Pain Today, Strength Tomorrow

“The Pain You Feel Today is the Strength You Feel Tomorrow. Remember that, Nate.”

The five-year-old boy smiled back at his father, trying not to be obvious in the fact that he was focusing his attention on the gaping wound that had been busted open on the older man’s forehead.

“It doesn’t matter what you find yourself doing in the future, whether you’re fighting in a ring like me or saving lives in some emergency room. There will be days when fighters lose a match and when doctors lose a patient. You have to take those losses in life and turn them into lessons for another day.”

The words were soaking in, but in that moment, young Nathanial Darling found it difficult not to watch as the doctor’s needle weaved in and out of the skin on his dad’s forehead.

“You might lose a friend, you might lose someone you love, and those things are gonna hurt. The important thing to remember is that you only hold onto the pain for a short time. Hold it in and accept it, but not for too long. After you’ve given the pain its fair share of time, turn it into something better. Use it to make yourself stronger.”

Clive Darling winced as the sides of the open cut on his head were being pulled back together. The steel chair had done its damage and cost him another match, but that wasn’t where his thoughts were focused. They were focused on the boy who was depending on him to pass on everything he’d learned in life, whether those lessons came from the inside of a ring or not.

“There are a lot of people in this world who will want to keep you down. Even when you find success, they’ll be out there waiting to take what you’ve earned for themselves. Some of them might even try hurting you if it helps them get ahead. Turning your pain into lessons, making it into something of value, is just one way you can stay a step ahead of them. So you take the hit, learn from it, and the next time they try, you’ll know how to block and fire back with one of your own.”

Clive finally noticed his son’s eyes regularly darting back to the stitches being applied on his forehead. Wondering if his words had fallen on deaf ears, he reached out to ruffle the strawberry blonde hair on top of the boy’s head.

“You hear me, sport?”

Indy met his father’s gaze and responded with a smile and a nod of his head. He’d heard every word, but he still couldn’t wait until he’d have the chance to earn some stitches of his own.

“That’s a good lad. And remember, you’re my son. You’re Nathanial Darling, and that’s not just good enough, it’s better than the rest.”




The injection of anti-inflammatory medication into his lower back had turned into a familiar sting. The thought of having a needle so near his spine didn’t even make Indy cringe anymore. It was just another day of delaying the inevitable, of prolonging his time in the ring. Laying facedown on the table with his eyes closed, Indy’s silent meditation was interrupted by the voice of his spinal specialist.

“Taking that tag match at the last minute was a bad idea. It’s bad enough when you’re competing overseas, but it seems like you’re taking more matches every time I advise against it.”

There was no question to answer, so Indy opted to remain silent. That didn’t prevent the doctor from continuing to press.

“I don’t suppose you’ve reconsidered competing at King of the World? Maybe vacate your title or just hand it over to your opponent?”

This time Indy responded with a laugh that shook his body and made it more difficult for the doctor to finish the injection. His physician’s frustration could be heard in his voice.

“I assumed as much. We’re almost done, just promise you’ll take it easy for a couple of days before diving back into your training. The more strain you put on your back, the weaker it’s going to get. It’s like a paper clip that you keep bending back and forth. It’s only a matter of time until it eventually snaps. Try to remember that the next time you decide to compete.”

The feeling of gauze and tape being applied to his lower back meant that the worst was over. In this case, the worst was being unable to avoid his doctor’s warnings while there was a needle shoved into his flesh. Several minutes later he would be walking away from the clinic as if none of it had happened. There was a smile on his face and his ongoing spinal issues were far from his mind. That’s because he had a date with a needle of another kind altogether.



“The Pain You Feel Today is the Strength You Feel Tomorrow”

Florence had suggested that his first tattoo should be something meaningful, and Indy’s mind immediately went to his dad. That was the easy part. Narrowing down the various lessons and words of wisdom to just one phrase that would permanently be etched into his skin was another matter. He had taken the young woman’s advice and given it a lot of thought. Ultimately, the chosen phrase seemed to stand out above the rest. Indy wasn’t sure if it was because of what he had been going through recently, or if he related it to the pain he felt when he first lost his father, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made.

While her name may have been old-fashioned, he couldn’t help but think how Florence was anything but the opposite. The tattoos that covered her skin were true works of art, many of which she had designed and created herself. After meeting just a few days earlier and hearing her offer to take his tattoo virginity, it seemed like their meeting was more than just a chance encounter. It had been something he’d wanted to do for months, and finding someone whose style spoke to him, someone who took their craft so seriously, was almost too good to be true. The stopover in New York wasn’t even a big deal, with his regular physical therapy before heading to the islands bringing him to the Big Apple anyway.

Then there was the needle itself. After months of back injections, Indy assumed the feeling of a tattoo needle against his skin would be no big deal. His assumption turned out to be correct, but he couldn’t say whether that was because of his natural pain tolerance or because of the skilled woman holding it. Even when she warned him of discomfort with the needle rubbing so close to his collarbone, it wasn’t enough to cause a complaint.

The pair made idle conversation while she worked, and Indy could not help but be grateful for the chance to learn more about Florence. He only hoped that she felt the same way. While his recent relationship with Crystal Ward had ended in dramatic fashion, Indy felt as if they’d never truly been comfortable with each other to begin with. There was always that sense of needing to say something just for the sake of avoiding silence, but with Florence, the words came as naturally as her graceful movements with the needle gun. He felt at ease with being taken off his guard around her, and it was the kind of feeling he knew he could get used to.

When her work was finished, she gave him the kind of smile that betrayed her nervousness. She was genuinely concerned whether or not he would like the finished piece, but when Indy set his eyes on the stylized script above his heart, there were no doubts in his mind. It was perfect. Despite the pinkness of his irritated skin, Indy knew that he was immediately happy that he’d decided to go through with it. He told her how much he loved it, how much he appreciated the work she’d put into it, and in that moment of exchanged smiles, their eyes locked just a little longer than you would expect from a pair of friends. It made him wish he could stay in the city just a little while longer, but the life he’d chosen would not allow it.



The swelling on his chest and in his lower back had both improved by the next day, as Indy felt the familiar sand of the WrestleWorld Islands beneath his feet. Watching the surf roll in under the early morning sky, with his jeans rolled up around his calves and his shoes hanging over his shoulder, it was hard for Indy to think about why he was really there. His closest friends, what little family he had, and yes, even Florence were all thousands of miles away. There was only one person on the islands that deserved his full and undivided attention. Some might even say he had been begging for it, and after their contract signing devolved into a brawl at the last Dominion, Indy was ready to give Jacob Striker everything he’d wanted and then some.

With his normal blue aviators covering his eyes, the shirtless Territorial Champion gives the drone camera in front of him a slight smile when he begins to speak.

“Can you hear that?”

He pauses briefly, the rolling ocean waves reflected in the blue-tinted lenses of his glasses.

“Can you hear the roar with every new wave breaking on the shore? Most people would only need a second before knowing that sound. To me, it’s the sound of thousands upon thousands of fans showing their appreciation for what Jacob Striker and I are going to be doing in that ring at King of the World. I may not like what every fan is cheering for; I may not like the same things that they do; but I can’t deny that there’s nothing in the world better than the sound of a sold out arena sharing a passion for the sport I love.”

Indy cannot suppress his smile as he thinks about the upcoming event and the crowd that will watch him perform.

“That’s how I can tolerate people like Jacob Striker. It’s how I can look past his loud mouth, his dishonorable methods, and his annoying personality traits. Take all of that away, and somewhere in the pit of his rotting soul is a passion for this business. Of course I don’t like him. I may never like him, and he probably feels the same way about me. But take away the things we’ve said or done to each other, cut right down to the bone, and he’s still a talented son of a bitch. That’s something I will never try to take away from Jacob Striker. I’ll give the devil his due. Whether I like how he got this shot at the Territorial Championship or not, he fought for this spot and I know damned well that he’s going to do everything in his power to capitalize on it.”

He continues to watch the waves roll in with a roar, slightly turning his head to take in the entire shoreline before continuing to share his thoughts.

“I should know. I did the same thing. I also know that getting the shot and giving it everything you have isn’t always enough. It worked for me when I faced Michael Bishop, but when I had my opportunity against Zane, it was an entirely different story. At King of the World, I’ll be playing the part that Zane played in my own contendership story. Jacob Striker is the challenger who believes he’s on the cusp of greatness, and I’m the spoiler. In just a few days, Striker is going to fully understand the agony of coming up short against the Territorial Champion.”

The slight smile that remains on Indy’s face does not betray the confidence that can be heard in his voice.

“There’s a harsh reality that Jake needs to think about. When I lost to Zane, people still knew that I had more to give. They knew I had more mountains to climb and that they hadn’t seen the last of “Everyone’s Favorite”. Will it be a similar story for Striker after King of the World? Will they look at him and see a man who has what it takes to drag himself back up the side of a cliff for another shot at glory? Will they see a guy with more kingdoms to conquer, or will they look at Jacob Striker and see someone who’s already reached their peak? The funny thing about that is even with the Territorial Championship around my waist, I still haven’t reached the pinnacle of what I’m capable of. I learn from every opponent I’m in the ring with, from every new move I get hit with. Absorb, adapt, and overcome. Take the pain and turn it into a lesson. Just like how I took the loss that Zane handed me and turned it into victory over Bishop. That’s what I’m about, why I’ve made it to the spot I’m in. As for Jacob Striker? Maybe being second best is as good as he can ever hope for with a guy like me standing on top of the mountain.”

Indy forces himself to pull his eyes away from the tide, focusing them on the camera drone that’s hovering in front of him.

“That may seem like a confident statement to make, but it’s no more presumptuous than how Striker presents himself. Maybe I’m off the mark, but it seems like he doesn’t see me as championship material. He doesn’t see me as “The Guy”. Let me make something perfectly clear for all of the Jacob Strikers of the world; when it comes to Dominion, I am most definitely “The Guy”. If you can look at my record with the two losses I’ve had, and still wonder why I’m holding the championship, nothing I can say will fix the problems in your head. If you can watch the main event quality matches I’ve had with everyone from Amber Payne to Don Jordan and not understand that I’ve earned this spot, nothing I say will change your mind. If you’re one of the many who are aware that I pushed Zane to her limits and you still have your doubts? I guess I’m wasting my breath.”

Indy gives a slight shrug of his shoulders as if the questions he’s posing have him baffled.

“I don’t know if that’s how Jacob Striker really thinks or if it’s just part of the tough guy act he’s presenting, but any doubts about my ability that might be lingering in his head will be washed away like the sand on this beach at King of the World. Call it a promise, a vision of the future, or a money back guarantee. The bottom line is that I will be the Territorial Champion when I walk into the show, and I’ll still be the champion when I walk out. It doesn’t matter how talented or determined Jacob Striker might be; I know in my heart that his desire to be the best is a pale shadow on a cloudy day compared to mine.”

As if on cue, a ray from the rising sun is reflected in his aviators, as it creates a dark silhouette on the sand.

“That doesn’t mean I’m looking past him. I said it before and I’ll say it again; I respect his skills and willingness to do whatever it takes when the bell rings. It’s just not enough to beat me at my best, and that’s the truth about what Jacob Striker is heading into, like a diver who hasn’t bothered to see what’s under the surface of the waves. He’s charging headfirst into the best that Dominion has to offer. That’s not because I’m the Territorial Champion. It’s not because I’m “Everyone’s Favorite”. It’s because I’m Indy Darling, and that’s not just good enough, it’s better than second best.”





“You’re a bastard, Kurtis. The sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be.”

The five-year-old boy with the snow white hair and pale blue eyes didn’t know what that word meant, but even at that young age he could hear the contempt in his mother’s voice when she said it.

“I don’t care if you blame me for it or not, but the real blame belongs to your father. He chose not to be here. He chose to abandon you. So all of that hate and resentment that’s going to build up? Hold it for as long as you can and when you can’t keep it bottled up any longer, use it to make this shitty world regret how it treats its bastards.”

His mother took a drag from her cigarette as she sat in the driver’s seat of her rusted-out car. The entire vehicle smelled like the smoke she blew out of her nose, only more stagnant. To little Kurtis, it smelled like home. His mother kept the boy’s attention as she let out a heavy sigh.

“Fuck. I hate bringing you with me like this, but that goddamned bitch next door threatened to call child services if she found you home alone again. Fucking cunt needs to die already.”

As she took another drag, Kurtis noticed a strange man approaching his mother’s side of the car. He watched him draw closer with the kind of curious eyes that most boys his age would use to study insects or puzzles.

“Hey, baby. You looking for a good time tonight?”

He had never seen the man before, but his mother seemed to speak to him with a familiarity that he found...peculiar. The man seemed nervous as he nodded his head, and little Kurtis wondered why he would act that way if he and his mother were friends.

“Cash or powder. I don’t care how you pay as long as you do it up front.”

Kurtis’ mother took a moment from treating the stranger to her honeyed tone of voice to turn her head in his direction.

“Go play in the park across the street until I call for you. And remember, you don’t need to be scared of the dark. The only monster out there is you.”

In those early years, Kurtis’ albinism was so apparent that one might think he looked like an angel when he exited the car so that the stranger could take his seat. Then, after crossing the street without looking in either direction, they may have thought of him as a ghostly apparition, returned from the dead after being struck down by a passing motorist. Kurtis wasn’t aware of these things. As he walked to the swingset and placed his slender frame on the seat, he only knew that he was a bastard. That he was the only monster in the surrounding darkness. He watched in silence as his mothers distant silhouette merged with that of the strange man, and in his young mind, he knew all of these things were his father’s fault.




“You bastard.”

Senator Margaret Carmichael was clearly not happy with him. As Kurtis sat across from her with a slight grin on his face, he thought about what it might feel like to press his lips against those of the older woman while his hands enveloped her slender neck. Despite her position of power or the time put into her public face, there were times when she reminded him of the whore who had birthed him. Only as a politician, she was a whore in a different kind of way. In those rare moments, it was hard for him not to imagine kissing her goodbye before choking the last flicker of life from her body.

“I hired you for a job. I’ve been paying you for months, and so far I’ve seen precious little to warrant that kind of investment. It’s not like I’m asking for much. You could have broken his legs a long time ago and saved me a lot of headaches.”

Kurtis continued to smile as he considered the strangeness of her request. Imagine, a United States Senator so embarrassed by her only son and the profession he’d chosen, that she’d be willing to pay someone to break his legs. It was the kind of affection and attention that his own mother had never bothered to show him, so how could he refuse?

“That entire business is a joke. Even when I make the news in a positive light, they can’t help but to remind everyone how I have an illegitimate son who covers himself in baby oil to roll around with other men for the enjoyment of freaks and outcasts. He’s a champion for one company, a member of staff for another, and he still spends his days off in bingo halls and high school gymnasiums to spread his degenerate form of entertainment.”

She tended to ramble on and on whenever calling for a clandestine meeting. It only made him want to torture her with the kind of intimacy he’d normally reserve for someone who’d crossed him.

“I don’t care where, when, or how. I want him out of that business, out of the public eye. Consider this your last chance. If I don’t see results within the next couple of weeks, our arrangement will end and I’ll be forced to take a different approach. No more messages and no more games. They're not doing a damn thing to change his mind. I want it done physically. Do I make myself clear?”

Kurtis slowly rose from his chair and took a step toward the Senator’s desk, the only thing separating the two of them. Slowly, he reached up with his hand, raising it toward her flushed cheek.

“What...what are you…”

The fingers of his black leather glove gently traced a line along the edge of her face, as he continued to smile and stare at her with those pale, blue eyes.

“I told you before; I’d hurt your son for free. Pay me or don’t. The wheels are already in motion, and Nathanial Darling is as good as dead.”

Margaret was momentarily taken aback by the statement and the boldness of the young man’s actions.

“What? No...I...I never said anything about killing…”

“Shhhhh. It’s okay, Maggie. Everything is going to be okay now. Trust me.”

His hand was back at his side before she even knew that he’d moved it away from her face. As he turned his back to her, Senator Carmichael felt a shiver run down her spine as the smell of stagnant smoke lingered in his wake.