It’s been a while that Goth has been in a different federation than Sin City Wrestling, but he is the type of guy that likes to move around. Decided to take a chance with XWF, a suggestion was made by Mac Bane and the rest has been history. The money was never an issue, he has packed more arena’s than he cared to remember. The excitement to once again prove himself all over again was enough for him to do so. But that was merely the reason he wanted the outside world to know, deep down inside there was a more significant desire to prove his worth.

 

 

A sinister chuckle escapes his lips, his mouth is dry as he moistens them by running his tongue all over the skin. The veteran has read the card to emerge upon the next Saturday Night Savage…

 

 

He thinks back to the early days of his career, how he had enjoyed inflicting pain and violence upon others. The thoughts aren’t of sheer fondness, more reminiscence of his violent youth. The wrong influences, the amount of drug substances that he had used at an early age…. The need to always get high, it had always brought out his violent side he had never known existed. The smile has vanished as tears emerge, emergence of the long memories of his now dead wife. The one person that had  saved him from his existence of a gang member back in the early years of his life in the Netherlands. He had hated himself for it for so many years, he had damaged the trust of his mother in him and he couldn’t blame her for it. He just wished he would have done things differently instead of just running away from his own responsibilities and blame the world for his damaged life.

 

 

He whispers softly, a second chance came. The only thing he had to do was just leave his past, burn all the ties to his existence and start all over again. Sounds easy isn’t it?? Without much money, no home. No friends in an unknown country that he had only seen on tv and movies. He would have fallen in the wrong hands once more if it wasn’t for his wife, the woman that was with him every step all the way until his success had come. A success story that he could credit his violent life from the past, at least he had learned to defend himself and never give up. Something that he had grown to understand was pivotal in the wrestling world then and now, the moves may have changed and the names have altered. But he knew that only the best would overcome and adapt, like he has done for nearly twenty years.

 

 

He had to admit that there was a moment of doubt, that there was a moment of self-reflection. To just give up the life that he had led in anonymity, to once again step foot in the spotlights and become public property number one once more?? His son had been nagging at him to take him to wrestling shows, to use his influences to get backstage and meet the wrestlers….

 

 

He couldn’t help but smile, he knew the day would come that his sons interests would change. It was fine with him, at least his son had never asked him to be a wrestler…yet, but with his fiancé now having become a wrestler herself made him worry about the possible trifecta. Only to resign himself to the situation if it indeed would have happen. Because a passion isn’t something that you can evaporate like the summer heat would do with a drop of liquid.

 

He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. Scowling at himself for the mere fact that his thoughts are drifting off once more. Is his age finally getting to him? He starts to count from ten to zero backwards, focusing upon the mere braincells that he has got left before shaking his head and chuckling to himself.

 

 

But he knows it will, he nearly wishes to bang his head against a concrete wall. Trying to soothe the dilemma inside his mind that he has been having for quite some time. Often wondered whether there is a cure for his mental state, but often realizing that there’s only an antidote if you truly want it. It’s riddles that drift through his brain, riddles that often drives him insane.

 

 

He thinks about his fiancé once more, the woman that cured him from his alcohol abuse. He wonders whether his life is meant to be saved by a woman. Whether it was his mother, his deceased wife or his fiancé now… they all knew what was best. They all know the true meaning of his existence. Is there a coincidence that he thrives through that?? He stares at his fist, remembering every injury that he has sustained throughout the years. Every single bone that had to be readjusted, every joint that had to be popped back into its socket for him to continue… A man that didn’t cared about injury, pain was his motivation and would not stop him from another fight. And yet….

 

He whispers while attempting to hide a smile through his hair, he seems troubled. But there’s no bottle nowhere to be seen, something he has prided himself for being sober for several years now. It has changed him, it cleared his thoughts and realized that anger and anguish has now been replaced by love and doubt. The doubt that has often made him grind his teeth. Seeking for anger once more, as it cleaned his head in the past…. Only if it was for a single day before the path of destruction started all over again on the very next. He knew it would not matter now, he knew that nobody in present society would care about your past or present failures or pains. Solely being focused upon themselves and their careers, causing him to look oh so differently to the statement from the meaning behind “Killing in the name off” in comparison to what it had meant to him decades ago.

 

 

There’s a silence, it is creeping inside of his brain. He pushes his head backwards, resting it against the concrete wall of his hotel room that he already knew he was hating. It was such a typical hotel room that wrestlers would receive when they are rich and famous, while the only thing he needed was a bed, a shower and the woman he loved. He could care less of all the bonus items that you could exploit, he could care less about the many channels that ordinary people had to pay large sums of money for to watch. He had often wondered whether the comparison to Only Fans would have done justice to the filth he sometimes amused over.

 

 

He scowls, he hated to hear him sound like an old father. Angering himself as he is a father now for many years, realizing that he had turned out to be the person that he had vowed never to become. He had asked himself openly many times how many fathers would have found themselves in the same position that he has found himself in these days. The word hypocrite had often found its way on the tip of the tongue, but he had so far always managed to avoid the temptation to give in. And now? Now he is finding himself to educate someone in a different perspective of his life, inside the ring. But at least he knew that he would enjoy this if he would succeed in doing so, realizing that as of late he has been very successful in the other organization that he has been at for many years.

 

The often fainted attempts to rattle him with the classic words of Old Yeller has been mentioned many of times, the classic line of remaining retired at home old man was a good number two. And truth needed to be told that he remembered himself being frustrated with he veterans at that part of his career. Always seemingly to know it all, to manage to hang with the young guns and beat them more often than none.

 

 

There’s silence

 

 

He sighs as he shakes his head in disbelief.

 

 

There’s silence, he is not believing his own words. Is he truly talking to someone that is so far secluded from what reality should be in this modern day of living? He knows how things has changed in comparison to twenty or even more years ago. But to use these words to connect with someone probably more than half his age??

 

 

He sighs with anguish in his heart, he had trouble connecting with his son when he was growing up. He had never been able to learn how to be a father until much later, he felt he had neglected his son for quite some time even though he had not. Quite frankly, his son nowadays would be so much into his opponent as games were one of his favourite past time things to do. Goth could never understand what the fascination was with seeing puppets run around, controlling them with a controller and jump over things by the mere push of a button. Back in the day he went outside, playing with a ball, playing tag or at a later age went on a sports. Just to keep yourself busy, but things has changed so much that he nowadays doesn’t know what the kids do these days… and that’s something he despised about them.

 

 

Goth shakes his head, the name of Game Girl pops inside his brain as a clear image of something that he does not wish to represent.

 

 

Goth closes his eyes as he allows a sickening smile to emerge upon his lips.

 

 

With that the shot slowly fades.

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