Well, let's get this outta the way.

[Pax Stormcrow]

Several Weeks Earlier

“No, that’s not it either. Mark you are landing too far forward on him. We’ve been over this. Your target is the mat. That is what you want to hit. You don’t actually want to drop your leg on him.”

Pax stepped through the ropes, approaching the actor and stuntman in the ring.

“I don’t get it. That hurts me way more than it hurts the other guy.”

Mark Turner, playing the villain in the flick, tossed his professionally done hair back from his face. Pax suppressed the exasperated noise that threatened to come out.

“Ya, that’s kind of the point. Crusher and The Baron were in a worked promotion. The point wasn’t to hurt the other guy.”

“Well I’m an actor. I’m not trying to bang up my own body for this.”

“It’s for the authenticity of the film though. Weren’t you saying that was important the other day?”

The Stuntman laying on the mat lifted his head and grinned.

“Hey I don’t mind it either way.”

“That’s your job though. I’m not trying to break my hip for this job. I’m going to talk to the director.”

Pax wasn’t able to suppress the sigh this time, watching the actor step awkwardly out of the ring. He shook his head and walked over towards James, offering the stuntman a hand to get back up to his feet.

“Guess we are done working that shot. Need us for anything else boss?”

“Schedule was to work Mark through some of the spots he needed to be in frame for, so I guess not. You guys are all good at it, so unless you wanna run some drills.”

Pax shook his head again, rubbing a hand at his temples. He stepped out of the ring, doing his best to calm himself. Mark was an asshole, but to be honest a lot of the actors he was working with were a problem. He grabbed a bottle of water and took a long drink from it.

Truth was they were just trying to do their job. He wasn’t a choreographer. He was just stumbling his way through the job as best as he could. He didn’t know anything about getting things in frame or working with actors or how to make a shot look good. He had no idea why he was even here.

Except, that wasn’t true. He knew full well why he was here. The big wigs at Prairie Fiber were pissed. He’d gone off script in that challenge to Dean and when he wasn’t able to get the job done there was all sorts of shit to pay. One of the board members' son was working as a producer for this flick so… here he was. Just enough knowledge to make a go at the job and under contract for duties to the company.

He shook his head and tossed the empty water bottle into a recycling bin. He belonged in the ring. Working his way up to get his shot back at Dean. Not at some movie lot teaching actors and stunt workers how to make wrestling good on camera.

“Hey kid. Why are you bothering my actors? We are trying to film a movie here.”

Once more, Pax suppressed a sigh as the director came shuffling up to him.

“I’m not trying to bother anyone, sir. I’m just trying to make it look good for the camera.”

“You let me worry about that. Now run me through what you are trying here and let me tell you why you’re wrong.”

Pax takes a deep breath before clapping his hands together.

“Right, so MPW is a worked promotion. When they hit moves they do it in a certain way, usually to do less damage to their opponent.”

“Look kid, you are new to the business. Don’t worry about it. These stuntmen are all crazy. They get off on the pain, ya know?”

“It’s not about that, sir. It doesn’t look real. You told me you wanted me to make it look good for the camera and that’s what I’m trying to do.”

“Ya ya. We can fix it in post. These are actors, kid. I get you glorified stuntmen got your idea how things should look but this is the way of our business. Talk less, listen more and ya might learn something.”

Pax suppressed the surge of anger that hit him. He took another deep breath as he tried to calm himself.

“Yes sir. Just trying to get your vision onto the screen.”

“I got you here as a favor kid. Never forget that. Now I don’t want to hear about this again.”

The director turned and walked away. It wasn’t long before Mark walked over with a smug look on his face. Pax suppressed the urge to punch him in his well maintained face.

“Ya, let’s get to work then.”

____________________________

When the vlog goes live, Pax is seated behind his desk in his home office. As usual one the right of him is a picture of his late mother in jingle dress regalia shot at a Powwow. On his right are various items of his accomplishments. Save for the replica of the IWF Men’s Championship. He is wearing a white a-frame shirt and looking down and away from the camera.

“I can already hear em. Everyone talking about how Pax tucked tail and ran again. Once the going got tough he disappeared. I could sit here and talk about other engagements. About how I was put on the bench against my will.”

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

“But that ain’t the full truth. Cause I did. Dean beating me got in my head. It doesn't matter that I got pulled away for other commitments. That’s just an excuse. I got in my head again and it fucked with me. But for everything I’ve done? Everything I’ve been through? There ain’t no excuse for me to do that. It’s a betrayal of everything I stand for. The reasons I do what I do.”

He lifts his hands, his fingers entwined as he clasps them together and pushes them against his forehead.

“It ate me up inside. This vicious cycle of tearing myself up for losing. Then I go ahead and tear myself up for tearing myself up.. It goes in circles again and again until I’m all fucked up and sitting in the dark staring at the wall.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and places his hands on the table.

“So what do I say to them? What do I say to you? Hell, what do I say to myself? That it’s different this time? What proof is there that it will be? Cause the fact of the matter is that I got no proof of that. Hell I don’t even know if it will be. That when adversity steps up, it won’t just eat away at my brain and leave me paralyzed like it did before.”

“For so long I’ve carried this weight. It changes it’s face, but it’s always been the same. That I needed to be the best. To earn my way off the rez and make something of myself. To do the best I can to take care of my mom. To build a legacy. To be the best there ever was. Just slapping a new shade of paint on that weight. And whenever I failed. Whenever I fell, that weight would just crush me and bring me down. A prison of my own making.”

He rubs his hands across his desk, still unable to bring himself to look at the camera. To look at his viewers.

“The pressure to stand tall. To support those around me. To be good and righteous and never back down. Great ideas, but with the wrong way of thinking they turn from pillars to chains.”

He lifts a hand to wipe at his face before letting out a frustrated breath.

“So what’s different this time? I still want to compete. I love nothing better than standing in that ring, fighting for victory against my friends and my enemies. The lights and the roar of the crowd are when I feel the most alive. I want to earn my way back to the top. To earn respect back from all of you. To take hardships in stride. Because while I have proven that on any given day I can take down anyone in the ring? Fuck neechies, this is the top of the world in my sport. We have the best competitors in this business. On any given day any of them could beat me too. That’s just the way things are. The cards just fell right for them.”

He shifts in his chair, staring at the wall.

“I lost to Dean. In my first defense of the World Championship. That’s something I gotta deal with. It’s something I want to make right. The quickest way I can do that is walking into the Roulette, throwing out anyone who gets in my way and get my shot back at him. But the Roulette is as much about skill as it is about luck. I might not get to the end. And that’s something I gotta be OK with. I gotta trust in myself. Bet on myself. That no matter what obstacle comes in my path, to believe in myself that I am good enough to move forward and get back to where I deserve to be. To take this weight off my shoulders. Don’t let it drag me down, but push it forward to the finish line.”

He laughs softly and shakes his head.

“Push that bitch of a Millstone until I’m all shredded up like Conan.”

He lifts his head up to look into the camera for the first time in the Vlog.

“I ain’t perfect, fam. It’s a long, hard struggle. It’s a whole mindset. I’m getting help for it. Don’t worry, I’ll be a cocky son of a bitch later on. But for right now I needed to address the elephant in the room. To take that criticism that has always been with me head out. Admit that I fucked up. Admit my struggles. Then do what I always do. Push forward and show everyone just who the fuck I am.”

He smiles slightly.

“After all, that’s what I do. Just gotta learn to roll with the punches and not let them knock me down. To keep moving forward despite what happens. Despite what negative shit crops up in my head. Fuck, to remember that I am doing this for fun. There is nothing I love better than competing. Right here. Ain’t nowhere better than throwing down in this ring in this company.”

He runs his hands over his head, taking a few deep breaths before he lifts his gaze and beams that winning, boy scout smile of his at the camera before flashing his two fingers.

“What up Neechies. Ya boi is back.”