Post by Indy Darling on Jan 19, 2021 1:11:52 GMT -5
A lot has happened in the life of Indy Darling since the first of the year, most of it good. In fact, all of it was good. Interest in his ring work started to spread, earning him bookings in various parts of the country during his off weeks from Project: Honor. With those extra bookings also came an increase in payoffs, earning him the kind of money that would have been hard to fathom just months prior.
Not only had Indy’s career outside of Project: Honor gotten a boost from his exposure on Netflix and major cable networks, but life inside the company had started to get better and better as well. Successfully defending the X-Factor Championship at Unbreakable Resolution was the first step, and emerging as the winner of the Triple Threat Main Event of the Proving Ground Draft Show had been one hell of a way to follow up on that earned momentum. Dickie Watson’s losses could be counted by a toddler, and while Indy hadn’t pinned the Grand Champion to take the match, the record books would still show him as the winner. In Indy’s mind, this accomplishment was on par with upsetting Colton Saint in early November and then defending his title inside a steel cage, and he wasn’t about to let it go to waste.
His friend, Julius, had found measures of his own success, and their progression as training partners convinced them to make the leap into the world of tag team wrestling. Despite being on opposite shows, there was no reason to think that they wouldn’t be able to join forces at pay per views or special events. Indy had been surprised by Julius’ aptitude in the squared circle, but what came as an even bigger surprise was his ability to talk his way into an exclusive program on Project: Honor’s website. Together, they were breaking down the professional walls that had threatened to hold them back.
These are just a few of the things on Indy’s mind as he’s caught unaware by a shaky handheld camera, operated by a man with a familiarly explicit way of speaking.
“Come on, motherfucker! Let’s roll with this shit!”
As the footage begins, the voice from behind the camera comes from Julius Fairweather. In the shot is Indy himself, wearing an insulated denim coat, black scarf, and his blue aviators, as usual. Yet judging from the scene, cutting a promo is the furthest thing from Indy’s mind. With snow coming down around them and a large scoop shovel in his hands, it quickly becomes obvious that even wrestling champions with TV gigs have to keep their sidewalks clear.
“Motherfucker! If I’ve got to take a break from sparring to stand out here in this shit, the least you can do is give me some motherfucking promo lessons!”
Shaking his head and pushing his shovel across the sidewalk in front of Miyagi’s gym, it doesn’t appear as if Indy is willing to play along.
“Promo work is the last thing you need help with, Julius. Except…”
Indy pauses, as if considering his words.
“Yeah? Speak up motherfucker! It ain’t getting any warmer up in this bitch!”
“It’s just, maybe you could work on dropping less F-bombs?”
There is a moment of silence between the two two men as Indy stares at his friend with a doubtful expression. After a few seconds, the silence is interrupted by deep-belly laughter from behind the camera.
“Motherfucker! I thought you were serious for a second! That’s some funny ass shit!”
Indy gives a slight smile and nods at the camera, unable to summon the strength to tell Julius that he wasn’t joking. He then goes back to work on the sidewalk, hoping that his friend will give up on his requests for a promo. Indy is not so fortunate.
“Now come on, tell everyone out there what it was like to main event the first Project motherfucking Honor show of the year!”
Indy lets out a sigh as he tosses a shovelful of snow aside. He then props up the shovel to lean on it, realizing that he’ll get his work done faster if he gives in and avoids arguing.
“I mean, what do you want me to say? It was a dream come true. Everyone in this business wants to be in the main event. To achieve that dream in front of all those people watching at home? For a growing company with the reputation of Project: Honor? It was more than just icing on the cake. It was another cake on top of the first cake.”
The camera tilts to the side, and we can tell that Julius has moved it away from his face to look at his tag team partner.
“That...was beautiful, motherfucker.”
“Really?”
The camera once again focuses on Indy as Julius raises it back to his face.
“No. That was some of the worst sentimental bullshit I’ve ever heard! Now where’s that rebel spirit? Where’s the fire that got the kid from the indies up to this level? Light up a smoke and shoot like you mean it, motherfucker!”
“I quit smoking…”
“Stop changing the subject, motherfucker!”
Indy lets out another sigh as he looks away from the camera, trying to process all of the emotions he felt at Proving Ground into some kind of coherent verbal address.
“Dickie Watson is the best in this company right now. His record doesn’t lie. T.J. Thompson is on the rise and as silly as they might be, Big Drip are hot as hell. To be in that match with them alone was an honor. To come out with the win...well...it feels like I’ve arrived. I don’t want to sell any of my previous opponents short. I have literally faced some of the best in this business and I’ve tried to learn from every loss and every win. From those early beatings I took from Caliban to nearly having my skull crushed in by Strader, it was all leading up to that moment at Proving Ground. That moment itself, will lead on to something even bigger down the road. If I didn’t believe that with all my heart, why would I keep going? This entire journey I’m on...it all leads somewhere. No one can know what the endgame eventually is, but I don’t plan on stopping until the name Indy Darling is synonymous with the best in the business.”
Indy pauses and stares at the camera for a few seconds before eventually shrugging his shoulders.
“So, was that cool?”
“I was hoping for some rightful number one contender talk, but yeah, motherfucker. We’re cool. Now get your ass back to shoveling before I freeze my ass off!”
It wasn’t just the professional life of Indy Darling that had taken off in a positive direction since the start of the year. With his personal life a guarded treasure, there would be no reason for anyone to expect that his life away from the ring had its own milestones. Not the least of which, was the long-awaited awakening of his dearest friend, trainer, and manager, Benjiro Yamamoto, the man more commonly known in wrestling circles as Doctor Dalton Miyagi. With the exception of hospital staff assigned with their patient’s well-being, Indy was the first to find out when Doc began to show signs of responsiveness. Sitting at her father’s bedside, Meg was on the phone to tell Indy about the good news while the doctors and nurses were still present to run tests.
While not fully aware of his surroundings or what had befallen him, Doc had been able to open his eyes for brief periods of time, accompanying those glimmers of life with a few raspy and nonsensical words. It was still better than the unknown of an unresponsive coma, providing everyone with the hope that the womanizing leftover from the 1980’s would be back to his old self in no time. With nothing but his own will to live, Indy’s best friend had broken down a wall of his own.
Thoughts about his friend are swirling in Indy’s mind when he feels the intrusive presence of Julius’ hand-held camera a second time. While he would like nothing more than to continue his meal prep for the week, putting his carefully planned meals into their appropriate portion sizes, while imaging Doc back at his side, Indy cannot help but find the focus of Julius’ newfound hobby to be a disconcerting distraction.
“Indy Darling, now that you’ve shown the world that the X-Factor Championship is the elite title on Proving Ground, what is your ass planning to do next?”
Indy keeps his back to the camera, attempting to maintain his focus on carving chicken breasts and weighing them on his nutritional scale.
“Dude...not now, okay? I’m doing my best to focus as it is, what with Doc making progress…”
“Motherfucker! This ain’t no time for excuses! Your ass has been signed in another Triple Threat Match, and the competition hasn’t gotten any less dangerous! Now put that healthy Keto shit to the side and tell us motherfuckers why Shawn Warstein is the next motherfucker to find out just how great your ass is!”
Indy slowly turns around, a sharpened knife in one hand and a sagging slab of chicken breast in the other. He also reveals the front of his apron, emblazoned with the oddly out-of-place face of Guy Fieri.
“C’mon, Julius. I’m elbow deep in raw flesh and greens. Do you really think this is the right time for me to cut a promo on one half of the Tag Team Champions?”
“That depends, motherfucker. Do you think having his hands on some juicy breast meat and a wad of green would stop Shawn motherfucking Warstein from dropping some badass insults on your little ass?”
While it is nearly impossible to see the frustration in Indy’s eyes behind his sunglasses, his heavy sigh manages to speak volumes.
“I’m not cutting a promo on Warstein while I’m in the middle of meal prep. That’s final.”
“Okay, motherfucker. I sense the frustration here. While don’t you tell us what you think about that flashy motherfucker named Myojin instead?”
Indy shakes his head like a man in defeat, glancing down at the flaccid meat in his hand for a few moments.
“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Julius. I really do. The fact is, Shawn Warstein and Myojin are two of the elite competitors in this company. Not just on Proving Ground, but in all of Project: Honor. Something tells me that cutting a promo on them while I’m wearing an apron and handling meat isn’t the best course of action.”
A heavy and disappointed sigh can be heard from behind the camera.
“Have it your way, motherfucker. Just know that we’ll be getting back to this tomorrow. Letting two crafty motherfuckers like them sit in your head for too long is an invitation for trouble.”
There is some shaky disturbance in the footage as Julius lowers the camera from his face and sits it on the kitchen counter. Unbeknownst to Indy, the device continues to record.
“Now you got to help a brother out, here. I seen them chicken breasts and veggies, but my ass can’t help but notice there’s a fine-ass pair of lobster tails on stand-by. With that chilled box of Sam’s Club wine aside, are you fixin’ to treat my ass to something special?”
Indy has turned his back to the camera again and seems to be slicing more portions of chicken.
“Uh...I was kind of hoping to talk to you about that. Do you think you could find somewhere else to be tonight? I have some company flying in from out of town and I’d really like it if we could spend some time alone…”
“Oooooh. Now I get it! That sweet n’ spicy ass of Miyagi’s daughter is comin’ to visit, and it’s time to show old Julius the door. Is she the real reason your ass quit smoking?”
“No...I mean...yeah...she is. Coming to town, that is. She has to pick up a few things for Doc to help with his recovery. Some cognitive triggers or something like that. Old photos and keepsakes. I asked if she’d have time to stay for dinner and it sounds like her plane back to LA doesn’t leave until tomorrow so…”
“So Indy Darling is fixin’ to get him a taste of those secret Asian spices! I feel you, dog!”
“No, it’s not...I’m not like that...she’s not that kind of…”
“It’s gonna be Indy’s duty to smack that booty!”
“C’mon, man. I just want to make her a nice dinner…”
“And get yourself a nice slice of pie for dessert!”
“Julius…”
“My little boy is growing up! Indy is DTF and needs Julius to take his suave ass elsewhere!”
“DTF? I don’t even know what that stands for…”
“Doing The Fairweather, motherfucker! You’re gonna tickle her ivories! You’re swinging for a solo home run! Her end zone is in sight and the only thing in your way is number 69, that tight-end named Julius M.F. Fairweather!”
“...do you even watch football?”
“I watch the half-time shows! Besides, you’re lookin’ to drill yourself a hole in that frozen body of water and do a little off-season tuna fishing!”
Indy finally turns back toward his instigator, gripping the handle of his knife tightly, as his cheeks are red with a flushed combination of anger and embarrassment.
“Dude! She’s a nice woman with a lot on her mind and I just want to make her a romantic dinner...wait...is that still recording? Julius, I swear to god…”
The scene becomes a shaky blur as Julius’ sudden movement jostles the camera.
“Wait...is there something wrong with boxed wine?’
The unscheduled on-camera scene is brought to a sudden end, leaving Indy’s parting question unanswered.
The cloud of uncertainty regarding Doc Miyagi’s fate had indeed hung over Indy like a storm threatening to rain down upon his life. Yet as that cloud began to clear, so too did Indy’s doubts about finding some semblance of balance between his professional and personal lives. The last thing he could have expected was to find normalcy through Doc’s ordeal, but the sudden addition of Meg Yamamoto to his life had done just that. From Christmas until New Year’s, the pair had become inseparable. If they were not watching over their mutual loved one at the hospital, their time was spent enjoying each other’s company.
Those little things that someone can take for granted became a major focus in Indy’s life that week, whether it be sharing a taste in music, learning someone’s favorite color, or simply finding solace in sharing a conversation without expectations. Then, when the week neared its end and as one year passed into the next, an innocent kiss between two people who could no longer be considered strangers gave Indy the spark of hope that his days of feeling alone were finally coming to an end.
All too often, Indy had heard about people falling in love, as if it were some fairytale that he’d been excluded from. The youthful feeling of liking everything about a person and knowing that they felt the same way about you, had been as alien to him as a wrestling match without a “This is Awesome” chant. By the time he boarded his plane in order to return to Indianapolis and prepare for Project: Honor’s draft show, that childlike wonder of emerging love gnawed at him as if an addictive drug had sunk its claws into his heart and brain.
It didn’t overtake him to the point of dulling his effectiveness in the ring during the last Proving Ground, but when his hand was raised in victory, it did manage to add that extra dose of satisfaction. He knew that somewhere, most likely at her father’s bedside, someone who cared for him was watching that moment and sharing in his accomplishment. In the weeks between the draft show and the next event, Indy and Meg’s relationship had evolved from regular texts at random intervals to personal calls the first thing every morning and again when the day reached its end. When the day finally came where one of those particular calls ended with Meg saying, “I couldn’t do this without you, and I love you”, it was as if Indy had climbed the world’s highest ladder to capture a prize that had previously eluded his notice or desire. Sure, he fumbled his response and said something like, “wow...cool”, but he made up for it the next day when he confidently repeated Meg’s sentiment in a much more eloquent manner.
These feelings were nothing compared to how Indy felt when he watched her walk out of that airline terminal. They were dim shadows as he showed her around Doc’s gym and living quarters, proud of how he had made the ultimate wrestler’s man-cave look presentable to an otherwise uninterested feminine eye. They couldn’t hold a candle to the feelings the couple shared over dinner and wine, a much nicer vintage from an actual bottle thanks to the timely intervention of Julius Fairweather. Nor could those proclamations of love stand up to the overwhelming emotions Indy and Meg felt as they shared a solitary dance, when she told him that she’d like to stay the night, and when he sheepishly admitted that he’d never had the opportunity to be intimate with someone in the way she was suggesting.
He need not have worried. When something is right, these things tend to come naturally. Even if that isn’t the case the first time, a late departure from Indianapolis the next day insured that they had plenty of time to get things right. And when the night was over, when he walked Meg to the terminal the next day and watched as her plane took to the air, Indy wanted nothing more than to savor every emotional high he had experienced since Christmas Eve. Professional walls, personal walls, and even the wall that had prevented Indy from knowing the loving touch of someone who cared for him had been broken down. Yet while love may have seemed to come easy, while personal and professional triumphs were at their all time high, there was one thing that kept the X-Factor Champion’s feet firmly planted on the ground.
When would the wall holding everything up come crashing down as well?
Hours into days, days into weeks. Such is life for all of us. The highs and the lows that cling to us like sheets after a turbulent night’s rest in an overheated loft apartment were just as present for Indy Darling as they would be for anyone else. No matter the success gleaned from hard work, no matter the euphoria of a love discovered, no matter the hope of a brighter tomorrow, there remains a demonic entity burrowed deep inside each of us, constantly threatening to rear its ugly head. Call it doubt. Call it fear. Acknowledge it as a shred of self-loathing or a figment of your imagination. Whatever name we may give it, there exists in all of us the idea that one seemingly harmless twist of fate can bring everything we’ve strived to build to a fiery and destructive end. It’s just the way the human machine is built.
You can run from it, hide from it, fight it for all your worth, but it is an intangible spirit that refuses to tap out. It’s in the pit of your stomach or the back of your mind. It’s always watching and waiting for its moment to say, “I told you so”. All it wants in return for its ever-present company is to be embraced. It wants its moment in the spotlight, and sooner or later, it will have it.
The scene opens on Indy Darling, the Project: Honor X-Factor Championship proudly draped over his shoulder, sunglasses fixed in place, and an expression on his face that refuses to allude to anything beyond his next challenge. Julius is no longer present behind the camera, ensuring that what the champion has to say remains relevant to him and his opponents alone. At this point in his career, the typical surroundings one would expect regarding Miyagi’s gym are of little consequence. It doesn’t matter if he’s taking a break from his training, shoveling snow, preparing a meal, or coming down from the high of trading in his V-Card for a first class ticket to paradise. All that matters is that he has business on his mind and a lot of things to get off his chest.
“Allow me to be yet another of the dozens upon dozens of people in this industry to bring up the “new year, new me” trope. Look guys, I’d love to say it’s bullshit as much as the next person, but in some way, don’t we want it to be true? You might have the self-confidence or even arrogance to stand in front of a camera and say you were already perfect, so there’s no room for improvements. Yeah, that sounds really tough and impressive. Cheers to you for being a badass or whatever. I’ve got a box of wine in the fridge you can have to celebrate with. But while you drink to your lack of flaws, what it’s really telling the rest of us is that you’re happy being last year’s news.”
“I’m not going to claim that I’m an entirely new guy compared to what I was just a few short weeks ago, but I also won’t pretend that life hasn’t thrown me a few curveballs in that time. Up until now, they’ve been the kind of pitches I can hit. In fact, I’ve had more home runs in the past few weeks than I’ve ever had before.”
Indy forces himself to pause, concerned with the implications of what he’s said when twisted by the words of his less-than-politically correct co-workers.
“That sounded vaguely sexual...just...never mind. I’ll remember to edit that out in post.”
Clearly, he did not remember.
“I guess what I’m really getting at here, is that I have no way of knowing what things Shawn Warstein may have seen in the past few weeks. I have no idea where Myojin may have been. When it comes to my opponents, I can only plan for what I’ve already learned about them and do my best to prepare for the unexpected. The only thing I can be sure of, is where life has taken me lately. Now I’d be lying if I didn’t say there was some part of me wondering if there’s a big scary monster around the next corner, just waiting to burn all of my good fortune to the ground. At the next Proving Ground, it’s my job to make sure Myojin and Shawn Warstein are not a pair of monsters waiting in the wings. As capable as they are of causing me some set-backs, I’m more interested in making sure we lift each other up.”
Indy cannot help but shrug his shoulders and give himself an eye roll, fully aware that his last comment has made him sound like a motivational speaker in some high school gymnasium.
“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. “Indy’s being a nice guy again”. Only that’s not it at all. I fought hard to earn that main event spot at the last Proving Ground, and I fought even harder to come away from it with a victory. That’s not something I’m willing to just sit on or check off a bucket list. It’s a foundation that I can build on week after week, to ensure that it’s not the last time Indy Darling or the X-Factor Championship are in that bright spotlight at the top of the card. The three of us may be listed as a headliner underneath the tag team main event, but I’m confident that no one can convince Myojin, Shawn Warstein, or myself that we are not the real main event where it counts. After all, what does a win for Mark Hunter or Ramesses give them? Maybe a shot at Dickie if they can manage to work together long enough to pin his shoulders to the mat. What do the Commonwealth get if they come out on top? Other than a potential tag match with Legacy, they continue to hover at the top on stand-by. Now ask yourselves, what can Myojin, Shawn Warstein, or Indy Darling get by winning their match?”
Indy gives another brief pause, allowing the minds of his viewers to contemplate that question for themselves before he adds his personal take on things.
“Shawn could prove that being knocked out of the running for the Legacy Title isn’t going to slow him down. He could continue to prove that he’s not just one half of an impressive team, but a constant threat to every individual championship in the company. He could put his face on that promotional poster, cementing himself as one of Proving Ground’s elite.”
“Myojin could once again emerge victorious, showing the world that he deserves another shot at being the champion everyone expects him to be. He could erase that lingering idea that he’s unable to win the big ones, because have no doubt about it, putting his name in the win column over the likes of me and Shawn Warstein is not the same as winning a random mid-card encounter. It’s an exclamation point behind the declaration that his spot isn’t up for grabs, that he shouldn’t be counted out of the title picture, that he is every bit as dangerous as he is flamboyant. Pinning either Shawn Warstein or myself would damn sure be a big one.”
“Then there’s me. What do I have to prove by beating Myojin and Shawn Warstein? I’ve already shot holes in the idea that I’m a fluke. I’ve already shown that I can hang at the highest levels in this company. Those were the earned accomplishments that brought an end to my time as a rookie in this business. Now I’m out to show that there’s no such thing as a ‘Sophomore Slump’. I do that by shining brighter than the Shining Star and by paving my own legacy at the expense of someone who’s already forged their own. I prove that Indy doesn’t just win the ones that matter, that I only show up for title matches and main events. I use my performance to show that every match matters, and being in the ring with Myojin and Shawn Warstein sure as hell matters in my mind and in the minds of the fans.”
There is no cigarette to dangle from his lips and his sunglasses feel perfectly in place over his eyes. He pauses nonetheless, if for no other reason than force of habit.
“There isn’t a heated personal issue bringing the three of us together on this show. Not that I had any say in it, but the X-Factor Title isn’t on the line either. That doesn’t make a Triple Threat Match between the three of us any less intense or of less importance. Sure, Myojin may not appreciate my “Colton Saint Was Right” tee shirt, but he’s smart enough to know that those words remind me of something that proceeds his heelish chair-shot spree at Unbreakable Resolution. Shawn and Myo might even have a little bit of heat left over from their tag team championship match. Warstein may take offense at the fact that I’ve liked more of James Raven’s tweets than his. Yet those little nitpicks aren’t going to be the focus of our match. Stealing the show at Proving Ground and overshadowing anything on Fallout has a lot more to do with what the three of us will leave laying in the ring. If you’re new to the company and want to know what it’s prime time players are all about, I invite you to come and watch. That not only comes from a solid belief in my own abilities, but those of my two world-class opponents as well.”
Another brief pause accompanies the continued desire for nicotine, but Indy remains determined to keep it at bay.
“As for those monsters I mentioned earlier? Those doubts and fears that creep up on us at 3 am to ruin an otherwise peaceful night of sleep? Those bastards that threaten to turn everything good in our lives into hellish nightmares? The one that makes Myojin worry about not being the hero he thought himself to be, or the one that secretly stings at Shawn’s ego when he thinks about being choked out by Elena DeDraca? Yeah, they’re real. They exist in each and every one of us. I’d be lying if I said they weren’t on the back of my mind lately. But I just have one thing to say to those devices of self-destruction…”
The urge to light up a cigarette is strong, but Indy manages to choke it down with a shot of disdain for his personal demons.
“Fuck ‘em. Get off my damn cloud. I don’t have time to worry about the what-ifs and the maybes. Project: Honor needs to understand who butters their bread, so I hope Shawn and Myo are fighting their demons at least half as hard as I am. If not, I’ll carry them up the company ladder with me as I cement my place at the top. Forget the glass ceiling. I’m breaking down the wall to Rock Johnson’s office.”
There is no burning cigarette on the screen. No dwelling on the past. No fear of the unknown behind those blue aviators. Just a man with his eyes set on the future.
“How can he do that? What gives him the right? Who does he think he is? Those are the easiest questions of all to answer. I’m Indy Darling, and that’s not just good enough, it’s better than the rest.”
Not only had Indy’s career outside of Project: Honor gotten a boost from his exposure on Netflix and major cable networks, but life inside the company had started to get better and better as well. Successfully defending the X-Factor Championship at Unbreakable Resolution was the first step, and emerging as the winner of the Triple Threat Main Event of the Proving Ground Draft Show had been one hell of a way to follow up on that earned momentum. Dickie Watson’s losses could be counted by a toddler, and while Indy hadn’t pinned the Grand Champion to take the match, the record books would still show him as the winner. In Indy’s mind, this accomplishment was on par with upsetting Colton Saint in early November and then defending his title inside a steel cage, and he wasn’t about to let it go to waste.
His friend, Julius, had found measures of his own success, and their progression as training partners convinced them to make the leap into the world of tag team wrestling. Despite being on opposite shows, there was no reason to think that they wouldn’t be able to join forces at pay per views or special events. Indy had been surprised by Julius’ aptitude in the squared circle, but what came as an even bigger surprise was his ability to talk his way into an exclusive program on Project: Honor’s website. Together, they were breaking down the professional walls that had threatened to hold them back.
These are just a few of the things on Indy’s mind as he’s caught unaware by a shaky handheld camera, operated by a man with a familiarly explicit way of speaking.
“Come on, motherfucker! Let’s roll with this shit!”
As the footage begins, the voice from behind the camera comes from Julius Fairweather. In the shot is Indy himself, wearing an insulated denim coat, black scarf, and his blue aviators, as usual. Yet judging from the scene, cutting a promo is the furthest thing from Indy’s mind. With snow coming down around them and a large scoop shovel in his hands, it quickly becomes obvious that even wrestling champions with TV gigs have to keep their sidewalks clear.
“Motherfucker! If I’ve got to take a break from sparring to stand out here in this shit, the least you can do is give me some motherfucking promo lessons!”
Shaking his head and pushing his shovel across the sidewalk in front of Miyagi’s gym, it doesn’t appear as if Indy is willing to play along.
“Promo work is the last thing you need help with, Julius. Except…”
Indy pauses, as if considering his words.
“Yeah? Speak up motherfucker! It ain’t getting any warmer up in this bitch!”
“It’s just, maybe you could work on dropping less F-bombs?”
There is a moment of silence between the two two men as Indy stares at his friend with a doubtful expression. After a few seconds, the silence is interrupted by deep-belly laughter from behind the camera.
“Motherfucker! I thought you were serious for a second! That’s some funny ass shit!”
Indy gives a slight smile and nods at the camera, unable to summon the strength to tell Julius that he wasn’t joking. He then goes back to work on the sidewalk, hoping that his friend will give up on his requests for a promo. Indy is not so fortunate.
“Now come on, tell everyone out there what it was like to main event the first Project motherfucking Honor show of the year!”
Indy lets out a sigh as he tosses a shovelful of snow aside. He then props up the shovel to lean on it, realizing that he’ll get his work done faster if he gives in and avoids arguing.
“I mean, what do you want me to say? It was a dream come true. Everyone in this business wants to be in the main event. To achieve that dream in front of all those people watching at home? For a growing company with the reputation of Project: Honor? It was more than just icing on the cake. It was another cake on top of the first cake.”
The camera tilts to the side, and we can tell that Julius has moved it away from his face to look at his tag team partner.
“That...was beautiful, motherfucker.”
“Really?”
The camera once again focuses on Indy as Julius raises it back to his face.
“No. That was some of the worst sentimental bullshit I’ve ever heard! Now where’s that rebel spirit? Where’s the fire that got the kid from the indies up to this level? Light up a smoke and shoot like you mean it, motherfucker!”
“I quit smoking…”
“Stop changing the subject, motherfucker!”
Indy lets out another sigh as he looks away from the camera, trying to process all of the emotions he felt at Proving Ground into some kind of coherent verbal address.
“Dickie Watson is the best in this company right now. His record doesn’t lie. T.J. Thompson is on the rise and as silly as they might be, Big Drip are hot as hell. To be in that match with them alone was an honor. To come out with the win...well...it feels like I’ve arrived. I don’t want to sell any of my previous opponents short. I have literally faced some of the best in this business and I’ve tried to learn from every loss and every win. From those early beatings I took from Caliban to nearly having my skull crushed in by Strader, it was all leading up to that moment at Proving Ground. That moment itself, will lead on to something even bigger down the road. If I didn’t believe that with all my heart, why would I keep going? This entire journey I’m on...it all leads somewhere. No one can know what the endgame eventually is, but I don’t plan on stopping until the name Indy Darling is synonymous with the best in the business.”
Indy pauses and stares at the camera for a few seconds before eventually shrugging his shoulders.
“So, was that cool?”
“I was hoping for some rightful number one contender talk, but yeah, motherfucker. We’re cool. Now get your ass back to shoveling before I freeze my ass off!”
Shaky transition. Cut to black.
It wasn’t just the professional life of Indy Darling that had taken off in a positive direction since the start of the year. With his personal life a guarded treasure, there would be no reason for anyone to expect that his life away from the ring had its own milestones. Not the least of which, was the long-awaited awakening of his dearest friend, trainer, and manager, Benjiro Yamamoto, the man more commonly known in wrestling circles as Doctor Dalton Miyagi. With the exception of hospital staff assigned with their patient’s well-being, Indy was the first to find out when Doc began to show signs of responsiveness. Sitting at her father’s bedside, Meg was on the phone to tell Indy about the good news while the doctors and nurses were still present to run tests.
While not fully aware of his surroundings or what had befallen him, Doc had been able to open his eyes for brief periods of time, accompanying those glimmers of life with a few raspy and nonsensical words. It was still better than the unknown of an unresponsive coma, providing everyone with the hope that the womanizing leftover from the 1980’s would be back to his old self in no time. With nothing but his own will to live, Indy’s best friend had broken down a wall of his own.
Thoughts about his friend are swirling in Indy’s mind when he feels the intrusive presence of Julius’ hand-held camera a second time. While he would like nothing more than to continue his meal prep for the week, putting his carefully planned meals into their appropriate portion sizes, while imaging Doc back at his side, Indy cannot help but find the focus of Julius’ newfound hobby to be a disconcerting distraction.
“Indy Darling, now that you’ve shown the world that the X-Factor Championship is the elite title on Proving Ground, what is your ass planning to do next?”
Indy keeps his back to the camera, attempting to maintain his focus on carving chicken breasts and weighing them on his nutritional scale.
“Dude...not now, okay? I’m doing my best to focus as it is, what with Doc making progress…”
“Motherfucker! This ain’t no time for excuses! Your ass has been signed in another Triple Threat Match, and the competition hasn’t gotten any less dangerous! Now put that healthy Keto shit to the side and tell us motherfuckers why Shawn Warstein is the next motherfucker to find out just how great your ass is!”
Indy slowly turns around, a sharpened knife in one hand and a sagging slab of chicken breast in the other. He also reveals the front of his apron, emblazoned with the oddly out-of-place face of Guy Fieri.
“C’mon, Julius. I’m elbow deep in raw flesh and greens. Do you really think this is the right time for me to cut a promo on one half of the Tag Team Champions?”
“That depends, motherfucker. Do you think having his hands on some juicy breast meat and a wad of green would stop Shawn motherfucking Warstein from dropping some badass insults on your little ass?”
While it is nearly impossible to see the frustration in Indy’s eyes behind his sunglasses, his heavy sigh manages to speak volumes.
“I’m not cutting a promo on Warstein while I’m in the middle of meal prep. That’s final.”
“Okay, motherfucker. I sense the frustration here. While don’t you tell us what you think about that flashy motherfucker named Myojin instead?”
Indy shakes his head like a man in defeat, glancing down at the flaccid meat in his hand for a few moments.
“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Julius. I really do. The fact is, Shawn Warstein and Myojin are two of the elite competitors in this company. Not just on Proving Ground, but in all of Project: Honor. Something tells me that cutting a promo on them while I’m wearing an apron and handling meat isn’t the best course of action.”
A heavy and disappointed sigh can be heard from behind the camera.
“Have it your way, motherfucker. Just know that we’ll be getting back to this tomorrow. Letting two crafty motherfuckers like them sit in your head for too long is an invitation for trouble.”
There is some shaky disturbance in the footage as Julius lowers the camera from his face and sits it on the kitchen counter. Unbeknownst to Indy, the device continues to record.
“Now you got to help a brother out, here. I seen them chicken breasts and veggies, but my ass can’t help but notice there’s a fine-ass pair of lobster tails on stand-by. With that chilled box of Sam’s Club wine aside, are you fixin’ to treat my ass to something special?”
Indy has turned his back to the camera again and seems to be slicing more portions of chicken.
“Uh...I was kind of hoping to talk to you about that. Do you think you could find somewhere else to be tonight? I have some company flying in from out of town and I’d really like it if we could spend some time alone…”
“Oooooh. Now I get it! That sweet n’ spicy ass of Miyagi’s daughter is comin’ to visit, and it’s time to show old Julius the door. Is she the real reason your ass quit smoking?”
“No...I mean...yeah...she is. Coming to town, that is. She has to pick up a few things for Doc to help with his recovery. Some cognitive triggers or something like that. Old photos and keepsakes. I asked if she’d have time to stay for dinner and it sounds like her plane back to LA doesn’t leave until tomorrow so…”
“So Indy Darling is fixin’ to get him a taste of those secret Asian spices! I feel you, dog!”
“No, it’s not...I’m not like that...she’s not that kind of…”
“It’s gonna be Indy’s duty to smack that booty!”
“C’mon, man. I just want to make her a nice dinner…”
“And get yourself a nice slice of pie for dessert!”
“Julius…”
“My little boy is growing up! Indy is DTF and needs Julius to take his suave ass elsewhere!”
“DTF? I don’t even know what that stands for…”
“Doing The Fairweather, motherfucker! You’re gonna tickle her ivories! You’re swinging for a solo home run! Her end zone is in sight and the only thing in your way is number 69, that tight-end named Julius M.F. Fairweather!”
“...do you even watch football?”
“I watch the half-time shows! Besides, you’re lookin’ to drill yourself a hole in that frozen body of water and do a little off-season tuna fishing!”
Indy finally turns back toward his instigator, gripping the handle of his knife tightly, as his cheeks are red with a flushed combination of anger and embarrassment.
“Dude! She’s a nice woman with a lot on her mind and I just want to make her a romantic dinner...wait...is that still recording? Julius, I swear to god…”
The scene becomes a shaky blur as Julius’ sudden movement jostles the camera.
“Wait...is there something wrong with boxed wine?’
The unscheduled on-camera scene is brought to a sudden end, leaving Indy’s parting question unanswered.
Shaky transition. Cut to black.
The cloud of uncertainty regarding Doc Miyagi’s fate had indeed hung over Indy like a storm threatening to rain down upon his life. Yet as that cloud began to clear, so too did Indy’s doubts about finding some semblance of balance between his professional and personal lives. The last thing he could have expected was to find normalcy through Doc’s ordeal, but the sudden addition of Meg Yamamoto to his life had done just that. From Christmas until New Year’s, the pair had become inseparable. If they were not watching over their mutual loved one at the hospital, their time was spent enjoying each other’s company.
Those little things that someone can take for granted became a major focus in Indy’s life that week, whether it be sharing a taste in music, learning someone’s favorite color, or simply finding solace in sharing a conversation without expectations. Then, when the week neared its end and as one year passed into the next, an innocent kiss between two people who could no longer be considered strangers gave Indy the spark of hope that his days of feeling alone were finally coming to an end.
All too often, Indy had heard about people falling in love, as if it were some fairytale that he’d been excluded from. The youthful feeling of liking everything about a person and knowing that they felt the same way about you, had been as alien to him as a wrestling match without a “This is Awesome” chant. By the time he boarded his plane in order to return to Indianapolis and prepare for Project: Honor’s draft show, that childlike wonder of emerging love gnawed at him as if an addictive drug had sunk its claws into his heart and brain.
It didn’t overtake him to the point of dulling his effectiveness in the ring during the last Proving Ground, but when his hand was raised in victory, it did manage to add that extra dose of satisfaction. He knew that somewhere, most likely at her father’s bedside, someone who cared for him was watching that moment and sharing in his accomplishment. In the weeks between the draft show and the next event, Indy and Meg’s relationship had evolved from regular texts at random intervals to personal calls the first thing every morning and again when the day reached its end. When the day finally came where one of those particular calls ended with Meg saying, “I couldn’t do this without you, and I love you”, it was as if Indy had climbed the world’s highest ladder to capture a prize that had previously eluded his notice or desire. Sure, he fumbled his response and said something like, “wow...cool”, but he made up for it the next day when he confidently repeated Meg’s sentiment in a much more eloquent manner.
These feelings were nothing compared to how Indy felt when he watched her walk out of that airline terminal. They were dim shadows as he showed her around Doc’s gym and living quarters, proud of how he had made the ultimate wrestler’s man-cave look presentable to an otherwise uninterested feminine eye. They couldn’t hold a candle to the feelings the couple shared over dinner and wine, a much nicer vintage from an actual bottle thanks to the timely intervention of Julius Fairweather. Nor could those proclamations of love stand up to the overwhelming emotions Indy and Meg felt as they shared a solitary dance, when she told him that she’d like to stay the night, and when he sheepishly admitted that he’d never had the opportunity to be intimate with someone in the way she was suggesting.
He need not have worried. When something is right, these things tend to come naturally. Even if that isn’t the case the first time, a late departure from Indianapolis the next day insured that they had plenty of time to get things right. And when the night was over, when he walked Meg to the terminal the next day and watched as her plane took to the air, Indy wanted nothing more than to savor every emotional high he had experienced since Christmas Eve. Professional walls, personal walls, and even the wall that had prevented Indy from knowing the loving touch of someone who cared for him had been broken down. Yet while love may have seemed to come easy, while personal and professional triumphs were at their all time high, there was one thing that kept the X-Factor Champion’s feet firmly planted on the ground.
When would the wall holding everything up come crashing down as well?
Hours into days, days into weeks. Such is life for all of us. The highs and the lows that cling to us like sheets after a turbulent night’s rest in an overheated loft apartment were just as present for Indy Darling as they would be for anyone else. No matter the success gleaned from hard work, no matter the euphoria of a love discovered, no matter the hope of a brighter tomorrow, there remains a demonic entity burrowed deep inside each of us, constantly threatening to rear its ugly head. Call it doubt. Call it fear. Acknowledge it as a shred of self-loathing or a figment of your imagination. Whatever name we may give it, there exists in all of us the idea that one seemingly harmless twist of fate can bring everything we’ve strived to build to a fiery and destructive end. It’s just the way the human machine is built.
You can run from it, hide from it, fight it for all your worth, but it is an intangible spirit that refuses to tap out. It’s in the pit of your stomach or the back of your mind. It’s always watching and waiting for its moment to say, “I told you so”. All it wants in return for its ever-present company is to be embraced. It wants its moment in the spotlight, and sooner or later, it will have it.
Shaky transition. Begin broadcast.
The scene opens on Indy Darling, the Project: Honor X-Factor Championship proudly draped over his shoulder, sunglasses fixed in place, and an expression on his face that refuses to allude to anything beyond his next challenge. Julius is no longer present behind the camera, ensuring that what the champion has to say remains relevant to him and his opponents alone. At this point in his career, the typical surroundings one would expect regarding Miyagi’s gym are of little consequence. It doesn’t matter if he’s taking a break from his training, shoveling snow, preparing a meal, or coming down from the high of trading in his V-Card for a first class ticket to paradise. All that matters is that he has business on his mind and a lot of things to get off his chest.
“Allow me to be yet another of the dozens upon dozens of people in this industry to bring up the “new year, new me” trope. Look guys, I’d love to say it’s bullshit as much as the next person, but in some way, don’t we want it to be true? You might have the self-confidence or even arrogance to stand in front of a camera and say you were already perfect, so there’s no room for improvements. Yeah, that sounds really tough and impressive. Cheers to you for being a badass or whatever. I’ve got a box of wine in the fridge you can have to celebrate with. But while you drink to your lack of flaws, what it’s really telling the rest of us is that you’re happy being last year’s news.”
“I’m not going to claim that I’m an entirely new guy compared to what I was just a few short weeks ago, but I also won’t pretend that life hasn’t thrown me a few curveballs in that time. Up until now, they’ve been the kind of pitches I can hit. In fact, I’ve had more home runs in the past few weeks than I’ve ever had before.”
Indy forces himself to pause, concerned with the implications of what he’s said when twisted by the words of his less-than-politically correct co-workers.
“That sounded vaguely sexual...just...never mind. I’ll remember to edit that out in post.”
Clearly, he did not remember.
“I guess what I’m really getting at here, is that I have no way of knowing what things Shawn Warstein may have seen in the past few weeks. I have no idea where Myojin may have been. When it comes to my opponents, I can only plan for what I’ve already learned about them and do my best to prepare for the unexpected. The only thing I can be sure of, is where life has taken me lately. Now I’d be lying if I didn’t say there was some part of me wondering if there’s a big scary monster around the next corner, just waiting to burn all of my good fortune to the ground. At the next Proving Ground, it’s my job to make sure Myojin and Shawn Warstein are not a pair of monsters waiting in the wings. As capable as they are of causing me some set-backs, I’m more interested in making sure we lift each other up.”
Indy cannot help but shrug his shoulders and give himself an eye roll, fully aware that his last comment has made him sound like a motivational speaker in some high school gymnasium.
“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. “Indy’s being a nice guy again”. Only that’s not it at all. I fought hard to earn that main event spot at the last Proving Ground, and I fought even harder to come away from it with a victory. That’s not something I’m willing to just sit on or check off a bucket list. It’s a foundation that I can build on week after week, to ensure that it’s not the last time Indy Darling or the X-Factor Championship are in that bright spotlight at the top of the card. The three of us may be listed as a headliner underneath the tag team main event, but I’m confident that no one can convince Myojin, Shawn Warstein, or myself that we are not the real main event where it counts. After all, what does a win for Mark Hunter or Ramesses give them? Maybe a shot at Dickie if they can manage to work together long enough to pin his shoulders to the mat. What do the Commonwealth get if they come out on top? Other than a potential tag match with Legacy, they continue to hover at the top on stand-by. Now ask yourselves, what can Myojin, Shawn Warstein, or Indy Darling get by winning their match?”
Indy gives another brief pause, allowing the minds of his viewers to contemplate that question for themselves before he adds his personal take on things.
“Shawn could prove that being knocked out of the running for the Legacy Title isn’t going to slow him down. He could continue to prove that he’s not just one half of an impressive team, but a constant threat to every individual championship in the company. He could put his face on that promotional poster, cementing himself as one of Proving Ground’s elite.”
“Myojin could once again emerge victorious, showing the world that he deserves another shot at being the champion everyone expects him to be. He could erase that lingering idea that he’s unable to win the big ones, because have no doubt about it, putting his name in the win column over the likes of me and Shawn Warstein is not the same as winning a random mid-card encounter. It’s an exclamation point behind the declaration that his spot isn’t up for grabs, that he shouldn’t be counted out of the title picture, that he is every bit as dangerous as he is flamboyant. Pinning either Shawn Warstein or myself would damn sure be a big one.”
“Then there’s me. What do I have to prove by beating Myojin and Shawn Warstein? I’ve already shot holes in the idea that I’m a fluke. I’ve already shown that I can hang at the highest levels in this company. Those were the earned accomplishments that brought an end to my time as a rookie in this business. Now I’m out to show that there’s no such thing as a ‘Sophomore Slump’. I do that by shining brighter than the Shining Star and by paving my own legacy at the expense of someone who’s already forged their own. I prove that Indy doesn’t just win the ones that matter, that I only show up for title matches and main events. I use my performance to show that every match matters, and being in the ring with Myojin and Shawn Warstein sure as hell matters in my mind and in the minds of the fans.”
There is no cigarette to dangle from his lips and his sunglasses feel perfectly in place over his eyes. He pauses nonetheless, if for no other reason than force of habit.
“There isn’t a heated personal issue bringing the three of us together on this show. Not that I had any say in it, but the X-Factor Title isn’t on the line either. That doesn’t make a Triple Threat Match between the three of us any less intense or of less importance. Sure, Myojin may not appreciate my “Colton Saint Was Right” tee shirt, but he’s smart enough to know that those words remind me of something that proceeds his heelish chair-shot spree at Unbreakable Resolution. Shawn and Myo might even have a little bit of heat left over from their tag team championship match. Warstein may take offense at the fact that I’ve liked more of James Raven’s tweets than his. Yet those little nitpicks aren’t going to be the focus of our match. Stealing the show at Proving Ground and overshadowing anything on Fallout has a lot more to do with what the three of us will leave laying in the ring. If you’re new to the company and want to know what it’s prime time players are all about, I invite you to come and watch. That not only comes from a solid belief in my own abilities, but those of my two world-class opponents as well.”
Another brief pause accompanies the continued desire for nicotine, but Indy remains determined to keep it at bay.
“As for those monsters I mentioned earlier? Those doubts and fears that creep up on us at 3 am to ruin an otherwise peaceful night of sleep? Those bastards that threaten to turn everything good in our lives into hellish nightmares? The one that makes Myojin worry about not being the hero he thought himself to be, or the one that secretly stings at Shawn’s ego when he thinks about being choked out by Elena DeDraca? Yeah, they’re real. They exist in each and every one of us. I’d be lying if I said they weren’t on the back of my mind lately. But I just have one thing to say to those devices of self-destruction…”
The urge to light up a cigarette is strong, but Indy manages to choke it down with a shot of disdain for his personal demons.
“Fuck ‘em. Get off my damn cloud. I don’t have time to worry about the what-ifs and the maybes. Project: Honor needs to understand who butters their bread, so I hope Shawn and Myo are fighting their demons at least half as hard as I am. If not, I’ll carry them up the company ladder with me as I cement my place at the top. Forget the glass ceiling. I’m breaking down the wall to Rock Johnson’s office.”
There is no burning cigarette on the screen. No dwelling on the past. No fear of the unknown behind those blue aviators. Just a man with his eyes set on the future.
“How can he do that? What gives him the right? Who does he think he is? Those are the easiest questions of all to answer. I’m Indy Darling, and that’s not just good enough, it’s better than the rest.”