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[Opponent: Little Jim] There he stood. Empty.
I couldn't believe when I saw him crawl up into a ball, hiding himself from publicity. He stayed in his rooms for days, ignoring his training, his normal diet consisting of mainly protein. He seemed so shallow, the beard now slowly starting to form on his face.
Patrick had written himself a couple of promos, looking to shoot one off at the show, but by the way he was looking now, it hadn't seemed likely. Patrick Glenn was a mess, sitting cold above the sheets on his bed.
On the back of the door hung the "Do Not Disturb" card.
A slight knock had hit the door, Patrick's head slowly turning left to the sound. He didn't bother to move, not a single muscle gave ease.
Knock!
Knock!
Knock!
l| Patrick |l Go away. Can't you read the "Do Not Disturb" sign?
l| ??? |l All I want-
l| Patrick |l I'm not in the mood to have any reporters hassling me. I'm not going to talk about my personal life, I'm not going to talk about Little Jim. Just go away and leave me be.
l| ??? |l It's me, man. Chris. Come on, man. Don't be having me drive over twelve hours for nothing. Let me in, Pat.
All he had done was rearrange himself on the mattress. His hands had clutched the pillow, almost in an angry sense. His balance was thrown off, forcing him to slouch on his right forearm.
l| Patrick |l Why'd you come out here, Chris? Why did you even bother?
l| Chris |l Honestly?
l| Patrick |l Did Sasha run off and tell everybody what a prick I was? Huh? Let me guess, you want a shot at Patrick Glenn too. Well get in line.
l| Chris |l Dude, you sound like an idiot. I'm not here to kick your ass. Just open up, I need to get your damn life in order.
l| Patrick |l I don't need a counsellor.
Three light taps sounded on the door. Three more strikes sounded off louder, even more aggressive as Patrick's shoulders tensed up, grinding up his neck. The shiver quickly ended as Patrick shoved himself out of the bed.
l| Chris |l Open up, man. I can hear you moving in there.
The comment had seemed to have run right through him as he walked towards the door, his feet making no swift action. Each thump echoing off in the room before his hand grabs the knob suddenly and twists, the door opening for the first time in days.
l| Chris |l You look like a mess...
l| Patrick |l Just get in...
With a last glance down the hallway, Chris steps in, brushing past Patrick Glenn and stopping in the entrance, eyeing down the mess of a room. Glenn closes the door softly, ensuring he hasn't caused any reactions. His back settles up against the door as he looks at Chris, who's back is towards him.
l| Chris |l She was your maid too?
l| Patrick |l It's not the time, Chris.
A stern look is delivered as Chris turns around, looking down the facial expression. A slight smirk crosses his face as he backs into the room and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, Patrick following in.
l| Patrick |l So why did you really come here?
l| Chris |l As odd as this sounds, I agree with what you're doing.
l| Patrick |l What am I doing?
l| Chris |l Your sacrifice. You went down a path, a better one in my opinion. Even though you took a path that could nearly destroy a man, you will see the light at the end of the tunnel. You have so many options on the table, hell, you could go out and get another girl that's-
l| Patrick |l Please. I'm not in the mood...
His head shook as Chris turned in towards him. Patrick was laid flat out on the bed, his head resting against a pillow that had been pinned up against the headrest. Chris slowly inched closer, setting his elbow on the mattress, his temple to his palm.
l| Chris |l Anyways, what I'm saying is this: You've made a lot of sacrifices to get to where you are today. You can't just toss them away. Especially at a time like this! You're going up against the biggest dude in the tournament. He's the most favored. This is your time to shine, this is your time to prove just who the Hell you are! Little Jim is a tough opponent, no doubt, but you're on that same podium. You may not look like it right now, but you're definitely on that same podium. It shouldn't be Little Jim with all the fans rooting for him. No, no, no, it should be Patrick Glenn expected to win that precious invitational. You got that?
l| Patrick |l Mr. PG himself is a bit on low right now.
l| Chris |l Screw PG, bring out Patrick Glenn. Bring out that young kid who started wrestling when he was nineteen! The one who would get right back up after screwing up trying to soften the landing. How many times did you head smack the canvas in your very first match? How many?
l| Patrick |l Twenty-two.
l| Chris |l And how long did that head injury sustain?
l| Patrick |l A week and a half.
l| Chris |l So what's stopping you now?! You're back is used to falling to the canvas, your neck has strengthened now, your head is safe and secure. Your arms are not fragile. Your legs are not weak. What's holding you back, Patrick?
Not a word was said, just the glazed look in Chris' eye, pleading for the right answer. His hands cupped with feriocity. He waited-
l| Patrick |l Nothing...
He had waited for the right answer.
l| ??? |l Patrick, I have a fan that wants to talk to you. He's definitely one of your biggest.
The woman had said, peeking her head through the slightly open door. An odd look ceased her face, almost as if keeping something secret from Patrick on the other side of the door. Her lips began to mutter out silent words, Patrick's face showing he has no idea what she was saying. He shrugs, holding his palms up towards the ceiling.
l| Patrick |l Bring him in.
Her head slipped through the crack just before the door began to open, the woman's hand holding onto a child's. She helped him in through the door before hauling him to a stop in the center of the room. He was covered in Canadian merchandise, with a blue hat perched on top of his head. Sunglasses covered his eyes as he kept his head low and towards the floor.
Patrick thought the kid was just shy. He leaned forward a bit, trying to get a better view of the kid's face. The hat sustained his secretive facial features.
l| Patrick |l How's it goin', bud?
Just as Patrick began to unwind the tape around his wrists, the woman had handed him a piece of paper. His eyes glaring across the white loose leaf before him, until finding the pair of words which had explained it all.
"He's Blind"
l| Patrick |l So you're my biggest fan, huh?
l| Child |l Yep.
l| Patrick |l Ah, I see. So you must have your room just filled with Patrick Glenn posters, eh?
l| Child |l No, but I have three posters of you.
With the shakiness in his voice, he held up three fingers. His tongue edged around his lips, leaving a glistening line of saliva. Slowly, his head moved up a tiny bit.
l| Patrick |l Three? Ah man, I only have two! Say, could you be like a brother to me and maybe- say- I don't know, perhaps lend me one?
A smile settled in on the child's face, his shoulders moving from left to right in a joyous motion. The hands in which he had behind his back were now at his side, the sweat being rubbed off onto his jogging pants.
l| Child |l Well I don't know. They cost'ed me thirty cents.
l| Patrick |l That's a lot of money. I wish I had that much. Do you do chores at home?
l| Child |l Nope.
l| Patrick |l Lucky. When I was your age, well, okay I was lucky too. So are you watching the Roughkut Invitational?
Patrick edged off the locker room bench he was sitting on, moving closer to the child and lifting him high in the air, watching him as he giggled before his eyes. Patrick then sat the child down on the bench next to him.
l| Child |l Yeah. Daddy tells me what's going on in the match.
l| Patrick |l So do you know all the moves?
l| Child |l Most of them.
l| Patrick |l How'd you learn them?
l| Child |l Daddy teaches me them.
l| Patrick |l Well you know what? I'm going to give you something special. How about this, I'll have my assistant take you back to your family and later on in the night, I'll come out and show you the surprise. Alright?
An unsure look crossed on the young child's face, the gesture on his lips continually changing frantically. Patrick slid off the bench to one knee, looking up to the kid, putting himself under power.
l| Patrick |l Trust me, you're going to have one special night. Now I'll get my assistant to take you back to your mother and father and we can talk after the show is over, 'kay? Is that cool with you?
l| Child |l Yup.
A smile had shone. The magic in the young boy's eyes had shone through the sunglasses, the ever-loving sensation of warmth filling the room.
l| Chris |l Okay, now let's focus on Little Jim. You know his strengths? You know his weaknesses?
l| Patrick |l No.
l| Chris |l Okay then, we'll look over his last few matches. You're aware of his age, height, weight?
l| Patrick |l He's a small dude, maybe five-nine. Probably weighs around one-seventy. Age roughly around thirty. He's definitely in good condition.
l| Chris |l Perfect. All you need to do is keep your body weight transferred over his and make sure he doesn't get under you. You're not a slow dude either, Pat, you can keep up with him easily. Come on, when I was your manager back in Winnipeg, you were facing athletes like this on a regular basis. They're nothing to you, understood?
Patrick nodded his head, yes. His palms rubbed up against his thighs, drooling his sweaty hands dry. His eyes grew intense, a spark or flame beginning to arise in his pupils.
l| Chris |l Let's face it, Little Jim is the biggest name in this tournament. He's got a huge target on his back. And guess what? You're the headhunter. I know you have it in you, you can beat this guy. You beat Little Jim and guess what, Patrick Glenn is in the spotlight. You came here for that spotlight, right?
l| Patrick |l I came here to get my name known. I want the whole world to know who Patrick Glenn is. I just want people from the whole world to point and say my name. I'm not here for publicity, just to be known... ya' know?
l| Chris |l I have to break it to you, but you're going to have to fight publicity. If you win a tournament this big, you're bound to hit the papers. What did you think you were getting into?
l| Patrick |l I knew what I was getting into. I just didn't think it would effect me this much. This week has been a wreck, I mean, look at me. There's no Sasha by my side, there's no inspiration for me to continue.
His head drooped low, staring at the bed sheets before him. The shadow laid down on his chest as his head tilted away from Chris slightly. It had appeared Chris's body had gone limp in sorrow.
l| Chris |l This career requires big sacrifices. You made one. You're just playing your role. Besides, she'll be back. They always come back...
l| Patrick |l I hope so...
The odd silence fumes the room as Patrick begins to rub his right eye, then to wipe his fist off with the bed covering. He seems a frayed human, withered into pieces unable to be put back together in the same exact order.
l| Chris |l Come on, Pat. You're killing me seeing you like this, man. You need to focus on your career. I don't care what you do after this tournament, just don't wind up this way halfway through.
l| Patrick |l I'm trying. Honestly, I'm trying. Just give me a day or two, I'll watch the tapes, whatever I need to refocus myself on my career. I know I need to take out Little Jim, I'm just a bit low on fuel, alright?
l| Chris |l Well you need to get back your focus, and fast. Little Jim ain't no slouch.
l| Patrick |l Look, I appreciate everything you're doing for me, but I think I just need some time alone to think about things.
Chris' right hand slapped down pat on Patrick's shoulder, giving it a slight rub before pulling off. Without even looking at him, Patrick knew he was already standing off the bed and ready to leave.
l| Chris |l You do what you gotta' do. I'll be back later tonight to give you the tapes.
Glenn's breathing sudden became steady, something he hadn't been able to control in the past few days. Taking one final huff, he rearranged himself, his head on the pillow and his foot edging to the bottom of the bed. His eyes perched upon Chris who's back was turned to him.
Just then, Chris turned around, a smile gleaming on his face. Inside the palm of his right hand was a cell phone. A slight ring was beaming out of the cellular phone. With a wink, Chris tossed the phone at Patrick, the plastic object bouncing off the bed's mattress.
l| Chris |l Talk to her.
With Glenn's dumbfounded look crossed on his face, he had left.
In the middle of the ring was Patrick Glenn, his hands up in a pose, the fans screaming out his name. With a look of arrogance on his face, he retrieves a microphone from ringside. His music was slowly dying down as he found himself ready and prepared to throw out his two cents.
l| Patrick |l Now this is not my average message, this won't be about Patrick Glenn issuing another challenge out to a wrestler in the back of The "X" locker room. No, tonight I am adressing the Roughkut Invitational.
l| Jim Long |l For all of the fans that aren't aware, the Roughkut Invitational is a hundred and twenty-eight man tournament, including some of the greatest athletes in the business today!
l| Howie Cross |l That's great, can I go back to sleep now? I hate Patrick Glenn and I always will. Somebody put a god damn cooking apron around him already!
Patrick walks to the ropes, setting his forearms across the top and slouching over slight with the microphone in hand. His right foot is slowly being placed on the bottom rope as he turns his wrist, directing the microphone to his jaw.
l| Patrick |l Now this weekend, I will be facing none other than a man known as Little Jim. Some of you may know him, some of you may not, any way, it doesn't matter. This man is a big name in wrestling, but I want Little Jim to realize something. All of these fans you see in this arena, they're all on my side. They are The "X", they represent extreme and they don't settle for any crap. They will shove your talent down your throat if they don't like what they see. This is something I've grown accustom too and in all honesty, it has made me the fighter that I am today. And trust me Little Jim, I'm one hell of a fighter. Ask any man in this building, they'll tell you just who the Hell I am. I am Patrick Glenn, the perception of perfection.
l| Jim Long |l He certainly lives up to that standard. Not a loss has been added to his record. If anything, he's unbeatable.
l| Howie Cross |l He's just a cocky little bastard. Somebody should cut off his mike and we should all listen to me speak.
l| Patrick |l You better be ready Little Jim. I'm not Donovan Midas, I'm not Michelle Jany and I sure as Hell am not no Boulder. Patrick Glenn is no easy task, I'm not just some breeze in the wind. I'm the storm Jimmy, I will blow you away. Now don't get me wrong, you're quite the talented wrestler, but you're just not as talented as I am. You can pull your charades, you can try to outsmart me. It won't work, I'm the end of the road for you. And once I take you out, once I deliver The Answer and lay you flat out on the canvas, I hope your eyes aren't rolled into the back of your head. Why? I want you to watch helplessly as I drag my body over yours and I want you to hear those three slaps to the mat.
The fans count aloud as Patrick Glenn forces his index finger to the ceiling, then his middle finger, then for the third, his ring finger. He turns around to a loud cheer as Patrick walks to the other side of the ring.
l| Patrick |l Little Jim, I hope you can realize that this won't be an easy match. If you're going to pick up a win, you will need a bit of luck on your side, because if I come to the ring as ready and prepared as I have been for the past three matches, you will soon find yourself propped up against Sean Hunter, MDK, and Stryfe. You can ask any one of them, they'll tell you the exact same story.
l| Patrick |l You stand no chance.
l| Patrick |l Hope is useless, Little Jim. Look at my record, do you see a loss on there Little Jim? I've faced men who are faster than you, who are bigger than you, who are better submissionists than you. But look who always came out on top. I did.
l| Patrick |l You're special, but not special enough to change tradition.
Patrick takes a few seconds as the fans cheer at the top of their lungs, a few are out of their seats and giving him a big applaud. Once his breathing seems a bit more controlled, he begins to pace around the ring.
l| Howie Cross |l He sounds like the vein in his head is going to pop!
l| Jim Long |l He should be having a lot of enthusiasm. Patrick Glenn has a lot riding on him this match, he's the only man in The "X" in that tournament. Many other federations have two to even six men in the tournament!
l| Patrick |l You hear that? These fans agree, there's not a single man who can step up to my level. You can't hold a candle to my talent. Nobody can. If you think you stand a chance at beating me, you've already screwed yourself over. You should never underestimate me, you'll only be biting off more than you can chew, and trust me, I'm already a handful.
The camera zooms in on Patrick Glenn as he moves in towards the camera, inching closer, his face enlarging on the screen.
l| Patrick |l But there's one thing left I have to say to you, Little Jim. Don't get your hopes too high this match. Your ego will crash, your hopes will die, and you will realize I don't earn respect.
l| Patrick |l I take it.
With a roar from the fans, Patrick Glenn smiles. He waits a few seconds for the cheers to die down, the clapping to come to a stop.
l| Patrick |l However, this is not the only reason why I have come out here. I have also come out here to get another fact straight. In the audience is a little six year old boy who's somebody we should all look up to. Why? His strength, his courage and his will. This little man is no Patrick Glenn, he is no Little Jim. Everybody give a warm applause to Zachary Lawd!
A mixed reaction pops out from the crowd as security helps the child over the barricade in the first row. The family helps him up the ring steps and into the ring, where he grabs Patrick's hand. He is helped to the middle of the ring where Patrick Glenn stares into the crowd.
l| Patrick |l Now young Zachary here cannot see. He has been watching wrestling for the majority of his life, his father has taught him all of the moves. His father is like Jim Long, a commentator, well, except without that little dick of a commentator, Howie Cross.
The fans deliver a good laugh as a smile settles in on Zachary's face.
l| Patrick |l But since Zachary has been a longtime fan, and in my personal opinion, more of a man than me. I'd like to give him this special gift...
Patrick gets down to once knee and holds the microphone between the two.
l| Patrick |l Now Zachary, I have a bit of a problem. I get way too much money nowadays, and well, quite frankly I don't know what to spend it on. Zach, what do you think I should spend it on?
l| Zachary |l Baseball cards!
l| Howie Cross |l What a stupid child!
l| Jim Long |l Shut up, Howie!
The camera catches Patrick Glenn with a smile to his face, his body shaking with a chuckle. Zachary has a toothy young smile on his face.
l| Patrick |l Okay okay. But what do you think you'd want to get? Something that costs a lot of money.
l| Zachary |l Ummm... A go-kart!
l| Patrick |l Good choice. Now Zach, I'm going to go buy a go-kart. But you know what? It won't be for me. Since I admire your strength and courage, I am going to give that go-kart to you. Is that cool or what?
l| Zachary |l Yup!
l| Patrick |l But not only that, I'm going to make sure you're going to have a much better place to go home to. That's right, I'm donating one million dollars to your family for their support.
The camera zooms over to the family who's mother's face is covered in tears, with both hands clasped over her mouth. The father is grasping her wife firmly as his face is covered in joy.
l| Patrick |l And if you're drinking and driving... Drive home safely. Have a good night and enjoy the rest of the show.
l| Patrick |l You too, Little Jim.
At that, the music hits again as the scene fades to commercials...
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