My match at Wildcard is less than two weeks away. That's really not enough time to train for a return, especially when you've been away from active competition for as long as I have. Granted, I haven't been sitting on my ass for the last decade. I've managed to get a few workouts in every week since I retired. I mean, I didn't want to be one of those athletes that gains a couple of hundred pounds as soon as they walk away from their sport. Getting a few casual workouts in here and there, and training to be a competitor are two different things though. Even if I wasn't on the wrong side of forty, I would be in terrible cardiovascular shape for this match. That's why I'm here at Gold's Gym in downtown Pittsburgh. Realistically there isn't much I can accomplish in the next two weeks, but it's better to try than to go in completely unprepared.
Damn I'm out of breath! I've only been running on this treadmill for twenty five minutes, yet it feels like an eternity. I reach out to change the settings, turning the speed down a few notches. Maybe I shouldn't be so cocky about this match. There's a fair chance that this kid is going to pummel me. Wouldn't that be a son of a bitch? Return to the XWF and make this big stink over that guy stealing my gimmick, only to have him whoop my ass and send me packing. No, I'm not going to let that happen. I've already made up my mind that no matter what, I'm walking out the victor at Wildcard. Facing off against Michael Graves isn't even my motivation anymore. He's taken a backseat to what I really want to do. I want to remind the XWF just who in the fuck I am. Michael is just an obstacle at this point!
I reach out and turn the speed back up. I do it because I realize that I'm in a situation where I need to go big, or go home. I can't half ass this, I can't let things like pain and fatigue stand in my way. I see their looks whenever I enter a room. I hear some of the snide comments they have made. Some people have been cool, but most of the boys don't seem to want me there. It's not because they are afraid of me, it's because they don't respect me. When they look at me, they don't see a veteran of the XWF. Instead they see an old man who is past his prime. They think that I am here to try and take attention away from them, and that eventually I'll grow bored and walk away. I don't really blame them though. I've seen a lot of guys do that in the past. They come in for a few big money matches, and then they're gone. They come in just long enough to hog some of the spot light before leaving the company in worse shape than they found it. It's my job to show these guys what my worth is. No one cares about my history, they are only concerned with what I can contribute to the XWF now. When I was younger I thought that I was king shit in the XWF. I mean I did beat some of the legendary names like Steve Jason. Steve Jason is like the XWFs number one legend. He literally holds the number one spot in the XWF all time top 50, and I beat him. It kind of makes me feel like that guy who beat Floyd Mayweather in the amateurs. What was his name? Exactly!
My lungs are burning and my legs are starting to feel numb. I should stop before I injure myself. There is determination, then there is stupidity. I reach out and turn the tread mill off. My brisk pace comes to a crawl, and I step off the machine. My legs feel like noodles, and I'm panting like a dog locked in a hot car. I walk over to an unoccupied wall and take a long drink of water. I'll just take a minute to catch my breath.
Stephanie (my wife) is hesitant about me making a full time return. We weren't married at the time, but she is aware of all of the crazy shit that was happening with me at the time. My brother Sean tried to take my life, twice! CYREN beat me to Hell and back, almost ended my career right there. Of course that was before he became a joke around here. Then there was that shit with Weapon:Ashen. What they did to me... I wasn't even myself anymore. I don't know how I managed to come back from that, but that is why I decided to leave. There was too much crazy going on here, Stephanie was pregnant with our first child, and I'll be damned if I wasn't going to be there for that kid! I had to get away, I just couldn't risk dying in that ring, but why is it different now? Simple, because I am finished with fear ruling my decisions!
I've caught my breath, I should continue my workout. Leg press, that seems like a plan. I'll go ahead and get the leg workout out of the way now, and hit the back muscles before I take off for the day. I walk up to the machine and start loading weights on either side. I remember a time when I could press 1200 pounds and pop about 5 reps. Now isn't then though, I'd better take it slow. I settle for 800 pounds as I position myself into the machine.
Back to why I left, whatever it was that the Black Order did to me... Hell I don't even know for sure if it was them. Somebody attacked and kidnapped me. I never saw who it was. The next thing I remember is a series of vague memories that took place in some sort of laboratory. I remember killing people... so many people. I remember being shot over and over, but the bullets never took me down. That's all that I remember until, one day I was standing in the gorilla position, waiting to make my entrance for a match. It felt like I was waking up to a world that I had been dead to for so long. I didn't know how I had gotten there, but I knew that I had to get away. So that's what I did, I just left. It wasn't until later that I found out I had been performing as Dark-Weapon:Gehenna for months. I didn't remember any of it.
AH! That's smarts! I just felt something in my thigh tear. It's a struggle, but I manage to get the leg press back into the resting position. I sit up and rub the top of my thigh, trying to workout the pain. This is exactly what I'm afraid of. My mind and heart are willing to go, but is my body going to be a problem? “It doesn't have to be.”
"What?" I look side to side and all around, but it doesn't seem like anyone around me said that. Whatever, my leg doesn't hurt that bad and I don't think it's a serious injury. Maybe I can finish out the day. I removed the weights from the leg press and clean my area. Proper gym hygiene is important. I see too many douche bags just walk away from a machine that's drenched in their sweat like it's no big deal. Do they really think everyone else wants to lay in their filth? Or is it that they are so conceited that they just don't care? I make my way over to the seated leg curl machine. I set the weight appropriately and massage my thigh once more before I begin lifting.
Yeah, I hold a victory over Steve Jason, a victory that nobody remembers. I've often wondered why nobody remembered. Not just that I was able to beat Steve Jason, but the other names that I beat too. Dynamic Dynamite, Raziel, the list goes on. Ever since the day that I contacted Vincent Lane and asked to make an appearance on Warefare, I've began digging into my career. I've watched every promo I could find. I've studied all of my matches. While going through all of these old tapes I had an epiphany. I realized that I was never as good as I thought I was. I was a career mid carder that was able to show glimpses of greatness. Those glimpses are who I managed victories over such legends. The problem was I never could hold onto that momentum. At the time I couldn't see that. I couldn't see how my lack of true desire was holding me back. I only saw the results in the ring. I took one look at my win loss record, which was 39 wins to 8 losses, and I thought with an 83% success rate, I should be afforded more opportunities. I was very naive back then. I didn't realize that winning matches wasn't all that there was to wrestling. I didn't realize that while I was winning match, I was failing to get anyone to care.
I was a vampire. I mean I really thought that I was a vampire. I drank blood, avoided the sun like it would kill me. I murdered, I raped, I tried to take what I wanted and to Hell with the consequences. On more than one occasion, my actions would offend the wrong person in the office. I had a lot of opportunities taken from me for that very reason. What's funny to me, looking back on it. If I would have debuted here now, and not in 2003. I think I would have fit in nicely. Since coming here I've seen devil worshipers, coke heads, assassins, and all kinds of what the fuck type of stuff. The other day I watched an XWF talent murder a woman about 20 feet away. Nobody seemed to bat an eyelash at it. Hell one dude just walked over to shake the guys hand and offer him some snow. It's ironic that I would fit in to this group so well, but I'm trying my damnedest not to be that guy. I have a family now. My actions set an example for my kids. I can't just go around doing anything I please anymore. That's something that “The Franchise” doesn't get. He has kids as well and he claims to love them. Yet he also claims to be a monster. He doesn't want to be the hero because heroes aren't real. He doesn't realize that he has the power to change that. He can be a hero to his kids. He can teach them by example, but no... He would rather claim to be evil. Who claims to be evil anyway? Even Hitler thought he was the good guy. Fucking moron!
Regardless, I plan on doing everything in my power to be a hero. Within the world of wrestling it will be a first for me. Back in the day I only had to be concerned with myself, now my actions also have an effect on my family. So I'll strive to do the right thing. I'll try my hardest to lead by example, and show my kids what a real man is all about. If in the process I end up inspiring, and becoming a hero to other children that will be cool too. This time I'm going to do things right, no shortcuts and no bullshit. “That IS bullshit” I look around, but once again I don't see any sign that anyone is talking to me. That's also when I realize that I'm not speaking aloud either. Who could reply to my thoughts? May...Maybe it's best if I call it a day. I can always hit my back muscles tomorrow....
I wipe down the machine and make my way into the locker room. As soon as I walk in there, I can't help but notice this teenage kid staring at me. I can tell that he recognizes me, and wants to talk, but I suppose he must be too shy to walk over. I can relate with that. I once saw The Road Warriors signing autographs in a Wal-Mart. I thought it was odd that they didn't have a line wrapped around the whole store, but the truth is they didn't have a line at all. When I was a kid, I loved the Road Warriors. Their look and intensity were amazing. Of course it didn't hurt that I loved the movie The Road Warrior either. Anyway, I never walked up to those guys. I was too scared that my heroes wouldn't be impressed with me. Silly isn't it? It's almost like I had this hero business backwards back then. I decide to approach this kid and say hi. As I walk towards him I notice that he starts to smile before bringing his eyes to the ground. Red alert, we've got a shy one!
“Hi'ya kid, how's it going?”
The kids looks up nervously. I can tell that he isn't making eye contact with me, but instead he's staring at my mouth. That's a trick shy people use to give the illusion that they are making eye contact. I know it all too well, like I said, I used to be that kid.
“Y.. You're Micheal Graves, right? You used to be one of my favorites, when I was little.”
That kind of hits me hard. Not that this kids liked me, that's cool. What hurts is me realizing in a instant that this kid is 17 or 18 years old. That means that he was somewhere around 6 to eight the last time that he could have seen me on TV. I nod to the kid, realized that I kind of froze up on him, but wouldn't you If you realized that you had been away from XWF long enough for a boy to become a man?
“What was your favorite match of mine?”
This kid is quick to answer. Almost like he knew that I would have this question lined up for him.
“You versus Max Payne in that school house fight!”
I'm taken aback by his answer. First of all that match took place before I made it big in XWF. Second of all, I question how this match could be his favorite, considering it happened over 15 years ago. This kid couldn't have been more than 3 years old at best."
“Why is that match your favorite?”
The kid very matter of factually replies.
“Because, that was the match where you first showed everyone your true potential. After that match everyone pegged you to be the next big thing.”
That's true, a lot of doors opened for me after that match.
“You were up against a guy that everyone thought was better than you, but you wanted it more that day. When you jumped off the roof of that school!”
I crack a smile and even let out a slight chuckle.
“Everyone loves that match because of the leap off of the building.”
The kids doesn't seem so shy now as he looks me directly in the eyes. I can tell that he doesn't agree with something that I said.
“No, it's not that spot that everyone loved. It was the reason that you did it. Everyone had you pegged to lose as soon as the card was announced, but you refused to accept that. When you hit that 450 splash, it was amazing. People viewed it as you saying fuck you to the system.”
I don't know about all of that, I was under valued, but I never realized that anyone though that I was making some sort of statement.
“When you came to the XWF... I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you seemed complacent. Every once in a while you'd light a fire under your ass, but mostly you came off lazy.”
The kids eyes grow wide. I think he realizes what he just said.
“I mean... I'm sorry I didn't mean to call you lazy, it's just how everyone felt at the time!”
I raise an eyebrow, slightly irritated, but more in disbelief of what this kid just said. It's not that I haven't heard it before, but did I really have a teenager, who was in diapers back then judging my every move? I try to hold back the anger in my voice.
“Where did you hear all this from kid?”
“I told you, you used to be one of my favorites. I've watched every RF Video that even mentioned you. I've read every article that I could find. They all say that you could have been ranked much higher on the card, had you actually put in a little more effort. Although I do thi ARUGHHH!?”
Who the fuck does this kid think he is? Like I'm going to stand here and listen to some snot nosed brat tell me that I didn't put enough effort into my career to satisfy him and all the other neck beard losers who make those pod cast and write for those dirt sheets. Who the fuck are they to weigh in on my career huh? They don't get into that ring and... and... "Oh my God, what am I doing!?" I release my grip from around the boys throat. He falls against the wall and slides down it slightly, coughing and holding his neck.
“I'm sorry kid, I don't know what got into me! Are you alright?”
I can hear a voice in the back of my mind nudging me to finish the job. No, I'll just ignore that.
“What's ::Cough:Cough:: What's wrong with you man?”
The kid pulls himself to his feet and runs out of the locker room. I have no idea if he is going to call the police or not, but it's probably best if I just get dressed and leave. Perhaps I should think about seeing a shrink? “Nah you're good.” Yeah, I'm probably OK.
Shifting views outside for a moment, we see a mans arm hanging out of an old faded yellow 1973 Oldsmobile Delta 88. He is holding a cigarette, and you notice about 20 or so cigarette butts laying on the pavement next to the car. It is parked across the street from the Gold's Gym that Micheal has been working out in for the past hour. Is this the same man that we saw listening to Micheal's radio broadcast the other day? If so what is his interest in Micheal Graves?
The following 1 user Likes "Dark Warrior" Micheal Graves's post:1 user Likes "Dark Warrior" Micheal Graves's post Tommy Gunn (11-28-2016)
![[-]](https://xwf99.com/images/portal2/collapse.gif)
The following 1 user Likes "Dark Warrior" Micheal Graves's post:![[Image: Graves%20Text.png]](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/cyborg2040/media/Graves%20Text.png.html)
