Post by Dre Cutler on Jun 7, 2017 21:52:01 GMT
"Dre!"
Dre Cutler, clad in a pair of black sweatpants and a white Nike t-shirt, halts and pivots to follow the direction from which his name came. He readjusts the duffle on his shoulder; smiling big as he walks towards the voice.
Dre Cutler: Frankie! How's it going, man?
Frankie Dunn: Fuck, it's going; I didn't think anyone would be here today seeing as it's closed on Sundays, but I definitely didn't expect to see your ass, of all people!
Frankie Dunn, decked out in gray sweats and sweatshirt, smiles as he walks towards Dre. The two of them meet in the center of the training complex and embrace. Dre takes a couple of steps back and adjusts his bag once more.
Dre Cutler: Yeah, man, it's -- it's been a while, that's for sure.
Frankie Dunn: Yeah, it's been what -- six months? Maybe a little more? I -- I don't know, man, just one day you didn't come back, ya know? And suddenly, poof, you're not on TV anymore.
Dre Cutler: I -- yeah, Frankie, I -- I needed to take some time away; I -- I needed to step back and try to clear my mind because I was confused. Everything -- professionally and personally -- just confused, scattered.
Frankie Dunn: (nodding) I sent ya a few texts and tried to call a couple of times, but I'm not one to harass, ya know?
Dre lowers his gaze and stares at the beaten and battered wooden flooring that stretches wall to wall throughout the gym. A rush of feelings hit him at once -- embarrassment, shame, and guilt. Frankie is the one and only friend Dre made while on this side of the city. Montgomery is heavily divided; one side is predominantly black while the other is white. To further his career and development, and because he had no other option, Dre relocated to the "white" side of the city. And his stay wasn't enjoyable; Frankie was the only light in a dark room. Frankie looked past the fact that he and Dre didn't share the same skin color -- instead, they chose to bond with one another because of a common goal: to be the very best professional wrestler they can.
Dre Cutler: I'm really sorry about that, Fra--
Frankie Dunn: Dre, stop, ya hear? You don't owe me an explanation. I'm just happy to have you back, all right?
Dre Cutler: I appreciate it, man, but I just feel li--
Frankie Dunn: Dre!
Frankie extends his hand and plops it on Cutler's left shoulder. Dre slowly raises his eyes and makes contact with Frankie's.
Frankie Dunn: You don't owe me anything, okay? Don't worry about it. You needed some time, some space -- you figured your shit out and you're back. That's all that matters, okay?
Dre hesitates before reluctantly nodding in response. Frankie smiles before pulling his hand away and shoving both into the pockets on his sweatpants. Dre turns his head slightly and looks past his friend; looking all the way to the back of the gym where a darkened office sits, empty -- a small and grimy room that belongs to Gabe Rogers.
And Gabe -- this man stuck his neck out for Dre. He accepted a black man into his gym because he saw true wresting potential. Skin color didn't matter to him -- and he took a lot of flack and lost much business for it. And Dre burned him, too, but Gabe let him come back.
Dre Cutler: I'm back for good though, you hear? I'm not going anywhere.
Frankie nods and opens his mouth to respond, but Dre turning back and locking eyes with him causes him to hesitate. He sees a passion in Dre's eyes, a fire -- one that was previously bright but disappeared towards the end of Dre's run. It sends chills up and down Frankie's spine and he can't help but to show a little smile.
Dre Cutler: Gabe, I can't thank him enough -- he's been real good to me. I've been back a couple of weeks now, working out at odd hours like this because I wanted to work off the rust in private. But this isn't how it's going to be; I'm not a coward, I'm not going to hide. I'm on a mission -- and I promise I'm not going to stop until I prove that I belong here; not only in the industry but on this side of town.
Frankie Dunn: Don't let anyone try to tell you that you don't belong, Dre. I've been trying to te--
Dre Cutler: I know, I know you have, man. And I -- I lost sight of it; I didn't have my shit together and I left. It's not happening again, all right? I'm here. And I'm sorry for everything, but you'll see that I mean business and shit's going to be right this time around.
Frankie Dunn: (nodding) Fuck, man, I'm so happy to have you back!
Dre Cutler: I'm happy to be back, man. I'm going to head out, though, I have a few things I need to take care of today, and it looks like you're about to get it in, so I'll leave you to it. Text or call me though, man, we can meet somewhere and catch up on some shit.
Frankie Dunn: Absolutely!
They embrace once again before Dre turns on his heel and heads in the direction from which he came. Frankie watches with his hands on his hips as Cutler reaches the exit and steps out of the gym, letting the door slam shut behind him. He doesn't get but a few steps away from the gym before his phone starts to ring. He smirks as he digs into his pocket and pulls it out; thinking it may be Frankie calling him already.
Dre Cutler: I ---
He stumbles through his words, losing track of them and trailing off into nothing as he locks eyes with his screen. The number isn't saved into his phone but he recognizes it as soon as he sees it. He swallows hard; struggling to breathe as if his body has forgotten how to do something that's always happened naturally.
Dre Cutler: Kelsey...
He whispers, letting a familiar and painful name crawl off the tip of his tongue...
----------
Dre Cutler, clad in a pair of black sweatpants and a white Nike t-shirt, halts and pivots to follow the direction from which his name came. He readjusts the duffle on his shoulder; smiling big as he walks towards the voice.
Dre Cutler: Frankie! How's it going, man?
Frankie Dunn: Fuck, it's going; I didn't think anyone would be here today seeing as it's closed on Sundays, but I definitely didn't expect to see your ass, of all people!
Frankie Dunn, decked out in gray sweats and sweatshirt, smiles as he walks towards Dre. The two of them meet in the center of the training complex and embrace. Dre takes a couple of steps back and adjusts his bag once more.
Dre Cutler: Yeah, man, it's -- it's been a while, that's for sure.
Frankie Dunn: Yeah, it's been what -- six months? Maybe a little more? I -- I don't know, man, just one day you didn't come back, ya know? And suddenly, poof, you're not on TV anymore.
Dre Cutler: I -- yeah, Frankie, I -- I needed to take some time away; I -- I needed to step back and try to clear my mind because I was confused. Everything -- professionally and personally -- just confused, scattered.
Frankie Dunn: (nodding) I sent ya a few texts and tried to call a couple of times, but I'm not one to harass, ya know?
Dre lowers his gaze and stares at the beaten and battered wooden flooring that stretches wall to wall throughout the gym. A rush of feelings hit him at once -- embarrassment, shame, and guilt. Frankie is the one and only friend Dre made while on this side of the city. Montgomery is heavily divided; one side is predominantly black while the other is white. To further his career and development, and because he had no other option, Dre relocated to the "white" side of the city. And his stay wasn't enjoyable; Frankie was the only light in a dark room. Frankie looked past the fact that he and Dre didn't share the same skin color -- instead, they chose to bond with one another because of a common goal: to be the very best professional wrestler they can.
Dre Cutler: I'm really sorry about that, Fra--
Frankie Dunn: Dre, stop, ya hear? You don't owe me an explanation. I'm just happy to have you back, all right?
Dre Cutler: I appreciate it, man, but I just feel li--
Frankie Dunn: Dre!
Frankie extends his hand and plops it on Cutler's left shoulder. Dre slowly raises his eyes and makes contact with Frankie's.
Frankie Dunn: You don't owe me anything, okay? Don't worry about it. You needed some time, some space -- you figured your shit out and you're back. That's all that matters, okay?
Dre hesitates before reluctantly nodding in response. Frankie smiles before pulling his hand away and shoving both into the pockets on his sweatpants. Dre turns his head slightly and looks past his friend; looking all the way to the back of the gym where a darkened office sits, empty -- a small and grimy room that belongs to Gabe Rogers.
And Gabe -- this man stuck his neck out for Dre. He accepted a black man into his gym because he saw true wresting potential. Skin color didn't matter to him -- and he took a lot of flack and lost much business for it. And Dre burned him, too, but Gabe let him come back.
Dre Cutler: I'm back for good though, you hear? I'm not going anywhere.
Frankie nods and opens his mouth to respond, but Dre turning back and locking eyes with him causes him to hesitate. He sees a passion in Dre's eyes, a fire -- one that was previously bright but disappeared towards the end of Dre's run. It sends chills up and down Frankie's spine and he can't help but to show a little smile.
Dre Cutler: Gabe, I can't thank him enough -- he's been real good to me. I've been back a couple of weeks now, working out at odd hours like this because I wanted to work off the rust in private. But this isn't how it's going to be; I'm not a coward, I'm not going to hide. I'm on a mission -- and I promise I'm not going to stop until I prove that I belong here; not only in the industry but on this side of town.
Frankie Dunn: Don't let anyone try to tell you that you don't belong, Dre. I've been trying to te--
Dre Cutler: I know, I know you have, man. And I -- I lost sight of it; I didn't have my shit together and I left. It's not happening again, all right? I'm here. And I'm sorry for everything, but you'll see that I mean business and shit's going to be right this time around.
Frankie Dunn: (nodding) Fuck, man, I'm so happy to have you back!
Dre Cutler: I'm happy to be back, man. I'm going to head out, though, I have a few things I need to take care of today, and it looks like you're about to get it in, so I'll leave you to it. Text or call me though, man, we can meet somewhere and catch up on some shit.
Frankie Dunn: Absolutely!
They embrace once again before Dre turns on his heel and heads in the direction from which he came. Frankie watches with his hands on his hips as Cutler reaches the exit and steps out of the gym, letting the door slam shut behind him. He doesn't get but a few steps away from the gym before his phone starts to ring. He smirks as he digs into his pocket and pulls it out; thinking it may be Frankie calling him already.
Dre Cutler: I ---
He stumbles through his words, losing track of them and trailing off into nothing as he locks eyes with his screen. The number isn't saved into his phone but he recognizes it as soon as he sees it. He swallows hard; struggling to breathe as if his body has forgotten how to do something that's always happened naturally.
Dre Cutler: Kelsey...
He whispers, letting a familiar and painful name crawl off the tip of his tongue...
----------
I was on the path towards greatness... and along that path, at some point during the journey, I lost my way.
And a career that looked so promising, so immediate, destined to go down in history as one of the most inspiring stories... gone.
Fizzled.
What happened to Dre Cutler?
A question I had to hear for many, many months. And it's a question I allowed to bounce around without an answer. I stayed out of the spotlight. I didn't want to acknowledge the question, let alone answer it. I needed some time, I needed to do a little bit of soul searching.
What happened to Dre Cutler? I didn't even know.
It took some time, but I can tell you where Dre Cutler is -- and he's here.
And he's hungry.
See, I came into this company a year ago and made an impact. I rose to the top so quickly, it was a shock to many, including myself, if I'm being honest. But I knew I had all of the ability in the world. I just needed to mature and develop as a wrestler, as well as a person. And I thought I could do it on the fly, but maybe I was wrong.
We flash forward -- and the era of Dre Cutler has been reincarnated and I'm on a path towards redemption. I'm on a path to rebuild my name, rebuild myself; and I'm back to do something that I couldn't get done during my original run in this company...
I'm here to win the Imperial championship.
But I don't believe, or feel like, I should have anything handed to me. I earned my spot last time; and Dre Cutler is going to earn his spot once again. A strong showing in the Heir to the Throne tournament put me on the map -- and this time, that journey is going to conclude in a victory that is going to put this industry on notice.
And this thought process brings me to my match this week, against a man by the name of Ulf Hednir. He made a challenge for Open Fight Night. A man with a dream, much like myself, but a man with only one match under his belt in this company.
Why would I accept this challenge?
Because, like you, Ulf, I have something to prove. My accomplishments, or lack thereof, from last year mean absolutely nothing in the present. In this moment, you and I, we are exactly the same. Clawing and fighting to prove that we deserve to be in this company. I'm no better than you are, as far as status is concerned, and that's exactly why I accepted this challenge.
To some, I may have more to lose than to gain by facing you this week. A victory over you -- what does that do for me? To an outsider, it does absolutely nothing. But for me -- it showcases an attitude I've never wanted to lose sight of, a humbleness I will always maintain. You and I, we are at the same place in this organization.
My name carries no more weight than yours.
And that's why I was happy to accept your challenge this week, Ulf.
I'm all about competition; all about putting on a good match for the fans. I thrive on effort, I thrive on desire -- and you, being so new to the company, you're determined. You're focused because you want to prove to yourself, as well as everyone else, that you belong in the ring with some of the greats that call this company home.
And I fucking love that.
I know you're going to bring it.
I know you're going to do everything you can to pick up the victory this week.
And that makes me smile.
I want your best. I want you to take me to my limits. The question is, Ulf, do you think you can take me there? Can you make me question my decision to return? Can you pull off, as some would say, the "upset?" Can you get the job done?
Or will you cave under the pressure?
Dre Cutler is on a mission; and while I consider myself a nice guy, I'm ready and willing to plow through you this week.
From what I've seen, some of your antics, I'm not sure you're responsible enough; if you're ready enough to be on a stage this big. You kind of remind me of myself last year, to be honest, and it intrigues me. You're green, and you're young, and I think your best judgment is clouded. You choose honor, you choose fun -- and sometimes, Ulf, those two things will crush you in this industry. Professional wrestling isn't a joke; it's not supposed to be fun. It's not filled with a lot of guys that pride themselves on honor.
And while I can respect your morals, they may very well be your downfall.
You have to be willing to get your hands dirty. I, too, like to do things the right way. But I can look you in the eyes and tell you I'm willing to do anything to get the job done.
Anything.
Your one match you've had -- it was a success. You got the job done. But you proceeded to make a fool of yourself once it was all said and done. You acted like a big kid that didn't understand how to comprehend a victory. You made a big deal out of it; and at the end of the day, what do you have to show for it? A win in the record books, but did it do anything for your legacy? For your name?
Stay humble, Ulf. Stay focused. And take this business seriously or it will break you. And I'm gunning for you this week. I want to embarrass you. I want to run circles around you out there. I want to show you that this industry will eat you alive if give it the chance. The fun and games stopped once you signed your name on the contract. This is business, and Dre Cutler is going to bring it this week.
You hear me? Show me what you have. Keep up with me. Throw punches with me. Make me work. Let's put on a helluva show and make the fans appreciate what you and I are able to do. And once all is said and done, after I've said HEY and picked up the victory, I'm more than willing to shake your hand. Because I see potential in you -- I see the possibility of greatness, Ulf.
You just.... you need to stay focused.
And maybe, just maybe, a couple of sharp kicks to the face will do the job.
Dre Cutler is back, and Dre Cutler is here to stay. And this week, Ulf, you're going to be in for a fight. With your personality, I'm sure you can return the fight -- I want you to do that. Bring it to me; come on, give me a fucking battle.
But I promise, I will... you hear me? I will break you down and I will walk out of our match victorious.
See you in the ring.