Post by Deleted on Jul 12, 2017 23:52:14 GMT -6
BACKSTAGE AT THE MICHIGAN STADIUM
ANN ARBOR, MI
AN HOUR AFTER THE TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
ANN ARBOR, MI
AN HOUR AFTER THE TELEVISION CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
Time, and what it does to a man. How’s that for irony? The closing moments of tonight’s triple threat match played in the cluttered mind of Harvey Yorke like clockwork: one second cost him his undefeated streak and his Television Championship. Harvey was no stranger to defeat, that’s for sure - go ahead and look at his work in other promotions to verify. He didn’t exactly admit it, but this loss ate away at him.
His head, hell, his entire body felt numb. He sat in the center of his locker room, for the world to see what a failure truly looked like: tape wrapped around the side of his head like a poor man’s undead mummy and still wearing his ring gear bearing any and all wounds inflicted during his match. But he didn’t care how he looked like or how he felt - he held a promise to the world, and he couldn’t deliver. To top it all off, he was alone. Xander was out attending phone calls as per usual, and Toni was preparing for her title match. Sure, it’s one thing to lose a title, he thought, but if Toni won the United States title, who would truly be the weak link? Self-doubt had inflicted far more damage than anything Valora Thomas or Chase Rex could unleash.
“H?” He was interrupted by an all too familiar voice. Still, it wasn’t enough to garner his attention. From the corner of his eye, a man stood in the doorway, one who witnessed the fall first-hand: Xander. What good is it to have a manager if he isn’t willing to help you win, anyway?, the thoughts began again. He had avoided Xander for the time being - as Harvey believed that there was no need to have his friend around in the middle of his 'training’ for his match. As his manager approached, he felt his blood boil in his veins.
“Harvey,” Xander said as he noticed every scar, bruise, cut, and welt on Harvey’s body. “I get that you’re still upset over what happened, and I’m sorry. I should’ve been there when you needed it. Technically, you didn’t even lose—”
“It’s fine, I’m fine.” Harvey cut him off. His eyes wandered from the floor and the half-finished bottle of whiskey near him, to the lockers - that seemed to be in far better condition than he was at the current moment - and finally glared back at his manager. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“For fucks sake Harvey, you’re my client!” It was rare for Xander to actually raise his voice at Harvey, but this time, it seemed appropriate to do so. Though, it wasn’t exactly in a scolding manner: he only wanted his true client - the one cleverly hidden under all the not-so suppressed emotions and whiskey - to listen to him for once. “I mean, do you really expect me to believe you won’t do something ridiculous after what just happened out there?” Xander caught his client mid-sip before snatching the bottle away. “I’m sorry, Harvey. I really am. But you know, I’m the only one you’ve got right now stopping you from blacking out from all the booze or otherwise attacking someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
“I was robbed, Xander,” Harvey said defensively. “Months of hard work and preparation, all gone to that...that—”
“Which is why I told Michael Saint to give you the next show off.” Xander interrupted.
“Great!” He hiccuped. “I suppose I ought to fuck right on off so that way someone else can run their mouth and think that they can replace me. I don’t know how well-versed you are with this business, but like you just saw, anything can happen.” He snaps his fingers, or at least, he tried to. “And just like that, anyone can take my place.”
“Harvey,” Xander said with a sigh, “you’re being paranoid. You’re telling me that after nearly downing an entire bottle of whiskey, you think you’re being replaced? Shit like that doesn’t happen overnight.” He sat down next to Harvey. “You’re only taking the night off for the safety of the others on Rampage. That’s exactly what I told Saint. I may be your manager, but I’m also in charge of keeping your morality in check. Can’t imagine what the network would say if you intentionally killed someone out of frustration.”
Harvey shook his head. He couldn’t believe it: either Xander was a mind reader, or his emotions were laid out on the proverbial table ready for everyone to see. And in either case, Harvey wasn’t going to allow anyone - not even his manager - entry to his mind. Not like this. A half-snicker, half-senseless babble escaped Harvey’s mouth before he continued.
“I’m not frustrated, Xander,” Harvey hissed back. His manager was lucky that he had possession of the whiskey bottle, otherwise it wouldn’t end well for him. Instead, Harvey let his blood burn his veins for a while. Silence had filled the room once more. Xander stood back up, deciding it was best to leave his client to either cool down or black out. He set the whiskey beside his client, and strolled back towards the door.
“Maybe,” Xander stopped in his tracks, looking back at Harvey, whose attention was focused on the bottle. “I’m just not drunk enough.” Harvey said, whilst unscrewing the cap. After taking another bitter gulp, he continued. “Maybe, just maybe, I have a lot of shit on my mind that I have yet to sort out. You’ve been plenty of help Xander, you really have. But this is something I wish to handle on my own. Alright? I was robbed of what was rightfully mine. And unless I’ve been mistaken, you didn’t take care of Valora or Chase when I was knocked down. You stood there, and you let Valora walk away with my Television title. Now you’re telling me I earn a night off for my troubles? What a real work you are, mate. I won’t allow you to stop me from fighting my battles, even if it’s what’s best for my sanity.” He belched. “Why don’t you...why don’t you do something useful for once and get lost?”
Xander could only muster a slight nod in response. “Fine.” And with that, he walked out of the locker room for the final time that night. Though, Harvey half-wished that he didn’t. He wasn’t alone, as the familiar silence accompanied him once more. It was there that he realized that Xander had been right all along: he was exposed and he wore his heart on his sleeve for everyone to see. He downed the rest of the liquor, and in one swift motion, he smashed the bottle down to the ground.
“I’m sorry.” Harvey mumbled softly, a single tear escaping from his eye. The silence had been replaced with muffled sounds of cheers from the arena. It took him a while, but Harvey managed to stand. He let out a breath of exhaustion, being careful not to let any more of his current emotions escape him. He stumbled around the room aimlessly, before eventually falling down for the final time that night into a bed of shattered glass and dreams alike. “Fuck.” he managed to breathe out. And before he knew it, Harvey finally blacked out.
SANGUINE NIGHTCLUB
LAS VEGAS, NV
A WEEK LATER
LAS VEGAS, NV
A WEEK LATER
To say that Harvey had been ignoring Xander and vice versa would be an understatement. For days, Harvey let messages unanswered and calls that lead straight to voicemail. No one had seen or heard about him following his little outburst with his manager, and he intended to keep it that way. Perhaps he was overcompensating by retreating to the Krays' Sanguine, but hell, Toni wasn't expected to show up, and Xander was halfway across the country. Besides, part of him told him that he was actually wanted here, even despite his fall from grace.
He wandered aimlessly around the dance floor, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the regular freaks that frequented the joint. Finally, a crash landing into a bar that was just a few feet away from the noisy crowd. With a bit of hesitation, he ordered the usual: a bottle of lager.
“A little too early to be drinking, don’t you think?” Questioned an unfamiliar voice. Harvey downed a good portion of the bottle before slamming it down on the counter. A huff, and he turned to his side.
“Piss off lad,” Harvey hissed back. “before I off you in front of all these people, I’m sure they wouldn’t miss you.”
“Hey, no need to be hostile,” the voice replied. He eyed Harvey head to toe, noting the state he’s currently in. “Aren’t you Harvey Yorke? Man,” he scoffed, “you’ve really gone off the deep end. I mean look at you, you look like you’ve barely been able to hold yourself together after losing—”
In one swift motion, Harvey shattered the bottle against the edge of the counter and pointed the broken end at the stranger’s neck. “Listen, a lecture is the last thing I need right now. You wanna tell me how to do my job? It’ll only cost your life. So test me, find out for yourself what happens.”
“What’s the matter, did your boyfriend Xander dump you?” Harvey’s grip tightened, a snarl present on his face. The stranger snapped his fingers, then snickered. “Oh, I see it now. You dumped him.”
Harvey goes to slice the stranger’s throat, but it was quickly countered as his hand was caught, causing the remains of the bottle to shatter on the ground. The two exchanged blows, with Harvey quickly gaining the upper hand. He slammed the stranger’s head onto the counter, making sure a few glass shards stuck onto his skin. In between a few short breaths, he wiped the blood that began to drip from his lips - nothing like breaking in your new leather jacket than by getting a few blood stains on it. “No!” Harvey shouted, and with that, he caught the attention of the whole club.
Not even a few moments later, Ricki Kray emerged from a door labelled 'Staff Only,' a subtle look of shock on his face present as he locked eyes with his client’s tag team partner.
“Don’t expect me to apologize,” Harvey spat out at Ricki. He took a stack of dollar bills from his pocket, slamming them on the counter behind him. “One-thousand bucks says he had a little too much to drink. I was never here.”
“Harvey,” Ricki called out. There was a moment of silence as the two exchanged looks. Finally, Harvey spoke out.
“Save it for another day. I know I can’t please everyone.” He turned towards the door with a loud sigh. “You were wrong about me Mr. Kray. I’m not as clear-headed as you’d like to believe.”
With that, he left the unforgiving atmosphere of Sanguine. Sure, the bright, hot Vegas sun was enough to burn someone alive, but this time, Harvey couldn’t give less of a shit. If he was going to rot, he may as well do it in style.
. F I N .