Post by Deleted on Oct 14, 2022 18:36:08 GMT
BEEP BEEP BEEP
The alarm on Reo’s phone startled the old man as he was in the middle of stretching one of the Death Dojo Students. The student that Reo has wrapped up and the rest of the class give a unison sigh of relief as the much anticipated whistle from Reo indicates to the students to take a break.
It’s usually around this time of the day that the toll of combat creeps its ugly head inside his muscles and bones and starts to send pain throughout his body. He doesn’t show any sign of wear and tear though as he makes his way to his office. If anyone had caught wind of his current state, student or opponent, they’d use it against him and possibly end his career if they targeted the right area on his body.
Locking the door behind him in his office, the twitching in his arm starts to become visible as he makes his way over to his desk. Keep it together, old man, he tells himself as he pulls a pill organizer out from his desk. Popping the Wednesday section open, he pours the different colored pills in his hand and stares at all them that were given to him to help him function as a human being. Looking down at his hand, he tries his best to remember which pill did what. The blue one was for his knees. The red one was for the nerves in his hand. The green one was….or was the red for his vision? Fuck it all to hell he mumbles under his breath before tossing the pills in his mouth and chases it with a bottle of bourbon.
Leaning back in his chair, Reo looks at the walls and sees all the pictures, title belts, and souvenirs that he’s collected over the years. Photos of Reo shaking hands with friends and foes of the ring. Autographs of some of Reo’s heroes in the industry. If this room could talk…..it would probably tell Reo to retire and get as far away from wrestling while he still can.
Just a little bit longer he tells the room. It’s just way too exciting right now to just get up and walk away. So many great talents to wrestle against. So many companies that need to be lifted to greatness. So many wrestlers that need to be taught and molded and improved.
In the back of his head, though, Reo’s wife can be heard. Nagging him to come home and enjoy their final years together. He needs to make up for all the times that Reo missed birthdays, anniversaries, births, deaths, and dates. That's the least Reo could do for her since she had to pause her wrestling career to raise their kids.
The timer goes off on his phone which wakes Reo up from his dream. One last shot of bourbon to calm the nerves. Slowly standing up and listening to the cracks coming from his knees, Reo slaps his knees and makes his way to the door to train the next generation…..or at least to weed them out.
The alarm on Reo’s phone startled the old man as he was in the middle of stretching one of the Death Dojo Students. The student that Reo has wrapped up and the rest of the class give a unison sigh of relief as the much anticipated whistle from Reo indicates to the students to take a break.
It’s usually around this time of the day that the toll of combat creeps its ugly head inside his muscles and bones and starts to send pain throughout his body. He doesn’t show any sign of wear and tear though as he makes his way to his office. If anyone had caught wind of his current state, student or opponent, they’d use it against him and possibly end his career if they targeted the right area on his body.
Locking the door behind him in his office, the twitching in his arm starts to become visible as he makes his way over to his desk. Keep it together, old man, he tells himself as he pulls a pill organizer out from his desk. Popping the Wednesday section open, he pours the different colored pills in his hand and stares at all them that were given to him to help him function as a human being. Looking down at his hand, he tries his best to remember which pill did what. The blue one was for his knees. The red one was for the nerves in his hand. The green one was….or was the red for his vision? Fuck it all to hell he mumbles under his breath before tossing the pills in his mouth and chases it with a bottle of bourbon.
Leaning back in his chair, Reo looks at the walls and sees all the pictures, title belts, and souvenirs that he’s collected over the years. Photos of Reo shaking hands with friends and foes of the ring. Autographs of some of Reo’s heroes in the industry. If this room could talk…..it would probably tell Reo to retire and get as far away from wrestling while he still can.
Just a little bit longer he tells the room. It’s just way too exciting right now to just get up and walk away. So many great talents to wrestle against. So many companies that need to be lifted to greatness. So many wrestlers that need to be taught and molded and improved.
In the back of his head, though, Reo’s wife can be heard. Nagging him to come home and enjoy their final years together. He needs to make up for all the times that Reo missed birthdays, anniversaries, births, deaths, and dates. That's the least Reo could do for her since she had to pause her wrestling career to raise their kids.
The timer goes off on his phone which wakes Reo up from his dream. One last shot of bourbon to calm the nerves. Slowly standing up and listening to the cracks coming from his knees, Reo slaps his knees and makes his way to the door to train the next generation…..or at least to weed them out.