Post by “The Better Man” Warren Kidd on Aug 3, 2024 12:34:06 GMT
“We’re almost ready for you, Mr Harper,” Westlake said. “Two minutes.”
For the first time in his life Warren deeply regretted taking Dean’s last name. Of all the mistakes he’d ever made in their marriage, and there were a lot, right now that felt like the biggest. Throughout their covenant, there had always been times when he felt uncomfortable carrying the name, but this was the first time being associated with it actually turned his stomach and made his skin crawl.
Warren briefly considered if it had anything to do with how the senior camera operator had said it, but when he couldn’t pin the blame on Nathan’s shoulders, he silently lamented that every alternative he could go by would still carry a bastard association. Kidd, Kane or Harper, it didn’t matter, they were all just different flavours of arsehole woman beaters who he would forever be linked to now.
Warren hid how much that particular fact of his life gnawed at his heart and disturbed his core behind the brightest and warmest smile he could muster for his five year old son, Damien, who stood holding Warren’s World Championship in one hand and Mimi Simpson’s hand in the other. Warren dropped to one knee before the boy who looked at him with all the love in the world, the only person who still seemed to, and reunited Damien with his beloved Bluey plushie in exchange for getting his title back.
“Thank you,” father and son said at once.
Warren took off his Team Diversity Hire emblazoned baseball cap, and placed it on Damien’s head backwards to now perfectly complement their matching Heir To The Throne 2024 Pax Stormcrow t-shirts. Damien needed better role models than either he or Dean could be right now and in the absence of Andrew Jacobsen, Pax Stormcrow was more than adequate to fill that role, Warren had thought. If Dean disagreed when Warren had brought over the shirt when he picked Damien up from Dean’s hotel room, he hadn’t said, which usually meant his husband was doing his best to avoid an argument in front of their son. The Harpers would never win any Father of The Year awards, but they at least made an effort not to let Damien see or hear their fights.
“Alright kiddo, Dad has to work now,” Warren hugged Damien tight. “Be good for Mimi, and we’ll meet up at the frog fountain when I’m finished, okay?”
Damien nodded, “Love you Dad.”
“Love you too, Damo.”
Warren didn’t always share Damien’s reluctance to let go, but he did in this instance. He forced himself to hold it together, to be stronger than he typically was on his own as he released Damien to Mimi’s care again, with a slight wince. His back was still sore from being chokeslammed through a table a few days ago, not that he bothered official medical channels with it anymore than he had to. He couldn’t be declared unready for any match against Pax Stormcrow, so Mimi had enthusiastically volunteered to look after him unofficially. Warren thought Mimi felt a certain kinship with him over both being such disappointments to their fathers. Mimi could and should have been a doctor or a surgeon, somebody worthy of the white man’s respect and privilege, according to her Dad, but instead she’d dropped out of medical school to follow her heart and become a performer in the wrestling business, not even a real athlete her Dad had lamented.
Warren sympathised deeply, of course and so Mimi seemed the natural choice to join them on this trip to Ueno Park whilst Dawn had other commitments looking after the Daniels’ twins when Vivienne was busy, apparently being trained by her husband for a match against Dean. Warren wasn’t sure if management had even granted such a request but Vivienne was obviously out for blood and determined to get her revenge on Dean sooner rather than later. Warren didn’t feel as conflicted as he should be about one of his best friends preparing to wage war against his husband, which suited him just fine. He didn’t need such a major distraction heading into his first defense against a very game Pax Stormcrow later in the month, anyway.
For the first time in his life Warren deeply regretted taking Dean’s last name. Of all the mistakes he’d ever made in their marriage, and there were a lot, right now that felt like the biggest. Throughout their covenant, there had always been times when he felt uncomfortable carrying the name, but this was the first time being associated with it actually turned his stomach and made his skin crawl.
Warren briefly considered if it had anything to do with how the senior camera operator had said it, but when he couldn’t pin the blame on Nathan’s shoulders, he silently lamented that every alternative he could go by would still carry a bastard association. Kidd, Kane or Harper, it didn’t matter, they were all just different flavours of arsehole woman beaters who he would forever be linked to now.
Warren hid how much that particular fact of his life gnawed at his heart and disturbed his core behind the brightest and warmest smile he could muster for his five year old son, Damien, who stood holding Warren’s World Championship in one hand and Mimi Simpson’s hand in the other. Warren dropped to one knee before the boy who looked at him with all the love in the world, the only person who still seemed to, and reunited Damien with his beloved Bluey plushie in exchange for getting his title back.
“Thank you,” father and son said at once.
Warren took off his Team Diversity Hire emblazoned baseball cap, and placed it on Damien’s head backwards to now perfectly complement their matching Heir To The Throne 2024 Pax Stormcrow t-shirts. Damien needed better role models than either he or Dean could be right now and in the absence of Andrew Jacobsen, Pax Stormcrow was more than adequate to fill that role, Warren had thought. If Dean disagreed when Warren had brought over the shirt when he picked Damien up from Dean’s hotel room, he hadn’t said, which usually meant his husband was doing his best to avoid an argument in front of their son. The Harpers would never win any Father of The Year awards, but they at least made an effort not to let Damien see or hear their fights.
“Alright kiddo, Dad has to work now,” Warren hugged Damien tight. “Be good for Mimi, and we’ll meet up at the frog fountain when I’m finished, okay?”
Damien nodded, “Love you Dad.”
“Love you too, Damo.”
Warren didn’t always share Damien’s reluctance to let go, but he did in this instance. He forced himself to hold it together, to be stronger than he typically was on his own as he released Damien to Mimi’s care again, with a slight wince. His back was still sore from being chokeslammed through a table a few days ago, not that he bothered official medical channels with it anymore than he had to. He couldn’t be declared unready for any match against Pax Stormcrow, so Mimi had enthusiastically volunteered to look after him unofficially. Warren thought Mimi felt a certain kinship with him over both being such disappointments to their fathers. Mimi could and should have been a doctor or a surgeon, somebody worthy of the white man’s respect and privilege, according to her Dad, but instead she’d dropped out of medical school to follow her heart and become a performer in the wrestling business, not even a real athlete her Dad had lamented.
Warren sympathised deeply, of course and so Mimi seemed the natural choice to join them on this trip to Ueno Park whilst Dawn had other commitments looking after the Daniels’ twins when Vivienne was busy, apparently being trained by her husband for a match against Dean. Warren wasn’t sure if management had even granted such a request but Vivienne was obviously out for blood and determined to get her revenge on Dean sooner rather than later. Warren didn’t feel as conflicted as he should be about one of his best friends preparing to wage war against his husband, which suited him just fine. He didn’t need such a major distraction heading into his first defense against a very game Pax Stormcrow later in the month, anyway.
~~~
Sat cross-legged with the World Championship folded across his lap, before the Tower of Forgotten Time Memorial Statue, Warren felt a sympathetic resonance as he presented himself as the mother’s third child to the world, already an unfortunate victim of the bloody war that was surely brewing on the horizon between his husband and all of their many, many detractors. Somehow Warren had to get out in front and dodge every stray bullet that was sure to come his way.
Even though I know you didn’t deny Madjinn the ultimate opportunity in yet another Heir To The Throne tournament for anybody other than yourself, I still feel I owe you a tremendous debt of gratitude for putting that mad dog down when you did. Both of you promised so much, but only one of you managed to keep your word, and between the man who just wants my Championship and the man who wants to cripple me just to prove he can, I’d rather take my chances with the purebred athlete you are Pax than my husband’s even more psychotic step-brother, thank you very much.
Fact is, with all the shit going on for me personally right now, I’m in no shape mentally or physically to be dragged into a war between bloodlines and legacies or whatever other bullshit Madjinn wanted to make this about. So in that sense, if Madjinn wants me to go on record and say that his family and stepfamily is far superior in ring and in this company than my birth family ever was, as far as I’m concerned I’m ready to concede that fact publicly, right here and right now. Especially if it’ll get you the fuck off my nutsack for five minutes.
The Blakes and the Fenixes are more legendary than the Kanes will ever be.
There, happy now, you fucking clown?
I hope you enjoy that warm tingle for as long as it lasts, because I really don’t fucking care. I’m more than the groin soup that brought me into the world, and I’m sorry that Madjinn defines his entire self worth in the business by arbitrary choices that weren’t even his to make in the first place.
Even with that concession, you can’t take as much from me as you fucking want to.
I am still the World Champion and right now Madjinn isn’t even a contender.
I am still the best in the business today, so I’ve lost nothing by telling you what you want to hear.
So sit the fuck down Madjinn and let an actually worthy challenger take his shot at the greatest wrestler in this present moment, okay? Sorry Pax, I’m not overlooking you or anything, but I figure we’ve got a good few weeks to trash each other in the build to Legacy if you really want so spending five minutes to set Madjinn straight won’t make that much of a difference in the grander scheme of things.
And since I’m obviously not above making concessions Pax, if you want me to admit that I’m not as morally superior as you are, I will. I’m not a good man, never have been, never will be. True I spent years trying to convince myself that I could still be an Angel even whilst choking on the Devil’s seed every night, but not anymore.
I am damaged goods who deserves no sympathy at all.
I am a fool who thought true love could fix years of generational trauma for both my husband and I, but after Lineage I’m done painting over Dean’s spots and I’m done painting over my stripes. All I can do is apologise and try to be better. If that isn’t good enough for all the people I’ve hurt both directly and indirectly, then please form an orderly queue behind Stormcrow to take your best shot at me.
You can’t break the already broken, no matter how hard you try.
How lucky you are Pax never to have been hammered to the point of desperation by all those in your life who claimed to love and protect you. I have no excuses for any of my actions or my complicity in hurting women through inaction, and nobody can ever punish me any harder for that than I already do.
So please, spare me the righteous dressing down over the company I keep, Pax.
It isn’t your job to be my conscience or to pass judgment over my life choices. That won’t get you back to the top of the mountain. It’s your job to suplex me out of my boots whilst millions cheer the heroes you and Nat are over the villains that Serenity and I are.
So please, stick to that.
My moniker is not who I am right now, but rather who I aspire to be one day.
Better than the best.
And morally, you are the best, Pax, of that there is no question.
So please, for the love of God, everyone leave me the fuck alone.
It’s all I fucking deserve.
Sat cross-legged with the World Championship folded across his lap, before the Tower of Forgotten Time Memorial Statue, Warren felt a sympathetic resonance as he presented himself as the mother’s third child to the world, already an unfortunate victim of the bloody war that was surely brewing on the horizon between his husband and all of their many, many detractors. Somehow Warren had to get out in front and dodge every stray bullet that was sure to come his way.
Even though I know you didn’t deny Madjinn the ultimate opportunity in yet another Heir To The Throne tournament for anybody other than yourself, I still feel I owe you a tremendous debt of gratitude for putting that mad dog down when you did. Both of you promised so much, but only one of you managed to keep your word, and between the man who just wants my Championship and the man who wants to cripple me just to prove he can, I’d rather take my chances with the purebred athlete you are Pax than my husband’s even more psychotic step-brother, thank you very much.
Fact is, with all the shit going on for me personally right now, I’m in no shape mentally or physically to be dragged into a war between bloodlines and legacies or whatever other bullshit Madjinn wanted to make this about. So in that sense, if Madjinn wants me to go on record and say that his family and stepfamily is far superior in ring and in this company than my birth family ever was, as far as I’m concerned I’m ready to concede that fact publicly, right here and right now. Especially if it’ll get you the fuck off my nutsack for five minutes.
The Blakes and the Fenixes are more legendary than the Kanes will ever be.
There, happy now, you fucking clown?
I hope you enjoy that warm tingle for as long as it lasts, because I really don’t fucking care. I’m more than the groin soup that brought me into the world, and I’m sorry that Madjinn defines his entire self worth in the business by arbitrary choices that weren’t even his to make in the first place.
Even with that concession, you can’t take as much from me as you fucking want to.
I am still the World Champion and right now Madjinn isn’t even a contender.
I am still the best in the business today, so I’ve lost nothing by telling you what you want to hear.
So sit the fuck down Madjinn and let an actually worthy challenger take his shot at the greatest wrestler in this present moment, okay? Sorry Pax, I’m not overlooking you or anything, but I figure we’ve got a good few weeks to trash each other in the build to Legacy if you really want so spending five minutes to set Madjinn straight won’t make that much of a difference in the grander scheme of things.
And since I’m obviously not above making concessions Pax, if you want me to admit that I’m not as morally superior as you are, I will. I’m not a good man, never have been, never will be. True I spent years trying to convince myself that I could still be an Angel even whilst choking on the Devil’s seed every night, but not anymore.
I am damaged goods who deserves no sympathy at all.
I am a fool who thought true love could fix years of generational trauma for both my husband and I, but after Lineage I’m done painting over Dean’s spots and I’m done painting over my stripes. All I can do is apologise and try to be better. If that isn’t good enough for all the people I’ve hurt both directly and indirectly, then please form an orderly queue behind Stormcrow to take your best shot at me.
You can’t break the already broken, no matter how hard you try.
How lucky you are Pax never to have been hammered to the point of desperation by all those in your life who claimed to love and protect you. I have no excuses for any of my actions or my complicity in hurting women through inaction, and nobody can ever punish me any harder for that than I already do.
So please, spare me the righteous dressing down over the company I keep, Pax.
It isn’t your job to be my conscience or to pass judgment over my life choices. That won’t get you back to the top of the mountain. It’s your job to suplex me out of my boots whilst millions cheer the heroes you and Nat are over the villains that Serenity and I are.
So please, stick to that.
My moniker is not who I am right now, but rather who I aspire to be one day.
Better than the best.
And morally, you are the best, Pax, of that there is no question.
So please, for the love of God, everyone leave me the fuck alone.
It’s all I fucking deserve.
Well howdy there pardner.