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[Opponent: Stryfe] Who exactly is Patrick Glenn?
Some claim he's an English teacher, teaching at a local high school, a class full of grade tens. A man with a serious attitude, yet provocative humor. Others claim he's a wrestling genius. A legend in the making. Some have had doubts, leaving Patrick Glenn singled out and learning how to survive. Some have followed, who have been much appreciated, supporting him through every second of his passing life.
Well, I can't answer that question for you. Honestly, neither can Patrick. Even he himself doesn't know for sure. Sure, he can predict, he can hypothesize who he'll be within time. But nobody can guess each and every incident and how it will effect you.
How does this tie into wrestling? He's changing. He doesn't know it, but he's changing. Gradually, you'll see a change in his attitude. Will it be for the better? Only time can tell...
I just hope, I pray it's for the better...
l| Patrick |l Round three...
l| Sasha |l Round three.
l| Patrick |l It seems like it's been a lot longer than three weeks, hasn't it?
l| Sasha |l Definitely.
The odd silence roamed the room, hopping everything to a stop. Patrick Glenn came across himself finding he was fiddling with his fingers, the television screen slightly sounding out to his right. For a second his attention turns towards the television, but Sasha takes the first step into breaking the silence.
l| Sasha |l Have you ever thought that this tournament was a waste of time?
l| Patrick |l Huh?
His right eyebrow cocked up, a concerned look on his face. The bewilderness of her destinations seemed a bit over-active. She hesitated to her own comment once the sound of it had dribbled out of her own mouth.
l| Patrick |l What do you mean? This Invitational is a kickstart to my career. If somehow I run out of options, I'll have a whole table to choose from. You know how much this means to me, right?
l| Sasha |l Yeah... But- I- I just think it's been too much about you these past couple of weeks. I'm constantly having to follow you around. The cameras aren't on me, they're on you. And well- I kinda' feel left out...
Her head drooped, slowly sinking down to her chest as Patrick switched back to his normal seated position, looking directly at her with an intense glare. The fiddling of his fingers stopped, the television's noise echoed out, a silent whisper.
l| Sasha |l That... makes me look self-centered doesn't it...
Quickly, Patrick hopped over to the table she was sitting on, slouching his arm around her shoulder and looking her directly in the eyes. Even though her eyes penetrated down to the floor, a droplet of tear drooling down her right cheek, she had not noticed. His hand lightly felt her chin, lifting it up. He spoke softly to her with the sound of his whispering voice.
l| Patrick |l Sasha, it's not self-centered. I understand where you're coming from, I've been there before. Baby, you're just left out, and I appologize for that. How about we go out and have dinner. I'll treat you to a perfect night of romance, alright?
She sniffled, holding back the tears in her eyes. What was stress now became ease as her shoulders began to broaden, her chin held high on itself. She looked at Patrick with a solemn glare.
l| Sasha |l I look like a mess...
She let out with a hint of laughter in between. The words had managed to pertain an image of herself that Patrick had found, a more soothing side of her. He had found beauty, and his smile certainly flaunted his findings.
l| Patrick |l Well just go freshen up. I packed that red dress you love to wear in your suitcase when we headed over here.
l| Sasha |l I have a red dress?
l| Patrick |l I bought that one you liked from the mall. I know you were trying to hide the affection, but I certainly knew you had something for that dress.
l| Sasha |l Really?
l| Patrick |l Yep. Now go get ready, this night is strictly for you.
A smile had crossed her face, she moved off the table, giving a quick hug and racing to the bathroom. He sat there, a mastermind to his work.
Glenn moved off the table, standing erect before moving across the room and taking a seat on the bed, looking at the nightstand. On the table was a short note, similar to his writing.
Round three match, opponent is Stryfe.
He tilted the note towards him, enabling him to read the note easily. The legible writing made him think for a moment. He sat there, wondering of all the things to say. How to act, how not to. Some of it struck him as important, others faded rapidly. Really, he didn't know what to think.
He thought of the past two matches, how he had scored wins against his opponents. His mistakes, his flaws, his counters, his strengths. It all seemed to stick out to him. Though something that struck important to him was his next obstacle, his next opponent, Stryfe.
Patrick had always kept his eye on this wrestler. Something made him stand out, his ability in the ring. No doubt, he was a talented wrestler. However, deep down inside Patrick Glenn, he knew that victory had already been clinched. Sure, he'd be competition. But you put Patrick Glenn into that ring, you don't see an average match.
You saw a match that was labelled PG. Patrick Glenn was never the opponent to stay behind the cheers. He was always left-right and center when it came to fan favorites. Patrick shines through all the glory.
He predicted how the match would go. The technicality, the basis of the event. His strategy, his game plan. Would it work out? Confidence was surely held within his soul. Patrick Glenn had heart, and that heart propels him through every match. He knew that if you can match the love for the game and love for respect with a large amount of confidence, you're ability could shoot through the roof.
And yet he sat, an unknown clause.
Though he will find out soon enough, that he is the best. He could never be duplicated. There could never be a Patrick Glenn, nor would anybody surpass his level of talent.
l| Sasha |l Hun, where's my dress?
She called out from the bathroom, applying a set of earings to her lobes. Her image laid in the mirror, fixed, but not perfect. Only a momentary state of mind, but she didn't know that. She figured all was better, everything was going to work out just fine.
l| Patrick |l It's hanging up in the closet.
He shouted, then to only huff these words under his breath:
l| Patrick |l I think...
The time had passed, and soon enough it was time to head out. Patrick simply applied a casual suit's top over his shoulders, matching with the rest of his outfit as Sasha looked like a queen. It wasn't long before they were out the door, Patrick being polite and peeling his coat off himself and wrapping it around Sasha, giving her a sense of warmth, yet an unknowingly great deal of comfort.
They had taken the elevator ride down together, carrying on a short conversation, a few jokes and the random looks. As the elevator doors open, Patrick and his girlfriend had stepped out and continued down a short hallway until proceeding outside, yet to only be flocked by a rather large group of reporters and camera men.
l| Reporter |l You're now in round three, Patrick, what does it feel like?
l| Reporter |l How do you feel about your opponent Stryfe?!
l| Reporter |l What do you think of the Roughkut Invitational?!
Patrick tried to keep a hold of his girlfriend, but the oncoming actions had only seperated their hands apart, shoving Patrick Glenn back, forcing him back to the hotel's exterior.
Patrick struggled, trying to find his girlfriend in the crowd, though unable to see over many of their heads. He moved from side to side, but he was cornered by a flock of reporters, each hungry for answers.
l| Patrick |l Sasha?!
It was useless, the sound of all the questions thrown at him were draining out the street cars, the noise from other pedestrians. Not a single thing could be heard as Patrick suddenly stopped. He was once on his tip-toes, now flat on his heels.
He wanted to say "Screw The Invitational" right there. His relationship was in jeopardy, he was very aware of that. Much without thought, he stared down the reporters, hoping to get passed them by answering a few their questions.
It seemed everything he wanted had become a reality, but at the wrong moment.
l| Patrick |l Look, Stryfe is a very good competitor, no doubt about that. However, I am going to show him just exactly what it's like to step in the ring with a legend. A man that has never lossed, a man that will never lose. This Invitational only gets harder as you go along, but for Stryfe, this is his last moment. The last time he will find himself in this huge, one-hundred and twenty-eight man tournament with the one, Mr. PG himself.
The crowd seemed to fall to a shorter silence, still filled with the screams of questions wanting answers, but at least half of the crowd were silent, jotting down the words he was saying. He was in control. Patrick was superior to the wrestling world, but he wasn't superior in his life. He was slipping, slowly slipping further away from his perfect life.
l| Patrick |l I'm going to sound repetitive in this tournament, and I will continue to sound repetitive. Unless somebody makes a change, I'm gonna' be saying the same things to each and every opponent I face.
l| Patrick |l They can all dream, they can all fantasize about being the best. But truly, only one can be the best. That man is me, Patrick Glenn. It's not Stryfe, Stryfe will just be another man eliminated as thousands of people watch me pin his shoulders down for the three. I have all the respect for this man, he's made it this far, but my respect for him isn't going to hold me back. The only thing I can tell Stryfe, is that "I'm sorry, and better luck next year."
He tried to move out, but once again he was held back. His back touched the wall slightly, his shirt sticking to the brick with the slightest amount of static, the anger ceasing in his eyes.
l| Patrick |l Look, I have to go. Excuse me.
A thousand different voices sounded out to him, pleading him to answer one more question. Just one last question, the one that could answer everybody's to the perfect extent. That time would never happen, he thought, shoving his way through the crowd.
After a good ten seconds, he found himself free. Staring around, he tried to catch his eye on Sasha. Nowhere to be found, he stood still. That moment was the crashing of his ego.
The crowd surrounded him once again, pleading for answers, pleading for that one last promo. He licked his lips, eyes penetrated the the cement before him. The moment he jaw opened, the few words spilling out, he knew he had made a mistake.
l| Patrick |l Look, I'm sorry, Sasha.
l| Sasha |l Sure you are-
She gasped out, before choking on the saliva in her mouth. She stood broken, hovered over the toilet and tears running freely down her face, dripping into the toilet below. She tried desperately to breath, but her body just managed to quiver unctontrollably.
On the other side of the door was Patrick Glenn. His right hand pressed up against the wood, the forehead rolling back and forth, his eyes down towards the crease of the door, awaiting for a shadow.
l| Patrick |l I know I messed up. I got taken away and I didn't make the move to go after you. I just stood there like an idiot...
l| Sasha |l Did you finish the promo?
The thoughts now raced in his head, faster than ever before. Though each thought seemed to have been sliced in half, his heart beating at a much faster beat, skipping. Patrick turned, now placing his back towards the door, looking up and blowing his cheeks out wide.
l| Sasha |l Did you finish it?
l| Patrick |l Yes...
He turned his back in towards the door, a shadow now appearing at the crease. Slightly the door opened, then much faster to open widely. A tear-eyed woman stood there, maskera running down her face.
l| Sasha |l You can go eat dinner alone.
She stormed out of the room, quickly brushing past Patrick, opening up the entry door and storming down the hall, her hand raising and wiping the black maskera off her cheeks. Patrick stood in the doorframe, watching her intently.
l| Patrick |l Sasha...
It was useless to follow her. Neither would have benefited from the situation, only time would be wasted. And there he stood, watching her go. Further and further away...
He turned back into the room, walked towards the bed and sat down. He slouched over, his elbows to his knees, his head to his hands. The fingertips gripping the roots of his hair as his teeth clenched, he finally breathed.
Finally his thoughts became clear. Everything else seemed to disperse as one thing stood out. The incident...
Biting his lower lip, he took a deep breath, his chest growing larger before sinking down to a flop. He looked around the crowd, staring into the eyes of each and every single reporter before him.
l| Patrick |l One more? One more promo? One more question? I may not answer every single question you guys have, but I'm sure the match is on your mind. "What does Patrick Glenn have to say?" Well, to be honest with you, I don't know what the perfect thing to say. I can't give everyone what they want. But if you're with me, I'm sure you'll enjoy me ranting about how I'm going to win. About how I'm going to completely annihilate my opponent. Well, you can watch the match. My words aren't going to influence Stryfe, he's not going to watch this on his television screen and figure the match is over already.
l| Patrick |l No, he's going to get motivated. He's going to improvise on what I say and use it as an incentive. Nowadays wrestlers just feed off of their opponents to get them psyched up for the match, or possibly, to even get the crowd on their side. But Stryfe, if the crowd gets on your side, congratulations. Though that crowd is not going to win you a match. It'll only get your adrenalin rushing and the blood flowing through your body. And once that happens, bam, I snap on you like a broken twig.
He licked his lips, his hands beginning to motion to the audience. Pacing back and forth were his fingers, his headstrong sense of engagement.
l| Patrick |l You'll get caught up in the heat of the moment, and I will put your fire out faster than you can say your name. I have you in the palm of my hand. Unless you can manage to outhink, outwit Mr. PG himself, you're not going anywhere.
l| Patrick |l And we all know that's not going to happen...
A smirk, a rather cocky smirk pressed up his cheeks and shone his white teeth. There was almost the look of superiority on his face. Almost.
l| Reporter |l Do you proclaim yourself a legend in the making?
l| Patrick |l No. I proclaim myself a king.
l| Reporter |l And Stryfe?
l| Patrick |l My peasant...
He walked away, working his way through the crowd as the voices continued to rumble, the flashes going off. He turned his back to the reporters and slowly walked away for the better. The hole he had dug himself into, he was now trying to escape. This is not an easy task, nor will it ever be. It didn't hit him until he was away from the media. It had hit him like a tonne of bricks. However; Frantically, he had picked up a shovel and dug...
With the head of his shovel missing.
l| Patrick |l Come on baby, can we at least talk it over? I don't care what you have to do, drop the hammer down on me...
l| Sasha |l I'm doing what I have to now.
l| Patrick |l You don't have to do this. Quit packing and just talk. Please.
She ignored him, continuing to pull clothes out of the bottom dresser and stuffing them unfolded into her suitcase. Patrick just sat there, his eyes jotting up and down before coming to an end, staring down at the floor.
l| Patrick |l I- I just don't understand what I have to do...
l| Sasha |l It's not what you do now, it's what you did. You left me to hang out there. I deserve better than that Patrick.
l| Patrick |l You do. I screwed up, I got caught up in myself. Something I try to teach you, the fans, everybody. The biggest mistake I can tell anyone else, I fell for. But at least I know one thing, I can benefit from this situation. Both of us can.
She paused slightly, holding a ragged red dress in her hand and staring up at Patick Glenn. Around five feet away, she seeked for his eyes but caught nothing.
l| Sasha |l I know you meant no harm. But I'm beginning to think that you're not the same man I fell in love with.
l| Patrick |l I'm still myself. I can go back, I can shadow myself from the media. Whatever you want, I can do it.
l| Sasha |l It's not that. It's that you're trapped inside something that can never go back. Face it, PG is not my man. Patrick is. PG has his eyes set on the prize, he's working hard to get himself worked up against Stryfe. He's going to go on and become the greatest wrestler alive. My Patrick is just a mere personality of him... I know it seems crazy-
l| Patrick |l But you're right...
His lips slowly began to cringe downwards. The frown seemed to have more control than what he had. His lips quivering, his body shaking. He sat there a wreck, now with his head in his hands.
l| Sasha |l You're not a bad guy, Pat. You made a mistake. A big mistake. It may seem small to you, but it means way more than that to a woman. I'm contemplating whether we should continue this relationship.
His mouth opened, but no words came out.
l| Sasha |l Friends?
Patrick shook his head, a tear rolling down his right eye. The clippings of the notches to the suitcase echoed off to the room. She had gotten off her knees, holding the suitcase in hand and walking towards the door. Her left hand grabbed the knob, another hand grabbing her wrist.
He turned her around, the suitcase dropping out of her hand. Never had Patrick looked so determined.
l| Patrick |l I screwed up. I admit it. I've changed, I admit it. All I want is a second chance. Just please, give me a second chance. I've given you a sense of pride, a sense of direction. My devotion lacks, but I'm willing to change. I'll make sacrifices. You name it, I'll do it. Just please, don't leave me.
She stared at him with a cold look in her eyes. She swallowed the remaining saliva in her mouth, her eyes aligned perfect to his.
l| Sasha |l Quit the tournament.
His head dropped down to his chest. An instant thought, an instant decision became in tact. He liften his head high. He kept it there.
l| Patrick |l I'm sorry.
It killed him to say the words. It killed him to watch the tear flow from her eye. She dropped down, picking up her suitcase and turning the knob blindly behind her.
l| Sasha |l Thanks- For everything...
One last blink took place, shooting more tears down her face as she turned around, facing herself to the hallway. Sasha had walked. Perhaps to a better place, perhaps to an even greater Hell. Patrick watched, his hand to the edge of the door. Softly he pushed the door, closing it.
He wished this could have all been avoided. He wished this would have never happened in the first place.
He wanted to punch a hole in the wall. He needed something to take his anger out on. He waited.
He's waiting for that oppertunity.
That oppertunity is for Stryfe.
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