexual fantasies, I'm gonna force you to appreciate the new blood in me, and stop underestimating every f*cking person you fight in that ring. I'll be the one to finally make you show some respect, which you severely lack.
The tremble in Sinc's voice had never been more clear. There was a special place in hell for people that assumed, and judged, and hated with such a fire that Chris did. He was the villain that everyone wanted defeated. Sinc was going to deal the hand.
Sinc: You could learn a thing or two from Adrien Chris, and you can start gaining that much needed wisdom you lack by showing me in our match that you're willing to throw on your best face, and wrestle. Just shut your mouth, put down the haterade, and prove you can fight. Don't prove to anyone you can open your mouth....prove you can really fight from the inside, not the scapegoat of a nasty personality, but the spirit, the vigor. I know you can do it, but just like that bald headed dildo on Dragon Ball Z, unlock your potential, because I only see a weakling with an attitude. Heck, I encourage to go the route that Wulf even did and have a change of heart. Know that you can change too, it just takes that step. After I beat you ofcourse, but still, try being the good guy for once, it's fun! WE HAVE COOKIES! So whatdya say, PRICK?! Sound good? Oh, you didn't like me using your favorite word? Great! Let's move on.
Sinc pauses to be with his thoughts again. He thinks hard about his opponents, what might they say about Sinc, what might they spout to intimidate him? Sinc decided to play fortune teller and attempt to guess how they might put him down, how they might try to shatter his blinding light emanating from his very soul.
Sinc: What can you two honestly throw at me, to keep me from coming out that ring with my hand raised? I've already been in a bout with a champion in Cannon, I've already seen what a top player can do. And you two, are no Johnny Cannon. If anything, this match will be a load off compared to the dish I was dealt in my debut. Oh Sinc you're just a rookie, a nobody, or...oh Sinc, you can't even win your first throwdown.....Oh Sinc...Sinc...Sinc...Sinc. Sinc, you were too cocky, Sinc I'm sure you sucked at Standup Comedy just like you sucked at wrestling. WHATEVER MAN! I'm tired of it. For once, I'll be the one dealing the abuse! If that means I gotta keep battling until my knuckles are grated and my knee caps lock up on me then so be it. I'm in it to win it. A victory is a victory, but a victory with a motivation, a burning desire to shine after an upset, is the oasis in the desert, the saving grace for a scratching and biting stray looking for a place to call his own in Exodus. And I haven't even found the wiggle room yet, I'm still trying to find a spot I can implant myself into, and I can't do that, if I get beaten twice in a row. I'll earn my spot, no matter what it takes. It'll happen. Pummeling wolves and knocking down giants is what I do. Wulf and Chris, you'll come to love me for it, you'll realize my reasoning.
He was oozing elegance and drive right into the canals of his foes inner river bends. He was going to paddle all the way into their psyche and crush them into comatose. It was nothing personal, it was just necessity.
Sinc: Now something to know about me you two, is that I can be very misleading. I'm the guy people overlook. I'm the guy in the back of the room that seems like he has it all figured out and he says his prayers every night and does his homework right before bed. But in reality, I can be the biggest f*cking elephant in the room and make the whole room hate me. But I choose to be a man of honor, a man who aims to please the fans, and be the one to look up to. Because looking down, is for spineless cowards. If I get shackled by the fetters of my enemies, I become the conduit of willpower, and I break free. I got eyes in the back of my head, the instincts of a new born cheetah, and an intent to spot the weaknesses of my enemies. I'm a f*ckin X-MAN! And as long as someone can believe they can be anything they wanna be, what's gonna stop em? Nothing. Not a Werewolf Furby who cross dresses to find himself, not a relative of Big Foot with a bad attitude , not ANYONE! I can say I'll win, and end up getting creamed again, sure. Or I can say I'll win, and do it. No offense you two, but I kinda need this a little more than you guys. If worse comes to worst, you two can always open a circus or something. I'm sure that would be pretty successful. So when I enter through those ropes for the second time in Exodus Pro history, there will be one name called. And one name only.
Sinc takes a deep breath and prepares to shout his trademark motto until the whole building shakes. Henry face palms himself and sighs.
Henry: Oh here we go. They've gone and done it again. Why must people bring him to such levels.
Without further adieu, we hear our beloved Sinc shout his mating call.
Sinc: SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNCCCCCCCCCCCCC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MERCIIIIIIIIIIIIIIERRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He slowly collapses down the volume of his voice and finishes up his mouthing to the emptiness of the theater seats, oh, and Henry. Henry was there too. With ringing and aching ears.
Sinc: And I'm gonna say it, until the whole world hears. Give me your all gents, and please, I BEG you...don't let the curse of the under dog.....hold you back. Because I DO...have bite.
Sinc walks over to Henry and signals him to follow him out. Henry gladly walks beside his pal thankful he was done exhausting his vocal chords. He was done gracing the stage and was now ready to again experience the real thing, the Exodus Pro arena. But it was going to be different this time. He was going to show everyone, he isn't someone to write off. That his arrogance, does indeed, have a purpose. He looks behind him for but a second and stops. Henry stops with him. Sinc stares at the very same spot he glanced before where he claimed his dad's ghost had sat.
And there he was once more, Sinc's father. It wasn't false after all. It seems Sinc was truly being haunted. But his dad as he sat, seemed....happy this time. He smiled at Sinc, and gave him a nod in the cold embrace of the velvet seat he encompassed. In recognition, Sinc nods, and smiles back. He then looks away knowing he has just begun an exciting new chapter in his life. Sinc pats Henry on the back, and they walk to the exit of the building. As they exit, a song suddenly plays on the PA of the theater, a song that is just perfect for the occasion. Did Sinc plan this? Who knows. They both walk out to the beat.
Ah, sweet memories.
End.