Post by lucasbalkan on Sept 6, 2020 12:46:28 GMT -5
“Another beer?”
I looked up from staring at my phone, sitting on a bar stool but slumped against the wall at the end of the bar. I hadn’t even realised I had finished my last one.
“Sure, why not?”
The hipster serving me wandered away to pour the beer. I gazed around, the bar was quiet. I’d heard Glasgow was a bit wild, seemed pretty tame to me. She placed the beer down in front of me and I thought I’d ask.
“Seems pretty quiet tonight. I thought Glasgow was a rough kind of city?”
She smiled dryly.
“Oh, it is. We were named Europe’s ‘murder capital’ at one point… but also the United Kingdom’s friendliest city… in the same week. Glasgow is whatever you want it to be. You never know, the night is still young…”
And she wandered off. The night was still young.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Ever since the end of my last match, I have been counting down the hours to getting back into the ring. I have been counting the minutes from the last bell that I heard, waiting for the next bell to ring. Counting down the seconds until I can take my frustration out on someone for what happened.
Now, let’s get one thing out of the way. I’m still the SFT World Champion and that’s a good thing. Not because I covet shiny things or I base my identity around being the champion or the face of this company. No, because it affords me greater power and leverage. So, in one way, I am happy that I won against Apokalypse in London two weeks ago.
I am, of course, not happy with how I won. My soon to be challenger for this title attacked me in the ring and caused a premature end to the match. No-one wanted this. Not me, not Apokalypse, not the wretched English fans in the crowd… No-one except Candace.
I’ll get to her.
Apokalypse brought me to heights – or depths depending on how you look at it – that others have been unable to. He just about proved himself as a worthy adversary and a worthy champion but he fell at the last hurdle. Well, he was tripped or the hurdle was moved… I don’t know, I’m not big on sporting metaphors.
Regardless, the time of Apokalypse appears to be past. He does not want to challenge for the title again. That’s OK. It was good while it lasted. Maybe one day we’ll find ourselves in each other’s paths again.
My path now continues away from yours. Since London I have crossed the Atlantic twice. I have been thinking about the next twists and turns that will be in my way. There is Candace, of course, but there are others too. Jay Impact won a match to be the next to challenge me once I defeat Candace. A clown of a man but a talented one, he is one who I will need to pay some more attention to. I’ve almost forgotten his part in my ascent to the title but I was never truly happy to be in a team with him.
I am confident that neither Candace or Jay Impact will take this belt from me. I am confident that I will retain my place at the top of this company.
Now, speaking of the top of a company… and of Candace… I have been given an altogether different opponent this week in Glasgow, Scotland.
Jamo is, first and foremost, SFT’s hardcore champion. He has defeated some of SFT’s foremost names recently in winning or defending that title. However, he is also the ICW World Champion, the top of that particular company.
But he has an opponent soon, one who has recently hit him with a chair from behind…
Sound familiar? It should. It’s the one and only, Candace…
Unfortunately for you, Jamo, that’s as far as our similarities go. I have no intention of wrestling in multiple federations so I am laser focused on retaining my SFT World Title. Whatever Candace has done to me, I am confident and comfortable that I will retain this title despite her efforts. You, on the other hand, cannot be truly focused at the moment.
Your life is messy. Friends, doctors, enemies, challengers for your titles… How on earth can you possibly keep your focus upon defending your SFT Hardcore Title? Or you ICW World Title? Or on defeating me at the Barrowland Ballroom on Tuesday?
You may think that as neither of your titles are on the line, this match doesn’t matter so much. Maybe you’re right but let’s think about it a different way. Let’s think about the oft used phrase in our business – to be the best you have to beat the best.
I don’t think that you are doing that right now, Jamo. Looking back over your results, you have won many matches but I don’t see where you have beaten the best, certainly not when they have been at their best. Yet, here you are facing off with me.
You are on some form of redemption mission in SFT, it seems. You took the wrong side at the turn of the year and you’re looking for people to forgive and forget. Maybe they will. Although, it seems like old scores are rarely settled in our business. Me? I don’t care. That was before the third act of my SFT career, who am I to judge?
Honestly, Jamo, I don’t know what to make of you. You are successful and you are popular but there’s… well, there’s just something I can’t put my finger on about you. You’re no bogan, I don’t think, but I am yet to be convinced by you.
I think my confusion is that I see potential in there but I haven’t seen it unleashed. Maybe you’ll be able to show me your potential when we get up close and personal in the ring. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to get my hands on you, after all. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to get my hands on anyone since that night in London.
I’m counting down the minutes now Jamo.
Tick.
Tock.
I looked along the river to my left, there were some young people drinking by the water and beyond that a bar and the local Mosque. I looked to my right to the glass fronted buildings and bright lights of the city. I exhaled and turned my back on the river, leaning on the barrier and looking at the Cathedral that loomed directly across from me.
Right outside the cathedral, two drunks had inexplicably stumbled into one another and were now throwing lazy haymakers at each other as their equally drunk female companions shrilly shouted from a distance. This wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I heard that Glasgow had a reputation for violence.
Yes, Glasgow is what you make of it… I guess I’ll need to make Tuesday in Glasgow as violent as I can.
