Post by Sam Sawyer on Feb 11, 2022 18:43:40 GMT -5
Jack: Alexa... turn off the lights...
It's seven in the morning and getting light outside. Good Morning America is coming on. Jack stares at the screen, not really listening. Wide awake, he sits upright, mind almost empty. Fleeting thoughts occasionally drift in and out, mainly "what's wrong with me?". He can't remember when he last slept.
It was probably the night before he last visited Sam's gym, whenever that was. But it could have been longer than that. Either way, the visit didn't help things. He was finding it harder to make promos for Sam: harder to remember who they are, or were; harder to tell the difference between what was made up and what was real. He went to the gym for inspiration. The closest he got was one guy who gave in and talked to him for a minute, probably to get rid of him. He told him that Sam had recently been defeated by one of them for the first time. He can't remember if the guy told him their name, but it probably didn't mean a thing to them, or Sam. He can't even remember if he saw Sam themself while he was there, face to face. If he did he must have blocked out the memory, but nevertheless their eyes are still burned into his brain.
. . .
Jack keeps watching TV, ignoring a knock at the door. The knocking resumes after a pause, then again. The noise soothes Jack but he doesn't think about getting up. An angrier knock follows. It repeats, and repeats, until curiosity finally gets the better of him. He gets up off the couch and walks out the room, noticing that it's almost noon. He opens the front door.
It's Sam's eyes.
Woman: ... Hi.
The color drains from Jack's face. The woman looks quizzically at him.
Woman: Jack?
Jack just stares at her.
Woman: Did I wake you?
Jack: ... No, no. Can I... help you?
Woman: Yes. I'm Sam's mom. Mercedes.
She offers Jack her hand. After a moment he shakes it.
Jack: You better come in.
Mercedes: Thank you.
He steps aside to let her in. His mind starting to wake up, he leads her into the living room and offers her a seat. She takes off her coat and folds it on her lap.
Mercedes: Are you feeling okay? You don't look well.
Jack: I'm fine.
She speaks with a strong Mexican accent. Jack tries to hide the tiredness in his voice as he turns off the TV. Mercedes gives him a kind, humble smile.
Jack: So... Sam...
Mercedes: Yes... Sam...
She says their name with an affectionate frown, her eyes bright. Her optimism saddens Jack a little.
Jack: You're Sam's birth mother aren't you?
Mercedes: Yes.
Jack: Yeah... I heard they were adopted. Have you... met Sam?
Mercedes: Today?
Jack: No... ever.
Mercedes is stunned for a moment, but her smile quickly returns.
Mercedes: Yes, of course. They didn't tell you about me?
Out of his element, Jack struggles to soften it for her.
Jack: They haven't told me anything. They don't really talk much.
She nods.
Jack: Did they... talk before? When they were younger?
She opens her mouth but stops herself.
Jack: Sorry, never mind. It's none of my business.
She smiles in relief.
Jack: I guess you want to know where Sam is. I'll give you the address, but-
Mercedes: No. I know where they are. I've tried to see them already.
Jack: You've been to the gym?!
The panic in his voice takes Mercedes aback.
Mercedes: Yes... I talked to one of the men there.
Jack: He didn't let you in?
Her smile starts to fade.
Mercedes: No. It was strange. I walked inside, and... he came to meet me. It was as if he knew I was coming. I kept telling him to let me through but he kept saying no. I think he would have... stopped me if I tried to go past him. I wasn't expecting Sam to talk to me, but I wanted to see them.
Jack: Yeah... of course.
Mercedes: I asked him if he could tell me about Sam... how they're doing... and he told me to talk to you.
Jack: Oh.
Mercedes looks expectantly at his panic-stricken face.
Mercedes: So what can you tell me?
Jack: Uh...
Mercedes: It's okay. Just tell me the truth.
Jack grinds his teeth, then finally sighs.
Jack: I'm sorry... I'm sorry, Mercedes. There's nothing to tell. You've seen Sam on TV haven't you?
Mercedes: Yes.
Jack: Well... it's worse than that.
She seems to understand what he means. She smiles, her eyes coming to a harsh realisation: harsh but expected.
Jack: I've tried everything to get them to talk. Or to at least... show something. I tried to get them to talk to their parents... but they didn't care. I'm sorry. And they're just getting worse.
Mercedes: They're just working hard. They love wrestling.
Jack doesn't look convinced.
Jack: Yeah, but... I don't know. I just hope... we don't lose them.
Mercedes: Maybe I could try talking to them. If you could just... help me get through.
Jack: I don't think that's a good idea. You might get hurt.
Mercedes: Sam wouldn't hurt me.
Jack: But it's not Sam. Sam's gone. And if they ever come back, you don't want them to have done something they'll never forgive themselves for. I'm not saying they'd definitely hurt you... but I would stay away. Believe me. Just leave them alone for now.
As Jack speaks, Mercedes shakes her head in polite disagreement. When he's finished, she doesn't answer for a while. Jack looks at her awkwardly. She looks back, smiling, unshaken and sure of herself.
Mercedes: Well... I should go.
She stands up, but before leaving looks Jack dead in the eye and leaves him with a strict instruction.
Mercedes: Tell Sam I called, please.
Jack: I will.
Mercedes: Tell them there's no pressure... but I'll be in town for a while. If they want to see me, let me know. Please.
Jack: Of course.
Mercedes: It was nice to meet you, Jack.
Jack: And you, Mercedes.
. . .
Jack runs over the promo in his head again, leaving Nick, the camera man, on his phone, waiting patiently. Exciting news: there's a change of location. Instead of the gym, or Jack's house, it's a mundane-looking room that was left free in The Hearth. Jack decided on it partly to make things easier for Nick, partly for his own dignity. He couldn't face the thought of looking as pathetic and worn out as he does in his own home. Making the effort to travel, as small as that is, might make up for it a little. Halfway through his current run-through, he gives up. It's driving him crazy. It'll probably be better to wing it.
Jack: Okay, Nick. Let's do this.
Nick: Cool. Just a sec.
Jack stands up and faces the camera, ragged and unapologetic.
Jack: Sam Sawyer fans. Welcome to another episode of "It's Not Much But He's All We've Got". My face is probably setting some alarm bells off, but don't worry, Sam's beyond this crap. They'll be ready. They're a machine, right? They're probably unconscious as soon as their head hits the pillow.
So... it's Sam's first championship match since they fought for the X*Crown. Only the second in their career. This time for the Wildfire Championship. Officially the lowest tier, but... no buts. If I'm going to be true to Sam, I'm not going to talk about prestige, the wrestler making the title, all that crap. All Sam cares about is what's official. Luckily, the lowest tier title is more than enough for Sam to drop some bodies.
Every match is must-win for Sam. Every wrestler would try to have you believe that, but c'mon. They always bring it more in title fights. They bring it like they're lucky to be there. Like it's their last chance. Well... yeah. It will be with that attitude. It will be if you put a limit on how hard you're willing to try. Every match, every moment, is an opportunity to advance. No matter how small the step, no matter how far away you are.
Few people, and I mean very few, have no limits. Pick someone from XHF out of hat. Pick a former world champion in any sport. Chances are, they'll have a limit. Even the gutsiest, grittiest workhorses wouldn't put their career ahead of their family. And for most people it won't even come to that. But...... Where am I? The point is... before I get to Johnny Five and Zolothach... the point is that if you're going to believe anything I say, believe this. Sam has no limit. Period. They might not have the talent, they sure don't have the experience, but one thing they do have is that they work every single second that God sends. If there's work to do, they're there. They want to reach the top, and beyond, and they won't stop for anything. They have no limit, and you can't take that away from them.
Epic punchline number nine. It sounds good, but the problem is most of FIRESIDE's roster's limits are so small you wouldn't even notice. Sam might be at the top of the workhorse list by a couple of hours, but it's too close to count for much. And there's so much more that goes into it. So what else does Sam have? I'll get to that. First, Johnny Five.
Based on recent results, and your own interview, most people probably have you down as the underdog. And when you add in your reputation as a lackey, a second, and your opponents' reputations as... I guess dangerous... it doesn't look good. To be honest, it isn't. As good as you looked against Caffrey, you lost. It's becoming a habit with you. And as rousing as your "nothing left to lose" speech was, we've heard it all before. Not that I didn't enjoy it, or that you didn't have me convinced for a minute, but we've all seen how that ends up. The guy with the chip on his shoulder, the fans behind him, the fire in his belly... failing. Close but no cigar.
I'm not saying you don't have a chance. I mean... you knocked Caffrey for a loop, with a legal move, and probably would have won if they didn't stop the match. Even from the opening bell, you were on fire. We were all watching you step out of Constantine's shadow, against a former X*Crown Champion. Shocked. We hadn't seen that from you before. But the question is... how did you end up in that shadow in the first place? Why did it take you so long to want to step out? Why was it Constantine that asked for the match and not you? Underdogs are usually underdogs for a reason. Underdogs are the ones that fuck things up for themselves, make their own mess, make themselves underdogs. Then they show up when some rogue inspiration bubbles up from somewhere and blow everyone's minds. For one night. The question is, if you win the Wildfire Championship, will you still have the same passion? I think everyone's got underdogs wrong. Underdogs aren't the ones with the passion, fighting talent. Underdogs are the ones with the talent, fighting passion. Or pure hard work. Which is why I'm sure Sam isn't taking you lightly.
Zolothach. If Johnny's the underdog... you're the favorite. I'm... a little afraid to say much more. No joke. Afraid and unqualified. Although I lumped you in with Sam before, you're really as different from Sam as you are from Johnny. And there's not really much to say. I'm sure Sam knows your weak points, as far as the technical side goes, but besides that I can't predict how they're going beat you, or if they're going to beat you. All I can say is: expect a fight. To quote AC/DC, because I'm lame like that, "if you want blood, you got it". I might not want to mess with you, but Sam sure as hell isn't me.
So... I was talking about Sam's work rate. How it won't be enough. What else are they bringing to the fight? You know what? I can't remember. Go watch my old promos. Or just watch the frigging match. I'm done here.
It's seven in the morning and getting light outside. Good Morning America is coming on. Jack stares at the screen, not really listening. Wide awake, he sits upright, mind almost empty. Fleeting thoughts occasionally drift in and out, mainly "what's wrong with me?". He can't remember when he last slept.
It was probably the night before he last visited Sam's gym, whenever that was. But it could have been longer than that. Either way, the visit didn't help things. He was finding it harder to make promos for Sam: harder to remember who they are, or were; harder to tell the difference between what was made up and what was real. He went to the gym for inspiration. The closest he got was one guy who gave in and talked to him for a minute, probably to get rid of him. He told him that Sam had recently been defeated by one of them for the first time. He can't remember if the guy told him their name, but it probably didn't mean a thing to them, or Sam. He can't even remember if he saw Sam themself while he was there, face to face. If he did he must have blocked out the memory, but nevertheless their eyes are still burned into his brain.
. . .
Jack keeps watching TV, ignoring a knock at the door. The knocking resumes after a pause, then again. The noise soothes Jack but he doesn't think about getting up. An angrier knock follows. It repeats, and repeats, until curiosity finally gets the better of him. He gets up off the couch and walks out the room, noticing that it's almost noon. He opens the front door.
It's Sam's eyes.
Woman: ... Hi.
The color drains from Jack's face. The woman looks quizzically at him.
Woman: Jack?
Jack just stares at her.
Woman: Did I wake you?
Jack: ... No, no. Can I... help you?
Woman: Yes. I'm Sam's mom. Mercedes.
She offers Jack her hand. After a moment he shakes it.
Jack: You better come in.
Mercedes: Thank you.
He steps aside to let her in. His mind starting to wake up, he leads her into the living room and offers her a seat. She takes off her coat and folds it on her lap.
Mercedes: Are you feeling okay? You don't look well.
Jack: I'm fine.
She speaks with a strong Mexican accent. Jack tries to hide the tiredness in his voice as he turns off the TV. Mercedes gives him a kind, humble smile.
Jack: So... Sam...
Mercedes: Yes... Sam...
She says their name with an affectionate frown, her eyes bright. Her optimism saddens Jack a little.
Jack: You're Sam's birth mother aren't you?
Mercedes: Yes.
Jack: Yeah... I heard they were adopted. Have you... met Sam?
Mercedes: Today?
Jack: No... ever.
Mercedes is stunned for a moment, but her smile quickly returns.
Mercedes: Yes, of course. They didn't tell you about me?
Out of his element, Jack struggles to soften it for her.
Jack: They haven't told me anything. They don't really talk much.
She nods.
Jack: Did they... talk before? When they were younger?
She opens her mouth but stops herself.
Jack: Sorry, never mind. It's none of my business.
She smiles in relief.
Jack: I guess you want to know where Sam is. I'll give you the address, but-
Mercedes: No. I know where they are. I've tried to see them already.
Jack: You've been to the gym?!
The panic in his voice takes Mercedes aback.
Mercedes: Yes... I talked to one of the men there.
Jack: He didn't let you in?
Her smile starts to fade.
Mercedes: No. It was strange. I walked inside, and... he came to meet me. It was as if he knew I was coming. I kept telling him to let me through but he kept saying no. I think he would have... stopped me if I tried to go past him. I wasn't expecting Sam to talk to me, but I wanted to see them.
Jack: Yeah... of course.
Mercedes: I asked him if he could tell me about Sam... how they're doing... and he told me to talk to you.
Jack: Oh.
Mercedes looks expectantly at his panic-stricken face.
Mercedes: So what can you tell me?
Jack: Uh...
Mercedes: It's okay. Just tell me the truth.
Jack grinds his teeth, then finally sighs.
Jack: I'm sorry... I'm sorry, Mercedes. There's nothing to tell. You've seen Sam on TV haven't you?
Mercedes: Yes.
Jack: Well... it's worse than that.
She seems to understand what he means. She smiles, her eyes coming to a harsh realisation: harsh but expected.
Jack: I've tried everything to get them to talk. Or to at least... show something. I tried to get them to talk to their parents... but they didn't care. I'm sorry. And they're just getting worse.
Mercedes: They're just working hard. They love wrestling.
Jack doesn't look convinced.
Jack: Yeah, but... I don't know. I just hope... we don't lose them.
Mercedes: Maybe I could try talking to them. If you could just... help me get through.
Jack: I don't think that's a good idea. You might get hurt.
Mercedes: Sam wouldn't hurt me.
Jack: But it's not Sam. Sam's gone. And if they ever come back, you don't want them to have done something they'll never forgive themselves for. I'm not saying they'd definitely hurt you... but I would stay away. Believe me. Just leave them alone for now.
As Jack speaks, Mercedes shakes her head in polite disagreement. When he's finished, she doesn't answer for a while. Jack looks at her awkwardly. She looks back, smiling, unshaken and sure of herself.
Mercedes: Well... I should go.
She stands up, but before leaving looks Jack dead in the eye and leaves him with a strict instruction.
Mercedes: Tell Sam I called, please.
Jack: I will.
Mercedes: Tell them there's no pressure... but I'll be in town for a while. If they want to see me, let me know. Please.
Jack: Of course.
Mercedes: It was nice to meet you, Jack.
Jack: And you, Mercedes.
. . .
Jack runs over the promo in his head again, leaving Nick, the camera man, on his phone, waiting patiently. Exciting news: there's a change of location. Instead of the gym, or Jack's house, it's a mundane-looking room that was left free in The Hearth. Jack decided on it partly to make things easier for Nick, partly for his own dignity. He couldn't face the thought of looking as pathetic and worn out as he does in his own home. Making the effort to travel, as small as that is, might make up for it a little. Halfway through his current run-through, he gives up. It's driving him crazy. It'll probably be better to wing it.
Jack: Okay, Nick. Let's do this.
Nick: Cool. Just a sec.
Jack stands up and faces the camera, ragged and unapologetic.
Jack: Sam Sawyer fans. Welcome to another episode of "It's Not Much But He's All We've Got". My face is probably setting some alarm bells off, but don't worry, Sam's beyond this crap. They'll be ready. They're a machine, right? They're probably unconscious as soon as their head hits the pillow.
So... it's Sam's first championship match since they fought for the X*Crown. Only the second in their career. This time for the Wildfire Championship. Officially the lowest tier, but... no buts. If I'm going to be true to Sam, I'm not going to talk about prestige, the wrestler making the title, all that crap. All Sam cares about is what's official. Luckily, the lowest tier title is more than enough for Sam to drop some bodies.
Every match is must-win for Sam. Every wrestler would try to have you believe that, but c'mon. They always bring it more in title fights. They bring it like they're lucky to be there. Like it's their last chance. Well... yeah. It will be with that attitude. It will be if you put a limit on how hard you're willing to try. Every match, every moment, is an opportunity to advance. No matter how small the step, no matter how far away you are.
Few people, and I mean very few, have no limits. Pick someone from XHF out of hat. Pick a former world champion in any sport. Chances are, they'll have a limit. Even the gutsiest, grittiest workhorses wouldn't put their career ahead of their family. And for most people it won't even come to that. But...... Where am I? The point is... before I get to Johnny Five and Zolothach... the point is that if you're going to believe anything I say, believe this. Sam has no limit. Period. They might not have the talent, they sure don't have the experience, but one thing they do have is that they work every single second that God sends. If there's work to do, they're there. They want to reach the top, and beyond, and they won't stop for anything. They have no limit, and you can't take that away from them.
Epic punchline number nine. It sounds good, but the problem is most of FIRESIDE's roster's limits are so small you wouldn't even notice. Sam might be at the top of the workhorse list by a couple of hours, but it's too close to count for much. And there's so much more that goes into it. So what else does Sam have? I'll get to that. First, Johnny Five.
Based on recent results, and your own interview, most people probably have you down as the underdog. And when you add in your reputation as a lackey, a second, and your opponents' reputations as... I guess dangerous... it doesn't look good. To be honest, it isn't. As good as you looked against Caffrey, you lost. It's becoming a habit with you. And as rousing as your "nothing left to lose" speech was, we've heard it all before. Not that I didn't enjoy it, or that you didn't have me convinced for a minute, but we've all seen how that ends up. The guy with the chip on his shoulder, the fans behind him, the fire in his belly... failing. Close but no cigar.
I'm not saying you don't have a chance. I mean... you knocked Caffrey for a loop, with a legal move, and probably would have won if they didn't stop the match. Even from the opening bell, you were on fire. We were all watching you step out of Constantine's shadow, against a former X*Crown Champion. Shocked. We hadn't seen that from you before. But the question is... how did you end up in that shadow in the first place? Why did it take you so long to want to step out? Why was it Constantine that asked for the match and not you? Underdogs are usually underdogs for a reason. Underdogs are the ones that fuck things up for themselves, make their own mess, make themselves underdogs. Then they show up when some rogue inspiration bubbles up from somewhere and blow everyone's minds. For one night. The question is, if you win the Wildfire Championship, will you still have the same passion? I think everyone's got underdogs wrong. Underdogs aren't the ones with the passion, fighting talent. Underdogs are the ones with the talent, fighting passion. Or pure hard work. Which is why I'm sure Sam isn't taking you lightly.
Zolothach. If Johnny's the underdog... you're the favorite. I'm... a little afraid to say much more. No joke. Afraid and unqualified. Although I lumped you in with Sam before, you're really as different from Sam as you are from Johnny. And there's not really much to say. I'm sure Sam knows your weak points, as far as the technical side goes, but besides that I can't predict how they're going beat you, or if they're going to beat you. All I can say is: expect a fight. To quote AC/DC, because I'm lame like that, "if you want blood, you got it". I might not want to mess with you, but Sam sure as hell isn't me.
So... I was talking about Sam's work rate. How it won't be enough. What else are they bringing to the fight? You know what? I can't remember. Go watch my old promos. Or just watch the frigging match. I'm done here.