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(07-14-2014)

The sound of metal forks can be heard as the scene opens in a packed diner. Lots of murmering voices and laughter can be heard from the patrons. The patron you and I are focused on however, is a young man in his early twenties. Sunglasses, long blonde hair. He's dressed rather casually with a blue shirt sporting a palmetto tree and a crescent moon and a pair of blue jeans. Across from him sits an average looking older female in a pink button up shirt and a pair of black slacks. The older woman seems to be very excited about something.

"Look Alex, I'm just saying that the Montreal Screwjob was where Hart went downhill!"

The young man took a bite of his eggs, wiping his mouth. He replied, quite soft spoken.

"No, Sheila. Just no. What brought Hart down was when that amateur Bill Goldberg hit him with that stiff kick." He sipped from his glass of water, cubes clinking in the glass. "If you noticed, Hart was wrestling in top form down south, at least until that night.

"Well yeah, I guess you're right. It's not as if he was booked right."

"And that's exactly what the big companies do. I mean sure, Hart was booked excellently in WWF...er...E. Sorry, I forgot to get the F out. Now he had a few dark spots, but otherwise the Hitman always brought it. And that's why I admired him. A hard worker and excellent on the mic."

Observe one Alexander Aries. He is a twenty three year old professional wrestler, from the great state of South Carolina. Yes, he is a Southerner, however he is a very well spoken and intelligent young man. Because in the south, little boys are taught manners. The middle aged woman with him is a relative of his. She is his aunt. Shiela is fifty two years old, and a very sweet lady. She is also very young looking and beautiful, and just so happens to work in promotional work. Namely promotional work for Aries, who has spent five years in high school gyms and independent feds.

"So...is that why you haven't tried to get a contract with an actual global company?"

"Kinda. I mean, I just can't see myself on tv being all gimmicky. It would be like I get over on a stupid gimmick. Then that gimmick grows stale, and the management decides to turn me into a comedy act. No thanks. Not my thing.

Shiela Willis just shook her head and sighed.

"You know, that's ashamed."

"Why? I make all the money I need doing the independent shows. The fans love me, even though sometimes I play rough. A man ought not have to get over on his writers. A man should do this for the chance to showcase his skills. Like how I always seem to have a counter for every hold, and all those hardcore fans just jump out of their seats and scream when I make a man tap. So yeah...I don't think it's a shame. Just natural, Aunt Shiela.

Three time collegiate level champion. That is wgere he plied his craft. His pro skills came in the form of hands on training from none other than William Regal. He'd chosen an STF as his favorite submission hold, and he'd made many a man tap. His Aunt knew the kid had all the properties of a Bret Hart or a Chris Benoit. And honestly, it saddened her. In her eyes, he was wasting his potential. As the waitress came to check on them, Alexander gave the pretty blonde a soft, humble smile.

"Can I get ya'll anything else?"

"No ma'am, bring the check please. It was delicious."

"I'll give your compliments to the chef, Mister Aries."

Aunt Shiela, meanwhile, was thumbing through her contact list. She'd procured a many a promoter's number from her years, and one that stood out aboce the rest was Miranda Tigris. Miranda had been watching tapes of the South Carolina Submission Machine...The Assassin. She'd contacted Sheila many times, but Aries always said no. She watched her nephew tip the waitress with a ten dollar bill, a piece of paper tucked into the bill. His phone number. Alex stood up and actually stacked the plates for the waitress. He and his Aunt left the small diner, walking over to his baby. His baby? It was a two thousand ten toyota tundra. Blue. As the two got into the truck, Sheila looked at her nephew.

"I'm sorry Alex, I really think you should consider hitting the big leagues."

He started the Tundra, the engine roaring to life.

"You know, I think we should go see Mom and Dad. It's getting about time for their anniversary..." He swallowed, changing the subject. "...what do you think?"

"Oh, it is, isn't it? Right, we should go."

And so, without another word between the two, the headed off down the road.

To Be Continued.

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