Post by kaster on Apr 15, 2024 4:01:40 GMT
“26… 27… 28… 29…”
The hands were starting to shake. He could feel muscles twitching and straining to get the weight up into the air. His arms had an internal blaze, all up and down. It didn’t help the menacing sneer of Kilgore loomed over him, daring him to stop now.
“30!”
Caleb racked the barbell and sat up, straddling the weight bench. He huffed and puffed, allowing some beads of sweat to roll down his temples. Kilgore stood there, arms crossed in their usual position.
“What?”
Kilgore looked at Cannin. His right eyebrow shot up inquisitively.
“Hm?”
“You look like you’ve got something to say. I’m not paying you to be a mute, so go on. What is it?”
Cannin’s bold approach made Kilgore contemplate for a second.
“You gotta put more weight on.”
Caleb frowned and shot a look at Kilgore like he was crazy.
“You think I’m skinny or something? Listen, I’m not some dumb roid rager who needs to eat 6 pounds of beef and shit-”
“I meant the barbell.”
“Huh? Oh. Why’s that?”
“You wanna beat that Harper guy, yeah?”
“I don’t want to, I need to.”
“Whatever. You’re gonna need to pack on a bit more muscle. Overpower him. If you can’t keep him down, you ain’t ever gonna beat him.”
Caleb looked down at his arms before grabbing his right bicep. Solid as a rock, like always. Then, he looked back at Kilgore. His arms looked like they were made out of rock. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so sure about his strength.
“Take five and we’ll come back to it.”
Kilgore shrugged and walked off, leaving Cannin alone. His eyes were drawn back to his arms as Kilgore’s words rang in his mind. Deep down, he knew that big bastard was right. He had to up his game more than ever if he wanted to accomplish the goal. Talking and taunting could only get him so far. He had to back it up sooner than later. If only Dad could-
“OY! Is it really you, bruv?!”
Caleb was awakened from his little zoning out moment. The man approaching him was lanky, wearing a blue tank top that hung off his body a bit. His shaved head was glistening with sweat, though that didn’t stop him from placing his hands upon it in shock.
“No way! I can’t even believe it! Caleb Cannin, here in the gym I go to! How are ya, mate?”
A hand stuck out to greet Cannin. He looked awkwardly at the sweaty palm before balling up his own hand into a fist. Cautiously, he extended the fist out to receive a bump. The fan smiled and obliged, barely containing his excitement.
“Uh, doing good, man. What about you?”
“Ah, doing bloody well now! We don’t get a lot of ya coming through here. Maybe some local lads, but never a real superstar!”
Caleb couldn’t help but smirk at the consistent stroking of his ego. It was nice to be appreciated, even by a gangly fanboy.
“So you’re a fan of IWF, huh?”
“Yeah, but I’m also a huge fan of yours! Been watching for a few years now, but the lads and I really love watching you work! We saw that cash-in at the end of High Stakes and we were like-”
He mimed his head exploding while Cannin chuckled at the enthusiasm.
“Hey, big time moment for a big time star. And there will be a lot more to come, I guarantee it.”
“Can’t wait for it, mate! Hope you can finally win that big one. My mates and I are gonna be rooting for ya!”
“Yeah… thanks. I’m going to do my best to inspire change. Change for everybody.”
“Oh? You actually believe in all that?”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought that was sort of like, y’know, something for the cameras. A new era? C’mon, mate! All that’s just for show! We just want to see ya get the belt.”
“Oh… well, you’ll have to see what happens. Hope you and your friends are going to like what you see.”
“I’m sure you’ll give us a banger of a show! Hey, can I maybe get a-”
The fan reached into his pocket, though he stopped at the sight of an approaching Kilgore. He sheepishly nodded and scurried off.
“Who was that? Give you any trouble?”
“No… just some random guy. Just some random guy…”
Was he meant to inspire change? Or was the fan right? Did Caleb really believe in everything he preached, or was it just a way to climb up the ladder faster? He looked down at his arms… then at his hands. The hands that could hold that championship. The symbol of power and greatness in his sport. It could mark change… but would it?
“Get those weights up. Time to see how much I can do.”
“You’re the boss.”
He lay back down on the bench and gripped the bar. His muscles began to tense up as he pushed the barbell off the rack.
“1…”
“Who?”
“No, seriously… who?”
Caleb Cannin leans back on the wall with the locker room door just to his right. He holds a piece of paper in his hands, scanning over it.
“It says right here that his name is Adel Travent. A performance center guy, apparently. Look, man, I know this might look like your hundredth chance at a big break. You might think that I’m not going to take this seriously. You probably believe that I’ll have no interest in facing you at Sacrifice in front of thousands at the Hydro. And you’d be right!”
He crumples the paper up into a ball and tosses it away.
“I don’t give a shit about you or whatever your dreams are. Stay in your own lane, Adel. But don’t think that because I don’t care, I won’t make it easy on you. In fact, I haven’t wrestled in a couple months… so think of this as my warm-up. You get to be in the ring with one of the best and I get to run circles around you. This is an opportunity for both of us! So don’t let the bright lights and roaring fans distract you from the fact that you’ll be in the ring with one of the most dangerous individuals on the IWF roster.”
“And as for that little appetizer from High Stakes, let’s just say that I think ol’ Dean-o is going to be in for a rough one. Assuming he survives that match with Ethan King, of course. My contract was officially cashed in, but I chose to keep the people guessing for a little while. Dean, I hope you’ve been keeping eyes in the back of your head. I know you want to fight for what you believe in, but I will fight to make this place better. And that means taking your championship from you by any means necessary. Hell, I know you’re probably all concerned with Warren winning the Roulette, but you have to remember just who exactly you’re dealing with.”
Cannin takes off his sunglasses and slowly folds them up. After shoving them into his jacket pocket, he looks at the camera and flashes a grin.
“I can feel it in the air… it’s electric. Like lightning in the clouds. Soon enough, there will be a new IWF World Champion. And his name is… THE FUTURE… THE FUUUUUUTUUUUUURE… THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE… Caleb. Cannin.”
“Oh, by the way, Travent, I hope you realize there’s already an Adel in the UK. And she’s way more popular than you’ll ever be. See you at Sacrifice.”
He winks at the camera before opening the door to the locker room. Once the door slams shut, the camera cuts to black.
Well howdy there pardner.