Watch Me

[Notorious B.O.B.]

“So we, ah, we talking ‘bout all these losses tonight?”

He laughs, the camera focusing a bit as he leans away from the keyboard and adjusts himself in his chair. The night had thus far been uneventful. He’d been streaming already for the better part of two hours already and was planning on another three before calling it a night. He’d taken his viewers through the paces as he inched even closer to reaching Legend ranking in Hearthstone before switching it up and earning himself a chicken dinner in a solo round of PUBG. The chat had just begun discussing the next game, of which Fortnight seemed to the prevailing winner.

While getting the game loaded up he noticed the chat room taking a different turn; bringing up not only the last few matches he’d been having, but also what was coming down the pike for him.

“I mean,” he continued with a shake of the head, “we can’t just do one night without bringing that stuff up?”

Taking a deep breath he reaches out and fiddles around with the mouse, his eyes not meeting the camera at first.

“So,” he looks up at the camera, the smile fading from his face as he does so, “I know you guys are just playing around; I know ya’ll have my back, it’s just … the doubt is there, ya know? That little bit of doubt that always seems to creep in when the path gets rough.

Shit,” he sighs, a smile creeping back onto his face, “when has my path ever been anything but rough, eh? For as long as I could remember it’s always been me against the world, but more so me against myself. I can’t claim ownership over every obstacle that’s been placed in front of me, but I damn sure know most are mine.

Every opportunity that I’ve been gifted in this life I’ve watched myself piss it away. Each and every time that I think I’ve made it over a hurdle, I find myself standing before the next one … with another one looming in the distance waiting, beckoning, taunting me. I have made poor decision after poor decision in an attempt to get myself over those hurdles quicker, to make the journey just a little more painless; but has it been? Have I really had an easier go of it because of these shortcuts?”

He laughs a pained laugh, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth. “Last I checked, I’m pretty sure Joe Everyman has still held the Imperial title for longer than I have … so there’s that.

But all of it, all of the shit that I’ve been through – that I’ve put myself through, what’s it been for? I’m at a point when I shouldn’t be feeling this level of nervousness heading into a match that, in the grand scheme of things, is meaningless. Now,” he waves his hand dismissively, “I don’t mean that the Man-of-Steel title isn’t something I’d like to hold; hell, I think I’d make a hell of a champion. What’s meaningless is the fact that I’m facing a man in this match who doesn’t respect the position he’s in.

Too long now I’ve been sitting here listening, watching, not getting involved as the Pack ran wild through this company. I watched men like Spike Kane and Andrew Jacobsen do what they could to try and stop you all, only to temporarily halt your progress. But, unlike many of the groups that predate you, you’ve managed to be harder to get rid of than a bad case of athletes foot. This match, try as I will, won’t be the ‘cure-all’ for ridding IWF of you. I’m not anticipating the Pack just fading away if Dean loses the belt to me. If anything,” he scoffs, “I could see you all doubling down on your efforts to make the rest of our lives a living hell.

Two weeks ago you made me an offer, Dean. You told me that you could do for me what you’ve done for countless others. Brooklyn, Caleb, Maxine, random thrall number four; you and Rowan managed to turn a rag-tag group of misfits into a highly functional unit; something even Angel struggled to do in his day.

Your ‘family’ as you like to call them, they look to you as a father figure, eh? You steer them in the right direction but still allow them to make their own mistakes if need be? From day one you’ve proven us all wrong about you. People keep focusing on the Pack as a cult – but missing out on the fact that you guys really do see each other as family. I’ve sat here and listened to as much as I could stomach and contrary to popular belief, you aren’t a snake oil salesman, Dean … you actually believe everything that you say. You believe that you’re doing the right thing here; that is what makes you all the more dangerous.

Guys like Angel,” he says with a roll of the eyes, “they talk a big game about being the Big Bad of the company, but when push comes to shove he’s always been more god-complex then God. Every time he gets a microphone in his hand it’s a well rehearsed line of rhetoric that comes forth just dripping with ulterior motifs.

But you,” he smiles, though it looks pained, “you cut to the heart of the issue in a way that’s as refreshing as it is infuriating. I will hand it to you, Dean, you seem to get me. You get who I am, you get what I do … but you just don’t seem to get why I’m doing it. Do you think I don’t want to have that companionship? Did it ever occur to you that I’ve been longing for something … someone meaningful in my life?

The last meaningful relationship I was in was …” he stops himself and turns away from the camera momentarily. His shoulders rise and fall as his breathing becomes erratic, his hands seem to tear at his hair and it’s several more moments before he turns himself back to the camera. “A long time, Dean, a long time. When my life went south and I found myself staring up from the bottom of that gutter I knew that I wouldn’t find that happiness … not in this life anyway.

Maybe it was all my fault, maybe it was hers – the truth probably lies somewhere in the middle; but no matter who it was to blame, I was the one to shoulder the pain.

You like to talk about pain like it’s a badge of honor, Dean. There’s nothing good about this, nothing to be gained. People who say that the pain makes you grow stronger are the same people who’d like you to believe that there’s a place for us all on this big, blue marble. It’s a bunch of bullshit and we both know it. Pain doesn’t make you stronger because it never goes away. Every minute of every single day I live with this weight on my chest, pressing down on me and crushing me little by little. I get moments of levity here and there where I’m able to forget about it, but it’s never gone – never truly gone.

So to hear people like you promise to bring me pain for the things that I’ve said, things that I’ve done – it’s laughable. What can you do to me that hasn’t already been done, Dean? What can you say about me that I haven’t already heard?

I know that I’m a guy who will probably never reach the potential that everyone around me thinks I could.

I know I’m destined to be the perpetual bridesmaid, but never the bride when it comes to the Imperial title.

I know that I will be the guy that people think about twenty years from now and wonder what went wrong.

This is who I am, Dean. I’m beyond saving … beyond the help that even your family could provide. You want to talk about the injustice of having your services thrown back in your face? How do you think it feels to always be the guy other people think they can fix? How am I supposed to feel when time after time, opponent after opponent, friend after friend says to me that if only I could see in myself what they see in me – things could be different.

They’ll never be different, Dean, and I know that.

A long time ago I had to make peace with the fact that my lot in life, my roll in this company was to be the guy other people overlook. It used to make me angry; I would lie awake in bed just seething because nobody thought I could do it, thought I could be the man I knew I could be. I know what I’m capable of, I understand my strengths, my weaknesses, and my limitations. I know how far I can push myself to that breaking point, and I understand what’s at stake if I ever push beyond that point. I can only win this match under two conditions; you yourself have touted the fact that you don’t submit – which in and of itself just begs of me to be your first … to break your cherry as it were. But that other condition, doing enough damage to you in order to leave you unable to answer a standing ten count? Dean, neither of us believes that this is going to be a big ol’ tickle fight. There will be blood, there will be tears, and at the end of the day there will be only one of us left standing. You and everyone that has come before you have said the same thing. ‘You can’t do it, Bob’, ‘You don’t have it in you, Bob’, and,” he sneers, “I’m getting a little sick of hearing it. Talk is cheap, Dean-o, and it doesn’t really matter what I have to say at this point anyway; you’re blind and deaf to anything I’d have to say – you only understand two things right now … violence and bloodlust. There will be copious amounts of both this weekend.

This match is all about showing you, showing the Pack, showing the rest of this whole damn company that they can count me out; they can doubt me; they can ignore me all they want. Few short days it’s going to be me stepping out onto that stage with two words on my lips, Dean, and you and everyone else won’t be able to ignore me anymore, and you’ll listen to those words one way or another. Don’t believe me …

… watch me.”

He certainly didn’t mean for it to happen, but going off like that on the stream just kind of sucked the fun out of the rest of his evening. It was only another few minutes of uncomfortable chit chat with the chatroom before bringing the gaming festivities to a close for the night. With a final wave he ended the stream and sat back in his chair with a sigh. He felt like this was all starting to hit a little too close to home for him again. All of those feelings of dread just seemed to pop back up again like they did before his match with Laszlo and Angel. He had shone everyone during that match that he was capable of going toe to toe with the likes of Andrew Jacobsen and Angel and not backing down. He’d been there in the thick of it and come out the other side better for it.

So why was this getting the better of him?

What was it about Harper that seemed to set him on edge? Was this really just about the offer? Would it have killed him to take him up on it? He’d made his decision in that split second; and in his heart of hearts he knew it was the right one. Dean represented that easy path that he’d always taken in the hopes of getting to the top. Angel, Spike, Alex, and now Dean all offered him the world in return for, what? His soul? No, for his services that always ended up coming through much to the detriment of his career.

Never again, he’d told himself last year when he made his return to action. Never again was he going to be a pawn in someone else’s game. It was time that he had control over his actions and nobody was going to take away his sense of freedom. So, on one hand it would have been nice to belong somewhere … to have that sense of family that the Pack all seem to share. His life had been such a steaming pot of shit stew he hadn’t bothered entertaining the thought of reaching out and finding someone again. Friends and family weren’t a luxury that he was able to afford himself these days. Hell, while he still considered guys like Spike and AJ friends – they weren’t exactly there in his times of need. No, unfortunately when push came to shove the only person that he could rely on to always be there was himself.

It was a sad, lonely existence made just a little bit better because of the streaming, and here he was killing the mood of the evening before bailing. He sat there at the computer desk just staring at the screen and wondering what was next for him. Win or lose this coming weekend, this company was changing. It was about time for him to start changing with it; one way or the other.