Story Of My Life
#NP "Story Of My Life" by Social Distortion
LOCALE: Casablanca, Morocco (April 29th, 2015)
The shades are drawn shut, allowing only a small line of a fiery gold to seap through, leaving but a small glare on the hotel room. It's high noon as Tim Staggs sits up on his bed, his eyes glazed over as he stares off into space. His red hair is a perfect mess atop his head, and his white muscle tee is still crisp and white, despite the fact he has been wearing it for over three days straight. This is a testament to the lethargic state he's remained in. Despite the warm temperature in the room, he doesn't break a sweat. He simply begins to shake his head from side to side slowly.
"Boy likes girl. Girl is in an unhappy relationship. Girl is... perfect. So perfect that she couldn't possibly fall for the geek. Story of my life..."
Tim looks down at his raw hands as he continues to rub them together. His OCD has kicked into high gear due to whatever stress the Nobody has been under lately. The redness stings, but it serves as a reminder that he is alive.
"Everyone is taking to Twitter, telling the most tedious details of their lives like the rest of us give a shit. 'Oh, I'm going to get a low fat latte, complain about how stupid my flavor of the week nemesis is for a spell, go to the gym because I'm so into my fitness t counteract the drinking and drugs I'll be doing, and I'll end the night by screwing so and so.' And yet still, the menial existance is somehow more meaningful than my own. I make a statement about making my presence felt, and all fifteen of my followers just ignore it, but a tweet about tying up your wife gets 30 favorites? Story of my life..."
Tim's jaw clinches as he stops rubbing his hands together. Instead, he squeezes them together tightly, turning his knuckles white in the process. His nostrils flare up as he clinches his eyes tightly as he sucks in a deep breath. He practically hisses it out as he reaches for a glass of water sitting on the nightstand. He takes a drink from it as he leans over the edge of the bed. Planting his feet on the floor, he begins pacing back and forth.
"The point is that no one... literally no one, even realizes I've been missing for three days now. No one has called to ask where I'm at. The only Time my phone goes off is when Twitter tells me that multiple people have followed some dimwit that they think I should follow. If people claim I'm a somebody, rather than a nobody, then they are about as dumb as a box of rocks. I'm left with the only thing I've ever been able to count on... the shadows. Story of my life...
"Who is going to save me now? Who is going to stop the inevitable plunder, promised to me by my genetics? Who can I rely on now? Everyone thinks I can rely on Spike Staggs, my father. Some think I can rely on my great uncle Erik Staggs to get me noticed. Others see my pedigree and assume I should make something of myself instantly. My mother, Roxanne, was a dominant World Women's champion in a few federations. My adopted mother, Misty, well... need I say more? Same goes for my step mother, Vixen. I'm bred to win. I've been nurtured into this business, but that doesn't mean a thing when it all comes down to it. I can't count on them to see me for who I truly am, for what I've been truly bred and nurtured to be... They can't see me as the Nobody that I truly am."
Tim tangles his fingers in his purposely messy ginger locks, tugging at them slightly as the anxiety begins to fill his head with lies and awful truths. The nastiest of things cross his mind, filling him with a momentary dread that leaves a metallic tingle upon his tongue as his heart sinks. His breaths become more and more shallow.
"They feed me with lies of security and stability. They only want what is best for me, and that is exactly why I can't trust them. Their love blinds them to the fact that I can't conduct an interview to save my life. I've got no charisma. I'm SCW's less talented Steve Blackman. It doesn't matter that I've got a hammerlock that would make the toughest of opponents cry. It doesn't matter that I could sneak up on any opponent face first, and drop him in at least sixteen different submission holds that they couldn't escape from with the jaws of life itself. None of that matters. The only thing that matters is face value, and let's face it... You could buy a cup of coffee with my autograph... and eighty-two cents. Collectively, my name is worth exactly jack squat. I'm okay with that. I'll just have to bide my Time, wait for my opportunity, and when that Time comes, you better believe I will strike like a viper..."
A wicked smile creeps across Tim's face despite his shortness of breath. Sweat beads line his eyebrows as he slowly starts to calm himself down. His breaths return to normal as he slowly gets a grip on himself. He looks across the dusty, drab room and into a vanity mirror. Seeing a side of himself he doesn't quite like, he looks down. However, the reflection in the mirror laughs almost maniacally.
"Until then, I will stay at the bottom of the barrel. Until then, I will stay in the friend zone with the pretty girls. Until then, I will stay the butt end of some joke. Until then I will be the forgotten one, the man who stays under contract for peanuts, only to never get booked. Until then, I will stay in the shadows, and learn to become comfortably numb. Until then, I will remain a Nobody."
Tim closes his eyes as he sits down in a wooden chair sitting across from the bed. He leans one leg up onto the arm of the chair as he plants the other sideways on the floor. He leans back slightly in an awkward position, but one that seems to be calming to him. His wicked smirk stays plastered upon his face as he looks down at the ground, staring as the camera begins to go dark...
***Fade***[/i]
Integrity/u]
#NP "The Nobodies" by Marilyn Manson
LOCALE: Las Vegas, Nevada/Algiers, Algeria (May 15th, 2015)
Typing...
That's definitely what we're hearing. Neatly manicured fingernails clicking rapidly against a keyboard to be exact. The screen begins to fade in to see Pussy Willow at her laptop inside of her decently nice looking hotel room. It is nothing fancy, but by contrast to the room we saw Tim Staggs staying in previously, it's five star. The accomodations for staff in Algeria is nicer than what they are even used to. Pussy picks up a bottle of water and places it to her lips, taking a drink before returning her attention back to her computer screen. After unlocking it, she immediately loads Skype. After logging in, she begins going through her extensive list of contacts, which takes several moments to get even half way through them. She is surprised when a call icon appears on her screen. A bright eyed, ginger kid's picture appears next to it, and he smiles as she moves her mouse over to accept the call. As she does, she is met with darkness.
Pussy: Hello? Tim? Are you there?
A murmur of many voices ring through the darkness, but she still can't see anything. She scrolls over to her settings to check on them, finding them perfectly fine. This stumps her as she clears her throat for one more attempt.
Pussy: Tim Staggs? I can't see you. Hello?
There is a sharp screeching feedback noise that echoes through both of their speakers, causing her to lean back to place her fingers against her ears to cut back some of the noise, wincing in a bit of initial pain.
Pussy: Tim, if you can hear me check your...
Just then, the screen fades in some to rest upon a silhouette of a hooded figure against a red light. She still seems a bit apprehenive, but her pleas for an answer quickly fade. She tilts her head to the side in confusion before she is left with the sight of another hooded figure just to the right.
Pussy: Thanks for your time, Tim. I know you are still visiting family in Las Vegas with the arrival of your new siblings, but...
Tim Today I am dirty, I want to be pretty. Tomorrow I'll know, I'm just dirt...
Pussy: Excuse me?
The camera pans to the side to see another hooded figure, and then another, and another. The camera backs out slightly and we see that there are about nine hooded figures against a glowing red backdrop, making it impossible to make out any of their features.
Tim: We are the nobodies. We wanna be somebodies. When we're dead, they'll know just who we are...
Pussy: I'm afraid I don't follow, Tim
Tim Yesterday I was dirty, I wanted to be pretty. I know now that I'm forever dirt...
There is a moment of silence as the camera moves to circle around the group. It slows down on each one as it moves, yet we are not any closer to seeing who they are. We see a variety of heights, weights, and genders, but that is about all we can see.
Tim: Some children died the other day. We fed machines, and then we prayed. Puked up and down in morbid faith. You should have seen the ratings that day...
Pussy: So... I've got many questions to ask you when you're ready to proceed.
Tim: Questions? Just for me? Why, I'm flattered.
We stop on one figure who tilts their head to the side, placing their right hand on their chest to convey a mixture of surprise and flattery at the same Time. Pussy smiles sweetly as she nods her head in response.
Pussy: After your showing at Mayhem In Morocco, there are a lot of unanswered questions, such as when will you be making your on camera debut?
We move on to another one of the figures, clearly a female by their silhouette, however, they place a hand on their hip as their head waves in an "Oh no she didn't" sort of manner.
Tim: Are you serious right now? I've already appeared on camera for SCW.
Pussy: Yes, we all saw you grab onto Kain's leg, but I mean like an interview or something?
The female figure shakes her head from side to side giving a middle finger salute to Pussy, which makes her scoff in shock and offense. However, we move along to another figure who is shaking their head from side to side slowly.
Tim: I've been on camera many Times already. For one, I was an active wrestler from Arizona State Wrestling from beginning to end. And two, I've already cut an in-ring promo, twice actually, and two interviews, as well as a spot at Mayhem In Morocco with Christian Underwood and Erik Staggs.
Pussy: No... I don't think so?
The figure raises clinched fists to his sides, shaking them as they slowly rise above his head. He stomps up and down in a fit of rage as Tim growls.
Tim: Yes? I mean, yes! I did, but Mean Girls hijacked two of our moments, Steve Ramone hijacked the other, and the first one, the fans got up to go to the bathroom, so I'm assuming you did too.
Pussy: No, I'm pretty sure I would remember at least one of those.
Tim: Me and Kris Halich...
Pussy: Wait, who?
The angered silhouette stops as we pass another silhouette who grabs at their stomach, mimicking laughter as they hunch over. Pussy's face scrunches up in frustration as she scoffs.
Pussy: The only Kris I know is a Kris Halc, and he's the... which champion is he again...? The Internet champion!
Tim: Seriously? His last name is Halich. We are a stable called the Nobodies. That's why I grabbed Kain's foot to help...
Pussy: The cards always call him Kris Halc, bosses, Belinda and Jason all call him that, and...
Tim: Yeah, well people call me a janitor, but that doesn't mean I'm a janitor. It just means they are ignorant. Just because your coworkers are ignorant doesn't mean you have to be. It is Halich Say it with me Hay...
Pussy: Hay...
Tim: ...lick.
Pussy: ...lick?
We move to another silhouette that claps their hands together firmly, nodding their head in approval.
Tim: Very good. And what stable are we?
Pussy: New X-Tremes? Are you resurrecting your father's stable?
Tim: No... just... no...
Pussy: Oh, The Rejects?
The next silhouette rubs their temple as they shake their head from side to side in frustration. Meanwhile, Tim can be heard chuckling at the notion.
Tim: Noooo... We are not a couple of people who wish we were unpopular and different because it's trendy. We're legiTimately the pariah's of Sin City Wrestling. The ones who get hassled at the door when we try to come and do our jobs. The ones who...
Pussy: Oh! Dying Breed?
Tim: Oh forget it... We're The Nobodies, and it is our mission to change that. One day, we'll be Somebodies.
Pussy: But, isn't Halc...
Tim: HALICH!
Pussy: Hay-lick... a champion? It seems sort of...
The next silhouette holds their hand up at the camera to stop Pussy from speaking right then and there.
Tim: Contradicting? No, if anything, I would say it's ironic. A man fights tooth and nail to defeat Kain to become the SCW Internet Champion, yet he can't even make it past security to defend his title until he suckerpunches the dick. His situation is different from mine. People know my name, because it is what they claim got me into this business. For all I know, they could be right. People don't remember his name. Our common thread is that no one remembers us for who we are. We're not even an after thought, even though we've shown more committment than half of the roster. I'm just now being booked after six weeks of being under contract. I had to interfere in a match just to get this match. Any valet could have done the same thing, but I'm an actual wrestler...
Pussy: Oh, Kain! There's a name I've been meaning to get to! You recently signed a contract after demanding a match against anyone, and...
Tim: Wait... I literally just said I signed a contract six weeks ago.
Pussy: No... that doesn't seem right...
Tim: You're right, it doesn't, but thems the facts Pussy.
Pussy shrugs her shoulders, not wanting to argue the point with Tim. She looks down at her notepad in front of her before continuing.
Pussy: Kain is upset that you cost him the match at Mayhem In Morocco, and...
Tim: He's mad? Why would he be mad about that? It's ridiculous.
Pussy: Well, you interfered in his match. He would have won had you not done what you did.
The camera turns around to face an unmasked Tim Staggs, catching a faint glance at his face, masked only by the bright red light reflecting off of his face.
Tim: Okay? So, he's mad that I cost him a technical win that wouldn't have resulted in a title change? What would he have gained from winning then? Some pointless "W" in the record books that would prove absolutely nothing? Titles don't change hands by count out or disqualification. If anything, I saved him from making a fool of himself, and he should thank me for that. SCW's resident badass can still hold onto that street cred because of me. Would you still look at him like a badass if he made it back inside of that ring and celebrated a farce of a victory as if it meant something? Pride beaming off of his face?
Pussy: Yes?
Tim: Then you're as dumb as the majority of the Sin City Wrestling roster.
It is Pussy's turn to show emotion through body language as she crosses her arms across her ample bosom, sinking back in her chair slightly.
Tim: I wish I could apologize and mean it, but honestly, I can't. That is what is wrong with this business. If we can't beat the game, then we're going to change the game. We're going to start off by changing the way people view their idols such as Drake Green, Mean Girls, Roxi Johnson and Kiera Fisher... and everyone who is too dumb to see them all for who they really are.
Pussy: Do you think of Kain in this light?
Tim: Unfortunately, no. Sunday is not about making an example of somebody. It isn't about adding integrity to someone's career, because Kain is one of the few people who has some integrity. Though, after his attempt at a meaningless victory at Mayhem In Morocco, I'm starting to question that slightly. What happens on Sunday isn't personal, at least on my end. No, what happens will be strictly business. It will be a showcase match for me, and nothing more. Win or lose, I may shake Kain's hand. But, I promise you that such an offer is rare coming from me. If Kain can see what I did to him two weeks ago for what it was, rather than some sort of slight against him, then he is worthy of my respect. If not, then he proves to be just another egomaniac looking for a paycheck, cashing in on the adoration of the fans.
Tim shrugs his shoulders, showing no apologies for his words or thoughts. Pussy nods her head, though she is clearly not fully buying into this.
Pussy: It's not often than someone tries to cower back from their actions by trying to make sense of what they've done, but you're trying to pass it off as a favor to stop him from tearing you limb from limb?
Tim: I don't need to justify anything. He's going to feel however he wants about what I did, and I accept that. What I'm saying is that I saved him from an undignified ending to his match, and hopefully he doesn't let emotion blind him to the fact that I'm bringing everything I've got to the table, and with the training I've undergone over the last two years... no two months, that's nothing to laugh at. If Kain wants to look at me as the enemy, then that's his perogative. However, he'd be smart not to do that. He should look at the bigger picture. But, trust me... I'm not holding all my eggs in one basket. He doesn't come across as being that smart. But, one can hope, right?
Pussy: Well, I've got other interviews to get to, but I wonder if you have anything you want to say directly to Kain for your match?
Tim taps his chin, thinking it over for a second. Truly, he is not a professional in this aspect of the business, so this takes him a moment, but when his face lights up, Pussy gives him a few minutes.
Tim: Kain, come Sunday, we're going to...
***BUZZ/STATIC***
Pussy: Tim? Hello?
Pussy inspects her task bar, noticing her wifi connection has gone out. Her face sinks some as she places a hand against her cheek in a bit of despair.
Pussy: Oh boy, I hope he doesn't think I did that on purpose... but thank God...
***Fade***
