Post by RS on Oct 19, 2019 4:28:41 GMT -5
ARCH STANTON RIDES AGAIN!
A phone call came to GCW headquarters.
A company attempting to re-emerge, looking to fashion a singular reputation in a Wrestling hotbed. They could get a veteran name, a star in many key markets. A known badass to Atlanta fans, a tough competitor who has done it all. Someone with influence and something to offer anywhere on the card. They caller said he was available for little more than travel expenses.
What’s in it for Arch Stanton?
It was a strange few years. He had been wandering, much like he had for most of his career. However, for five years, Arch had a home in UWL. He found a promotion he got along with, that had momentum and meaning. It was quite the battlefield for the man, and quite a stand was made there.
After twenty-five years in the business, Arch Stanton was a “Top 5” star in an expanding promotion. He had titles, shots, high-profile feuds, and he had achieved victories of his own in Anholt. He was high on the hog before being sidelined with his first major career injury. When he returned, he looked several years older and many pounds heavier. He was slower, meaner, even more readily unhinged than before.
He was still a formidable opponent and top name for most of the company’s final year. The company had been focusing on national expansion from their roots in Knoxville. They were bringing big bouts to major cities throughout the US and Canada. They had been making annual treks to Japan and Europe. Arch Stanton enjoyed a greater notoriety than he’d ever had, thanks to this exposure/experience.
When they folded, Arch hit the road and returned to wandering. Depending on the market, Arch found himself in big main events against old rivals or in opening bouts or battles royals with nobodies. His finances have been balanced, even after his wild spending on the Anholt restorations and ‘related’ expenses. He did not need to fight for his food, but he still had to fight to survive.
Still making extensive trips alone in his Hot Rod Ford, Arch snaked his way through the country taking all manner of bookings. His notoriety remains high in certain areas and allowed him to engage in meaningful battles. A major grudge match against an old tag-partner sent Arch to the hospital for injuries to his shoulder. He has fully recovered, but is itching badly for an in-ring return.
With so many of his contacts closing shop in recent months, Arch was elated to find out about GCW in Atlanta. He had been in the city many times with UWL and the people would remember him. He would have at least a little something to build on. However, the first booking can’t come fast enough.
Arch paces the floor with a steady vibration that could almost appear merely restless. A closer look reveals a few clues that suggest a more intense reality beneath his brow. His jaw gritted, hands clenching, his left eye twitching every few moments. Stanton is a hungry panther, watching the calendar like it’s a rare steak.
He takes a few steps across the thick boards in front of the Anholt Saloon. He had made this town what it was meant to be, and attracted business without compromising its integrity. He was a savior to some and a tyrant to others. He presence is usually treated with reverence, and the people know to steer clear on a day like this.
The sun still shines across the Texas desert, peeking brilliantly over the roofs in town. Twangy guitars ooze out of the jukebox and slither softly through the open windows. Arch, wearing a mostly unbuttoned black shirt under his leather vest, trods his heavy boots along the length of the building and back again. His hair is slicked back and his sideburns full. Arch Stanton is ready and tired of waiting.
He suddenly turns and takes a full swing at the camera, braying a bit as the crewman pulls back just in time.
AS:
Damn, son! It’s been too long already, fella – an’ ol’ Arch Stanton is rearin’ to go. I may be ashamed to admit it, but I’m countin’ the hours. I got new tights, new tape, an’ new laces for my boots. I got my bags packed an’ I already called a Motel in Atlanta. I got it all arranged, daddy – an’ now I’m walkin’ the floor an’ waitin’. I’m a tiger in my cage, manny. I got a hair trigger.
Arch cracks his neck with a grimace and holds his hands out with a shrug.
AS:
Now what is it that’s so damn special? It ain’t Christmas Eve already, baby! It’s the end of bummin’ around town here. It’s the start of some regular trips to Atlanta. Time to take another STAND!
He cracks his knuckles repeatedly while he watches the slowly setting sun duck halfway behind the old mission church. His eyes narrow.
AS:
Hell, it ain’t no thang. I’m excited to get involved with the G-C-Dubya, but it ain’t no headline news. It’s no major signing an’ it’s no record contract. My opponent is no old foe – this is no Grudge Match. See, thems the details only. The specifics. I ain’t drivin’ over from West Texas jus’ fer that, Bubbah. No, not no more…
Arch stiffens up, standing straight and turning back to the camera, continuing his stride.
AS:
No, pal – I ain’t ignorin’ the work ahead a’ me, but G-C-Dubya, this kid Havoc? A catalyst, baby. A canvas. That place is gonna be a shootin’ range, ‘cause I got guns to fire. Havoc’s the target, but he ain’t got much to do with the ammunition. See, I’ve made a comfortable place fer myself around here. I could retire from the road an’ never fight again. But it ain’t about money fer me an’ it ain’t about status. I never fought to be rich or famous. I fought to survive – an’ I still do today.
It use-ta be I needed to fight to make my name. To make my bed. To get gas in my car an’ some burgers in my belly. Now I have them things, as much as I want. It won’t keep me. I was forced to spend a year out of the ring an’ it almost killed me. No more, daddy. No more.
Now I fight ‘cause I need to. It’s who I am. It’s what I am. No man can walk this path. No woman can ever understand. I fight ‘cause I have to. I fight to survive.
He cocks his head and holds up one hand, as if taking an oath.
AS:
An’ since this is a matter of survival, I ain’t shakin’ no hands ‘till after the match. Havoc – I seen what you had to say. I read what’s been released about you. Yer on yer way up an’ I say more power to-ya. I’m sure you got a bright future in this business, but this is gonna be one-a them dark nights you’ll remember fer a while.
It’s a big night fer both of us. We’re at different parts of our careers, but we’re new boys here in G-C-Dubya. This bout is gonna show the fans an’ the office what we’re, each of us, about. You’ll get a second chance an’ maybe make good on it – but, fella, I’m gonna nail it right away. I’m gonna make my presence known, an’ I’m gonna do it right the first time. It’ll be loud an’ clear, like a goddamn cannon.
Arch grins, but it is less than friendly. He points to the camera and rests his hands on his hips.
AS:
Shit, son – you could be lookin’ through a crystal ball for a bit there. You will fall to a bigger, more experienced wrestler when we meet in Atlanta. But it ain’t jus’ ‘cause I’m bigger. It ain’t jus’ ‘cause when you was a baby watchin’ Barney viddiyas, I was in the trenches, knee-deep in blood, sweat, an’ tears. That’s just the mountain yer up against, an’ any mountain can be climbed. You was right about that, too.
He turns and begins his slow and steady stride across the boards with a lecturing tone.
AS:
Now look, fella – I’m up against a mountain here, myself. I got my climbin’ shoes on. I’m lookin’ across the ring at a younger, faster man. A modern engine with fewer miles. Don’t think that ain’t steep fer ol’ Arch Stanton.
You don’t need some special esoteric trick to know what 30 years on the road does to a man. His mind. His back. Hisknees. It ain’t chakras, baby. You don’t need no crystal ball. You don’t need X-Ray Glasses to hear that shit crackin’ and creakin’ every time I get outta bed. I don’t know what’s on TV. I don’t know what’s on the radio. I ain’t been on Facebook, an’ I don’t folla no Pokemons. I don’t have a clue what the kids are into, and I don’t give a good Goddamn.
No, an old man has his own mountains to climb in this sport – before he even sizes up an opponent...
Arch spins on his heels and slaps the railing with a shout. A nearby dog yelps and runs to the other side of the street. Arch shakes his head and smacks the railing again, cracking the wood. He laughs boisterously and shakes his head again, his eyes glimmering as he winds himself up.
AS:
But this ain’t a triathlon. This ain’t viddiya-games. This is MONDAY NIGHT in Atlanta, baby – an’ ol’ Arch Stanton is still his same ol’ self. THAT is a dangerous fact for you, daddy. THAT is the thing that’s gonna have you slippin’ down that cliff, right back down to the bottom a’ the mountain.
Older an’ even wiser – but you better piss yer pants when you realize that The Man is his same ol’ self.
Arch jabs his thumb into his chest and puffs up. He cocks his head and sneers, nodding with conviction.
AS:
THAT is the balance shifted for us, son – an’ it’s shiftin’ my way. I’m strong, but yer fast. I’m experienced, yer a young athlete. But you can’t counter against bein’ THE BADDEST SUNUVABITCH ALIVE, fella – an’ I ain’t dead yet!
The veins in his neck and forehead show clearly, pulsating quickly while his eyes glaze over a bit.
AS:
I ran fast an’ hard on a loooong road, daddy – thirty years a’ BIG FIGHTS an’ SHOWDOWNS is what led me to Atlanta, man. I’ve been a star. Main Event, daddy – an’ I been a nobody, too! I’ve sent men to the hospital, ended careers. I’ve had to be carried from the ring, had my shit ruined. I’ve been stiffed on payoffs at state fairs, an’ I been rich beyond my wildest dreams. I’ve been tough and had things my way. I’ve been the one under the lash. Broken hearts. Telephone calls. I got all the years, all the miles, all the injuries, all the broken bones – all that an’ more, fella…
Arch balls up his fist and raises it before him.
AS:
THAT’s what’s behind this punch, boy. That’s what I’m carryin’ into this match. It’s not about provin’ nothin’ to nobody, see? I don’t need to prove it to myself, so I don’t need to prove it to nobody else. It’s not about gettin’ old. It’s not about givin’ a rookie a hard time.
It’s about PRESSURE, baby! It ain’t no question a’ pride. It’s about risin’ up to a higher state. It’s about what happens when you see the sunset, but you ain’t there yet. One more good run? Two more good runs? Daddy, I’ll never stop as long as I can climb through the ropes. This ain’t about provin’ nothin’ to nobody. This is about PRESSURE.
I can’t sit home in Anholt. I got to blow the whistle. I got to fire the gun…
He raises his fist again and addresses the camera.
AS:
Havoc – it’s no personal beef with ya. Yer gonna learn a lot, but it’s no teachin’ session fer me. Yer gonna mark this day in yer diary, ‘cause I got the ammunition, see? I got the powder an’ the ball. I got a target to hit an’ a reason to pull the trigger. You better believe it, baby – this gun is LOADED.
Arch rears back his fist and keeps it cocked while he looks around, wild-eyed.
AS:
The hammer is back n’ ready. All I hafta do is pull the trigger, daddy – an’ on MONDAY NIGHT, the barrel’s gonna be pointin’ straight at you!