Post by Pax Stormcrow on Sept 4, 2023 4:45:51 GMT
While he may not be in hell actually, he was fairly certain it was at least somewhere adjacent. First of all, the tuxedo cost an insane amount of money. He tried to rent, but none of them could tailor it to fit his form properly. But Mr. Moris had insisted that he would get repeated use out of a tux in their partnership. Which honestly was not a selling point. It’s not like they gave him funding for it specifically. So here he was, a trained monkey complete with suit at some gala event that Prairie Fiber was holding. He sipped his añejo Manhattan with a heavy sigh before tugging at the collar of the starched shirt.
The event was meant to court sponsors. Not that Pax began to even understand that. It just seemed like a corporation trying to keep from paying the money they already promised themselves. Mr. Moris even made claims that he might be able to find additional sponsors from the event. Sponsors on top of sponsors. It was always part of the business that he hated. He could admit that the money was good, and that Prairie Fiber didn’t ask him to do too much that he didn’t like. But his current lifestyle really didn’t need much and if he continued that way he was basically set up for life.
Not that he didn’t dream of or desire better things. To say nothing of promises made for improving things on the rez. So here he was, wearing damned uncomfortable clothing that a normal person couldn’t hope to afford, sipping a cocktail that was probably a day’s wage for most of his community. He didn’t ask. Fortunately, aside from a few introductions and some meaningless small talk he was being left alone.
“Oh Mr. Stormcrow!” The honeyed voice broke through his miserable inner thoughts. Because of course he’d show up. He couldn’t be so lucky. He wasn’t even involved in another conversation to pretend to ignore it.
“Mr. Moris. Thank you once again for the invite.” He lied through his teeth to the man. It became easier by the day. Not that he expected his charcoal suit-wearing handler to buy it, but the fact that he didn’t feel guilt about it nagged at him.
“Naturally! Anything for our star, after all. Speaking of, I was just having a delightful conversation with Mr. Martin here and he mentioned that he knew you when you were children so I just had to make re-introductions.” He gestured to the young man next to him, also wearing a tuxedo with his long raven hair tied into a braid and a smug smile on his face.
“Hey Pax, good to see ya again. See you are doing alright for yourself.” Of course Pax remembered him. The two of them had faced off against each other several times for All State championships. John Martin, son of the near constant chair for Mystic Lake, the most profitable casino in the state, due to it’s close proximity to the cities themselves.
“Hey John. Heard you’ve done alright for yourself as well.” He shook the other man’s hand and was unsurprised when John tried to squeeze down on the grasp. Naturally Pax returned the favor and was rewarded with a strained look from John’s face. While Pax had continued to hone his craft, after Highschool John took a plush job on the board that his father arranged for him.
“I will let the two of you catch up. I have several other individuals I must speak to. Ever forward, ever onward, yes?” Mr. Moris gave both of them his Cheshire cat grin before slipping off. Pax finally released his hand.
“So what the hell are you doing here, John?” Pax smoothed a hand along his tuxedo’s arm and took a drink from his cocktail.
“What do you mean? Prairie Fiber has put out a mission statement about getting Fiber internet access to communities in need. Obviously that’s something I’m interested in. I’m just glad my family has the funds to back it.” The smug smile still remained on his face and Pax wanted to take him down and wipe it off.
“I mean that’s great. Of course all the money in the world doesn’t mean anything if people aren’t willing to put in the work, am I right?” Pax plastered the best innocent smile on his face as he stared across at John. “Money can only go so far. Still gotta find the people to take the jobs, do the work. Learn the skills.”
It was no secret in the high school wrestling community that John Martin excelled because he had a former Olympian giving him the training in a high tech home gym with all the bells and whistles to give him a leg up. Honestly if he had applied himself Pax honestly believed that he probably would have lost most of the matches instead of winning them. But John Martin was always the type to roll on what he had.
“Suppose you are right… What are they calling you now? Stormcrow? Sound’s really authentic there. Real NDN.” The smug look, which had briefly departed, returned once more. As John looked across at Pax.
Pax simply rolled his eyes. “Like you would know? I’ve seen your house John. You rolled up to our last match in a caddy. Real deadly of you. I’m out here trying to improve my community's lives and you trying to measure check books?” He shook his head. “Only because you know that I whooped that ass every time we met on the mat. I ain’t got time for this Martin. Bye.”
While John gaped at him Pax finished his cocktail and walked towards the exit. He’d done his part for this and he had a match to win.
~_~
Pax’s vlog is once again back to regularly scheduled programming. The video is loaded on the normal day, with the background of Pax’s home office with his replica titles on the wall and pictures of him winning his all state championships. And of course, front and center, a picture of his mother in her regalia. Pax is clearly not his normal jovial self. He is sitting far back from his desk, his hands clasped in front of him.
“Hey Neechii’s, it’s ya boi. On another serious note. Last week I had to square up with a man that calls himself god and while that’s probably not true, he has been my own personal gatekeeper throughout much of my career. And I put him down.”
He lifts his head and looks into the camera. His eyes burn with passion.
“I can’t begin to explain how much that means to me but I can’t even sit back and focus on that. Because here I am, a week later facing off against his fucking stepson. I gotta look into the mirror this week fam and it’s a broken one cause what looks back on me ain’t pretty.”
Pax glances down at the ground once more, still rubbing his hands almost compulsively in front of him.
“I won’t lie, I don’t put a lot of stock in the hookey bullshit that goes on around here. Good is good and bad is bad. I’ve seen a lot of shit out on the prairie and in the woods to make me question what is and what isn’t real but honestly? Most of the time in this business when someone says they have a spirit or an entity possessing them it’s so they can try to pass the buck. They don’t want to take the blame for what they do between those ropes. So they deflect. I’m not about that, Sabin.”
Lifting his gaze once more his brown eyes glare into the camera.
“When I step between those ropes what I do to you? That’s on me. Bet. I get it. I might as well be called superman. For the good of the sport and for sportsmanship and all that shit. But I never forget that I am in the business of hurting people. There are rules to be followed. A code that one should uphold. But at the end of the day my job is about beating the shit outta someone until they can’t get up anymore. I don’t have blinders on. I know that the nicest, most friendly person in our business? If they have succeeded they have put people in the hospital. But I accept that. We all do when we step through those ropes. Our business is one of violence and the rules that stand in place are to try and keep us controlled.”
He presses his hands to his mouth and emits a loud exhale of breath. Shaking his head, he continues.
“I still remember you telling JC to break that dude’s arm. So ya, I don’t buy into the whole idea that you are anything but an asshole. Honor isn’t a sometimes thing. You gotta act a certain way all of the time. Otherwise you are just gaming the system.”
Sitting in silence for a moment, Pax broods to himself. What he thinks about is hard to say as he keeps his hands pressed together in front of his face.
“That’s something else entirely, and not actually what I want to talk about. I want to talk about how everyone sits back and talks about how a lot of people have been talking shit about how you have gotten everything served up to you on a silver platter.”
Shaking his head with a small chuckle, Pax looks up at the camera.
“That’s just not true. Trust me, I’ve run into my fair share of silver spoon fed entitled piss babies and that ain’t you. You took everything that came across your desk and killed it. I’m not gonna deny you that.”
Once more Pax looks down, staring at the ground in front of him.
“But ask yourself if you earned the opportunities themselves? No one can deny that beating Angel Black should gain you a shot at the title. Man’s a legend. One of the best to ever do it. But why, Sabin, did you wind up in that match?”
Lifting his head he stares deep into the camera.
“Did you earn that spot? Or like every child of a divorce’s source of therapy, did your mom’s pull you into her beef with her ex? You don’t need to answer cause we all saw it. You got given a spot on the main event scene because your mom was mad at your step dad. No one knew who the fuck Sabin was until then. You stepped up to every opportunity you had and proved yourself, but a lot of the opportunities you got were because mommy got them for you. I didn’t get that. Dean sure as fuck didn’t get that. So don’t sit back and compare yourself to people who actually had to work our way through the ranks. You are good, I’m not denying that. But you didn’t have to put in the work we did.”
A small smile cracks his face and he even laughs.
“If you aren’t sure about that? Check the Heir to the Throne records. You got to first place in your group with a loss. I had to beat every single other person in my group. And my group didn’t have anyone from the Islander funhouse in it. I had to overcome every major obstacle I’ve faced to get to this point. Half of your opponents think that JJ is a good wrestler.”
Laughing again, Pax shakes his head, leaning back in his chair a little.
“Are we on the same level Sabin? Sure we are. But don’t think for a goddamn minute that we walked the same path. Don’t think you can talk about earning your place when it comes to me. I grew up in a steel shack. My mother waited tables and tended bar for a living. I have fought, every minute of my life, to get where I am. We are not the same. Come Tuesday night?”
Pax smirks at the camera and flashes two fingers.
“Peace out.”
The feed cuts.
The event was meant to court sponsors. Not that Pax began to even understand that. It just seemed like a corporation trying to keep from paying the money they already promised themselves. Mr. Moris even made claims that he might be able to find additional sponsors from the event. Sponsors on top of sponsors. It was always part of the business that he hated. He could admit that the money was good, and that Prairie Fiber didn’t ask him to do too much that he didn’t like. But his current lifestyle really didn’t need much and if he continued that way he was basically set up for life.
Not that he didn’t dream of or desire better things. To say nothing of promises made for improving things on the rez. So here he was, wearing damned uncomfortable clothing that a normal person couldn’t hope to afford, sipping a cocktail that was probably a day’s wage for most of his community. He didn’t ask. Fortunately, aside from a few introductions and some meaningless small talk he was being left alone.
“Oh Mr. Stormcrow!” The honeyed voice broke through his miserable inner thoughts. Because of course he’d show up. He couldn’t be so lucky. He wasn’t even involved in another conversation to pretend to ignore it.
“Mr. Moris. Thank you once again for the invite.” He lied through his teeth to the man. It became easier by the day. Not that he expected his charcoal suit-wearing handler to buy it, but the fact that he didn’t feel guilt about it nagged at him.
“Naturally! Anything for our star, after all. Speaking of, I was just having a delightful conversation with Mr. Martin here and he mentioned that he knew you when you were children so I just had to make re-introductions.” He gestured to the young man next to him, also wearing a tuxedo with his long raven hair tied into a braid and a smug smile on his face.
“Hey Pax, good to see ya again. See you are doing alright for yourself.” Of course Pax remembered him. The two of them had faced off against each other several times for All State championships. John Martin, son of the near constant chair for Mystic Lake, the most profitable casino in the state, due to it’s close proximity to the cities themselves.
“Hey John. Heard you’ve done alright for yourself as well.” He shook the other man’s hand and was unsurprised when John tried to squeeze down on the grasp. Naturally Pax returned the favor and was rewarded with a strained look from John’s face. While Pax had continued to hone his craft, after Highschool John took a plush job on the board that his father arranged for him.
“I will let the two of you catch up. I have several other individuals I must speak to. Ever forward, ever onward, yes?” Mr. Moris gave both of them his Cheshire cat grin before slipping off. Pax finally released his hand.
“So what the hell are you doing here, John?” Pax smoothed a hand along his tuxedo’s arm and took a drink from his cocktail.
“What do you mean? Prairie Fiber has put out a mission statement about getting Fiber internet access to communities in need. Obviously that’s something I’m interested in. I’m just glad my family has the funds to back it.” The smug smile still remained on his face and Pax wanted to take him down and wipe it off.
“I mean that’s great. Of course all the money in the world doesn’t mean anything if people aren’t willing to put in the work, am I right?” Pax plastered the best innocent smile on his face as he stared across at John. “Money can only go so far. Still gotta find the people to take the jobs, do the work. Learn the skills.”
It was no secret in the high school wrestling community that John Martin excelled because he had a former Olympian giving him the training in a high tech home gym with all the bells and whistles to give him a leg up. Honestly if he had applied himself Pax honestly believed that he probably would have lost most of the matches instead of winning them. But John Martin was always the type to roll on what he had.
“Suppose you are right… What are they calling you now? Stormcrow? Sound’s really authentic there. Real NDN.” The smug look, which had briefly departed, returned once more. As John looked across at Pax.
Pax simply rolled his eyes. “Like you would know? I’ve seen your house John. You rolled up to our last match in a caddy. Real deadly of you. I’m out here trying to improve my community's lives and you trying to measure check books?” He shook his head. “Only because you know that I whooped that ass every time we met on the mat. I ain’t got time for this Martin. Bye.”
While John gaped at him Pax finished his cocktail and walked towards the exit. He’d done his part for this and he had a match to win.
~_~
Pax’s vlog is once again back to regularly scheduled programming. The video is loaded on the normal day, with the background of Pax’s home office with his replica titles on the wall and pictures of him winning his all state championships. And of course, front and center, a picture of his mother in her regalia. Pax is clearly not his normal jovial self. He is sitting far back from his desk, his hands clasped in front of him.
“Hey Neechii’s, it’s ya boi. On another serious note. Last week I had to square up with a man that calls himself god and while that’s probably not true, he has been my own personal gatekeeper throughout much of my career. And I put him down.”
He lifts his head and looks into the camera. His eyes burn with passion.
“I can’t begin to explain how much that means to me but I can’t even sit back and focus on that. Because here I am, a week later facing off against his fucking stepson. I gotta look into the mirror this week fam and it’s a broken one cause what looks back on me ain’t pretty.”
Pax glances down at the ground once more, still rubbing his hands almost compulsively in front of him.
“I won’t lie, I don’t put a lot of stock in the hookey bullshit that goes on around here. Good is good and bad is bad. I’ve seen a lot of shit out on the prairie and in the woods to make me question what is and what isn’t real but honestly? Most of the time in this business when someone says they have a spirit or an entity possessing them it’s so they can try to pass the buck. They don’t want to take the blame for what they do between those ropes. So they deflect. I’m not about that, Sabin.”
Lifting his gaze once more his brown eyes glare into the camera.
“When I step between those ropes what I do to you? That’s on me. Bet. I get it. I might as well be called superman. For the good of the sport and for sportsmanship and all that shit. But I never forget that I am in the business of hurting people. There are rules to be followed. A code that one should uphold. But at the end of the day my job is about beating the shit outta someone until they can’t get up anymore. I don’t have blinders on. I know that the nicest, most friendly person in our business? If they have succeeded they have put people in the hospital. But I accept that. We all do when we step through those ropes. Our business is one of violence and the rules that stand in place are to try and keep us controlled.”
He presses his hands to his mouth and emits a loud exhale of breath. Shaking his head, he continues.
“I still remember you telling JC to break that dude’s arm. So ya, I don’t buy into the whole idea that you are anything but an asshole. Honor isn’t a sometimes thing. You gotta act a certain way all of the time. Otherwise you are just gaming the system.”
Sitting in silence for a moment, Pax broods to himself. What he thinks about is hard to say as he keeps his hands pressed together in front of his face.
“That’s something else entirely, and not actually what I want to talk about. I want to talk about how everyone sits back and talks about how a lot of people have been talking shit about how you have gotten everything served up to you on a silver platter.”
Shaking his head with a small chuckle, Pax looks up at the camera.
“That’s just not true. Trust me, I’ve run into my fair share of silver spoon fed entitled piss babies and that ain’t you. You took everything that came across your desk and killed it. I’m not gonna deny you that.”
Once more Pax looks down, staring at the ground in front of him.
“But ask yourself if you earned the opportunities themselves? No one can deny that beating Angel Black should gain you a shot at the title. Man’s a legend. One of the best to ever do it. But why, Sabin, did you wind up in that match?”
Lifting his head he stares deep into the camera.
“Did you earn that spot? Or like every child of a divorce’s source of therapy, did your mom’s pull you into her beef with her ex? You don’t need to answer cause we all saw it. You got given a spot on the main event scene because your mom was mad at your step dad. No one knew who the fuck Sabin was until then. You stepped up to every opportunity you had and proved yourself, but a lot of the opportunities you got were because mommy got them for you. I didn’t get that. Dean sure as fuck didn’t get that. So don’t sit back and compare yourself to people who actually had to work our way through the ranks. You are good, I’m not denying that. But you didn’t have to put in the work we did.”
A small smile cracks his face and he even laughs.
“If you aren’t sure about that? Check the Heir to the Throne records. You got to first place in your group with a loss. I had to beat every single other person in my group. And my group didn’t have anyone from the Islander funhouse in it. I had to overcome every major obstacle I’ve faced to get to this point. Half of your opponents think that JJ is a good wrestler.”
Laughing again, Pax shakes his head, leaning back in his chair a little.
“Are we on the same level Sabin? Sure we are. But don’t think for a goddamn minute that we walked the same path. Don’t think you can talk about earning your place when it comes to me. I grew up in a steel shack. My mother waited tables and tended bar for a living. I have fought, every minute of my life, to get where I am. We are not the same. Come Tuesday night?”
Pax smirks at the camera and flashes two fingers.
“Peace out.”
The feed cuts.
Well howdy there pardner.