Just Dance (OH RP)
Jul 9, 2023 16:34:45 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, bloodiedfox, and 1 more like this
Post by Sam Sawyer on Jul 9, 2023 16:34:45 GMT -5
Sam wipes the sweat from their brow with the back of their hand. As Riley drives them to their eight o'clock show, they enjoy the ride, not really feeling the heat. The streets and parks are still bright as if afternoon, those out walking mostly half-dressed. Sam takes an occasional look at Riley, sensing a frustration or fatigue beneath his calm expression.
Their phone pings.
Riley: Is that your mom again?
Sam: Yeah.
Their attention taken up by the phone, Riley drives in silence. He keeps glancing over to see them keep on typing. A few pings later he rolls his eyes.
Riley: Are you telling her about me?
Sam looks up to see him smiling. They grin.
Sam: Yeah.
He leaves them to it. Five minutes later they're still texting and his smile has long faded.
Riley: This heat is awful...
Sam: Yeah... it is a bit...
Riley: I hope they have ice cream.
Sam: Hope so.
Riley's eyes turn to Sam, still texting, then back to the road.
Riley: Still have to get up early tomorrow?
Sam: Yeah...
Riley: Rats.
After a few more minutes of texting, Riley speaks up as he slows at a red light.
Riley: Sam.
Sam looks up, brought to attention by his tone.
Sam: Uh huh?
Riley: I was just thinking... you know after the X*Crown is over?
Sam: Yeah?
Riley: Maybe we could... do something.
Sam: I don't know... maybe...
Riley: Maybe?
Sam looks at him but his eyes are on the road. They start trying to finish their conversation with their mom as quickly as they can.
When they do, they chat with Riley the rest of the way. Neither acknowledge the awkward moment earlier, until Riley parks the car.
Sam: Riley... I wish it wasn't like this. You know that?
His face falters.
Sam: There's so much I want to do... if we had the time. I... I like you.
Riley: I know.
Sam: If I lose to Esmeralda, or at Night of Champions... we'll definitely do something.
Riley: Sam... don't listen to me.
He speaks in a low voice, guilty and not very convincing.
Riley: If you want to train... train. You do you. Just keep buying me stupid gifts.
They both grin.
Riley: And sending cringey texts.
. . .
Sam smiles at us, standing by a row of exercise bikes.
“Hi. This is... where I'm training today.”
The camera pans over the gym, revealing it to be mostly empty. A few people are quietly working out.
“So... uh... I made it to Overheated.”
Their smile fades a little.
“Honestly, I was a little shocked at first. It took a few days to... appreciate it. I haven't won a match for four months. I didn't know if I really belonged there.”
They frown apologetically.
“The chance to main event Night of Champions is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I didn't want to let Tap Out down. I didn't want them to... realize they made the wrong choice. I kind of... panicked a little.”
They sigh but keep a strong stare on the camera.
“Before Tap Out 14 I was trying out different ways to train, trying to figure out the best way to improve. Should I do what I was doing in Philly with my friends? Or keep touring and fighting different people? What should I focus on and things like that. And then I found out about Overheated, and knew I had three weeks to figure it out. I couldn't just experiment, or play the long game, I had to know now.”
They pause, then give a faint smile of reassurance.
“Now I do know. Maybe when I started touring last month I was right, that I was missing something. But maybe I'm not, and even if I am, maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe I don't need it. Either way I'm not going to go looking for it. Not now. I just need to... use what I've got. Be at my best... and use what I've got.”
They smile, encouraging us with a glow in their eyes.
“Maybe... it will be enough.”
They take a breath, their expression growing more serious.
“Esmeralda, thank you for your kind words. I'm flattered you think I might be the Tap Out Openweight Champion one day. I think I might be too, but it means a lot coming from someone like you.
I've known about you for quite a while. I watched you win the REIGN Championship last year, and I've heard a lot of stories about you. I never really thought about what would happen if we met. It's honestly a little scary to think you'll do... anything... to win. When you say you're going to beat me, and win the X*Crown... a little part of me believes you.”
Despite the modesty their expression is unchanged.
“It won't be easy for you though. I'm not sure if you seriously expect me to just lay down, but... I won't... 'cause Tap Out are relying on me... and I want the X*Crown too.
I look forward to our match, Esmeralda. Good luck. And... everyone at Tap Out, and the fans...”
They smile.
“Thank you.”
. . .
With the warm up done, Sam sits watching the show on the locker room monitor, tuning out all the chat. Their match is up next. It's with Zachary Banks, a wrestler well-known in the northeast indies with dozens of championships to his name. He'd probably be a bigger name if he didn't fight so dangerously. Sam seeked him out precisely because of his reputation.
Sam hasn't lost a match since Tap Out 14 two weeks ago, and hasn't been pinned or submitted for even longer. Almost every night they've been wrestling the toughest opponents they could find, their spot at Overheated affording them better opportunities than last month. Von Krauss isn't a normal wrestler, or even a normal human being, and her matches can be wildly brutal. Sam wants to make sure they're as prepared as possible. But they're not overthinking it like they were before. They're not worrying if they've got what it takes or trying to change up their game. And as much as it may help against von Krauss, they're definitely not thinking about the darkness. They've just been doing what's worked for them in the past: research and train, then perform. The theme for last year's Overheated was “Disco Heaven.” For Sam, this year it's “Just Dance.”
They walk onto the stage as a fuzzy version of “Physical” blares throughout the small arena. The thousand or so fans give a huge pop. They slap their hands on the way to the ring with a small smile. Inside, they wait for their opponent, heart beating a little fast but mostly calm. When Banks' music hits, a bluesy metal song, the crowd start booing ferociously. Sam can't help their nerves spike a little as Banks walks towards them, his face stony and uncaring. He gets in the ring and into his corner, his expression giving nothing away as he stares at Sam. Nevertheless Sam can sense a ruthless determination in him.
When the bell rings they start closing the gap. Sam can see him about to swing a forearm so they quickly cut him off with one of their own. Banks eats it up then hits back. Sam is stunned by his strength and their head flares with pain. They fire another forearm, this time Banks steps back. They hit a roundhouse to his waist, then two more in quick succession. Banks buckles after each one, almost crumpling after the third and quickly scoots through the ropes.
He has a look of mild frustration that quickly fades. He stares at Sam, seeming to dare them to leave the ring. Sam stays put while the referee begins counting. Banks starts circling the ring and at three jumps onto the apron and tries to climb through. Sam hits a stiff roundhouse on his shoulder while he's in the ropes, then after he gets a solid base goes for another but he makes a sudden lunge for their other leg to take them down with a sort of chop block. The two hundred pounder quickly gets some space then runs and hits a senton to Sam's back. He rolls them over and covers for a two count.
Sam sees him make a grab for their right arm as they start to get up. They quickly tuck it into their chest, so Banks instead boots the side of their face. As they stagger, stunned, Banks grabs their waist and hits a German suplex, not releasing until their upper back thuds on the mat. Sam rolls onto their front and protects their right arm. Banks delivers kick after kick to their right shoulder, then tears their arm out from under them and locks in a Fujiwara armbar.
Sam starts crawling to the ropes, making good progress, but Banks soon lets go and lifts them to their feet. Sam hits a huge slap for a “Get Fucked!” Banks is surprisingly resilient and slaps Sam harder, his face cold but the slap dripping with rage. He follows with a brutal forearm, then another. Sam fights off the mounting dizziness, keeping their senses but knows they're being overpowered. Banks puts them in a half nelson, hooks their leg and flips them up into a driver almost crushing their neck. He hoists them straight back up, gets them in a fisherman hold and lifts them in the air. Sam swings their free leg wildly, desperate to avoid the Ki Krusher, and lands back on the mat.
Sam hits another Get Fucked, rocking Banks, then drops him with a Saito suplex. When he sits up they go for a basement dropkick but he falls back down and they sail over. They both get to their feet at the same time. Sam bats away his incoming fist and goes for the STO. Banks elbows out and cracks their face with a stiff elbow smash. He runs to the ropes and comes back with a rolling Bull Hammer. Sam ducks, waits on him turning round, then throws the lariat. Banks catches their arm and hits a jumping double knee armbreaker. Sam rolls out to the apron avoiding Banks' grasp.
Ignoring the pain in their arm they climb the top turnbuckle, boot Banks away when he rushes in, then jump right over him. Sam keeps going, running to the ropes, then comes back with the lariat. It's far from full strength but knocks Banks down. They cover for a two count. He immediately starts rising to his feet but has a dazed look in his eyes. Sam hits a full force roundhouse kick to the waist, then a second to drop him to his knees. They follow with a buzzsaw kick, then push him onto his back before he has a chance to fall by himself. They run to the corner, climb the top rope, and leap off with the Sawyersault. It lands perfectly, but instead of covering they get up and quickly go back up top. They hit another Sawyersault, then hook the leg. The referee counts the three.
After the referee lets their hand go, Sam glances down at Banks. He's still not moving. They wonder if he'll be okay, but decide it'd probably be better not to stick around to chat. They hope their arm will be better for tomorrow night.
Their phone pings.
Riley: Is that your mom again?
Sam: Yeah.
Their attention taken up by the phone, Riley drives in silence. He keeps glancing over to see them keep on typing. A few pings later he rolls his eyes.
Riley: Are you telling her about me?
Sam looks up to see him smiling. They grin.
Sam: Yeah.
He leaves them to it. Five minutes later they're still texting and his smile has long faded.
Riley: This heat is awful...
Sam: Yeah... it is a bit...
Riley: I hope they have ice cream.
Sam: Hope so.
Riley's eyes turn to Sam, still texting, then back to the road.
Riley: Still have to get up early tomorrow?
Sam: Yeah...
Riley: Rats.
After a few more minutes of texting, Riley speaks up as he slows at a red light.
Riley: Sam.
Sam looks up, brought to attention by his tone.
Sam: Uh huh?
Riley: I was just thinking... you know after the X*Crown is over?
Sam: Yeah?
Riley: Maybe we could... do something.
Sam: I don't know... maybe...
Riley: Maybe?
Sam looks at him but his eyes are on the road. They start trying to finish their conversation with their mom as quickly as they can.
When they do, they chat with Riley the rest of the way. Neither acknowledge the awkward moment earlier, until Riley parks the car.
Sam: Riley... I wish it wasn't like this. You know that?
His face falters.
Sam: There's so much I want to do... if we had the time. I... I like you.
Riley: I know.
Sam: If I lose to Esmeralda, or at Night of Champions... we'll definitely do something.
Riley: Sam... don't listen to me.
He speaks in a low voice, guilty and not very convincing.
Riley: If you want to train... train. You do you. Just keep buying me stupid gifts.
They both grin.
Riley: And sending cringey texts.
. . .
Sam smiles at us, standing by a row of exercise bikes.
“Hi. This is... where I'm training today.”
The camera pans over the gym, revealing it to be mostly empty. A few people are quietly working out.
“So... uh... I made it to Overheated.”
Their smile fades a little.
“Honestly, I was a little shocked at first. It took a few days to... appreciate it. I haven't won a match for four months. I didn't know if I really belonged there.”
They frown apologetically.
“The chance to main event Night of Champions is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I didn't want to let Tap Out down. I didn't want them to... realize they made the wrong choice. I kind of... panicked a little.”
They sigh but keep a strong stare on the camera.
“Before Tap Out 14 I was trying out different ways to train, trying to figure out the best way to improve. Should I do what I was doing in Philly with my friends? Or keep touring and fighting different people? What should I focus on and things like that. And then I found out about Overheated, and knew I had three weeks to figure it out. I couldn't just experiment, or play the long game, I had to know now.”
They pause, then give a faint smile of reassurance.
“Now I do know. Maybe when I started touring last month I was right, that I was missing something. But maybe I'm not, and even if I am, maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe I don't need it. Either way I'm not going to go looking for it. Not now. I just need to... use what I've got. Be at my best... and use what I've got.”
They smile, encouraging us with a glow in their eyes.
“Maybe... it will be enough.”
They take a breath, their expression growing more serious.
“Esmeralda, thank you for your kind words. I'm flattered you think I might be the Tap Out Openweight Champion one day. I think I might be too, but it means a lot coming from someone like you.
I've known about you for quite a while. I watched you win the REIGN Championship last year, and I've heard a lot of stories about you. I never really thought about what would happen if we met. It's honestly a little scary to think you'll do... anything... to win. When you say you're going to beat me, and win the X*Crown... a little part of me believes you.”
Despite the modesty their expression is unchanged.
“It won't be easy for you though. I'm not sure if you seriously expect me to just lay down, but... I won't... 'cause Tap Out are relying on me... and I want the X*Crown too.
I look forward to our match, Esmeralda. Good luck. And... everyone at Tap Out, and the fans...”
They smile.
“Thank you.”
. . .
With the warm up done, Sam sits watching the show on the locker room monitor, tuning out all the chat. Their match is up next. It's with Zachary Banks, a wrestler well-known in the northeast indies with dozens of championships to his name. He'd probably be a bigger name if he didn't fight so dangerously. Sam seeked him out precisely because of his reputation.
Sam hasn't lost a match since Tap Out 14 two weeks ago, and hasn't been pinned or submitted for even longer. Almost every night they've been wrestling the toughest opponents they could find, their spot at Overheated affording them better opportunities than last month. Von Krauss isn't a normal wrestler, or even a normal human being, and her matches can be wildly brutal. Sam wants to make sure they're as prepared as possible. But they're not overthinking it like they were before. They're not worrying if they've got what it takes or trying to change up their game. And as much as it may help against von Krauss, they're definitely not thinking about the darkness. They've just been doing what's worked for them in the past: research and train, then perform. The theme for last year's Overheated was “Disco Heaven.” For Sam, this year it's “Just Dance.”
They walk onto the stage as a fuzzy version of “Physical” blares throughout the small arena. The thousand or so fans give a huge pop. They slap their hands on the way to the ring with a small smile. Inside, they wait for their opponent, heart beating a little fast but mostly calm. When Banks' music hits, a bluesy metal song, the crowd start booing ferociously. Sam can't help their nerves spike a little as Banks walks towards them, his face stony and uncaring. He gets in the ring and into his corner, his expression giving nothing away as he stares at Sam. Nevertheless Sam can sense a ruthless determination in him.
When the bell rings they start closing the gap. Sam can see him about to swing a forearm so they quickly cut him off with one of their own. Banks eats it up then hits back. Sam is stunned by his strength and their head flares with pain. They fire another forearm, this time Banks steps back. They hit a roundhouse to his waist, then two more in quick succession. Banks buckles after each one, almost crumpling after the third and quickly scoots through the ropes.
He has a look of mild frustration that quickly fades. He stares at Sam, seeming to dare them to leave the ring. Sam stays put while the referee begins counting. Banks starts circling the ring and at three jumps onto the apron and tries to climb through. Sam hits a stiff roundhouse on his shoulder while he's in the ropes, then after he gets a solid base goes for another but he makes a sudden lunge for their other leg to take them down with a sort of chop block. The two hundred pounder quickly gets some space then runs and hits a senton to Sam's back. He rolls them over and covers for a two count.
Sam sees him make a grab for their right arm as they start to get up. They quickly tuck it into their chest, so Banks instead boots the side of their face. As they stagger, stunned, Banks grabs their waist and hits a German suplex, not releasing until their upper back thuds on the mat. Sam rolls onto their front and protects their right arm. Banks delivers kick after kick to their right shoulder, then tears their arm out from under them and locks in a Fujiwara armbar.
Sam starts crawling to the ropes, making good progress, but Banks soon lets go and lifts them to their feet. Sam hits a huge slap for a “Get Fucked!” Banks is surprisingly resilient and slaps Sam harder, his face cold but the slap dripping with rage. He follows with a brutal forearm, then another. Sam fights off the mounting dizziness, keeping their senses but knows they're being overpowered. Banks puts them in a half nelson, hooks their leg and flips them up into a driver almost crushing their neck. He hoists them straight back up, gets them in a fisherman hold and lifts them in the air. Sam swings their free leg wildly, desperate to avoid the Ki Krusher, and lands back on the mat.
Sam hits another Get Fucked, rocking Banks, then drops him with a Saito suplex. When he sits up they go for a basement dropkick but he falls back down and they sail over. They both get to their feet at the same time. Sam bats away his incoming fist and goes for the STO. Banks elbows out and cracks their face with a stiff elbow smash. He runs to the ropes and comes back with a rolling Bull Hammer. Sam ducks, waits on him turning round, then throws the lariat. Banks catches their arm and hits a jumping double knee armbreaker. Sam rolls out to the apron avoiding Banks' grasp.
Ignoring the pain in their arm they climb the top turnbuckle, boot Banks away when he rushes in, then jump right over him. Sam keeps going, running to the ropes, then comes back with the lariat. It's far from full strength but knocks Banks down. They cover for a two count. He immediately starts rising to his feet but has a dazed look in his eyes. Sam hits a full force roundhouse kick to the waist, then a second to drop him to his knees. They follow with a buzzsaw kick, then push him onto his back before he has a chance to fall by himself. They run to the corner, climb the top rope, and leap off with the Sawyersault. It lands perfectly, but instead of covering they get up and quickly go back up top. They hit another Sawyersault, then hook the leg. The referee counts the three.
After the referee lets their hand go, Sam glances down at Banks. He's still not moving. They wonder if he'll be okay, but decide it'd probably be better not to stick around to chat. They hope their arm will be better for tomorrow night.