Post by Lucas Walker on Feb 22, 2018 17:57:31 GMT -5
When we join Lucas Walker this time, he isn't in the wilderness, as we've become accustomed to seeing him. Instead, he's sitting next to a heavy bag in a gym, clearly at the end of a strenuous workout. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and weariness sits in his eyes. He sighs, shaking his head, and rubs the bridge of his nose before mopping some sweat from his brow. "Y'know, I've done a whole lot of droppin' my shoulder and pushin' through adversity in my life. I've dealt with my share of setbacks, and I know things'll work out in the end. There's a plan for all of us, and I know I don't understand a lot of the road that plan travels. I just..."
He shakes his head again, standing up and looking to the ceiling. "There's only so many times a man can say things didn't go to plan before it starts chafing at his ears. It's an uncomfortable phrase, partly because saying it means you're dealin' with another setback and partly because things probably DIDN'T go to plan. They just didn't go to my plan. And if I keep beatin' my head against the wall, nothing's gonna change."
Lucas drops his gaze to meet the camera's, a grin on his face. "So I better change my plans then, huh?"
We open on two figures approaching the edge of a creek, loaded down with fishing gear, one dwarfing the other in stature.
The bigger one was a giant of a man who appeared to be somewhere in his thirties, clad in flannel and denim with a wild mane of black hair and an untamable beard. He carried a cooler with one hand and a pair of fishing rods in the other, a backpack slung across his back. He turned, looking back to the smaller figure and letting out a bellowing call that filled the woods. "Lucas!"
"I'm coming!" the smaller figure called back, scrambling over a log. Smaller in this case was a relative term, as the young boy who scrambled through the trees to catch up, despite his features marking him as no older than nine or ten, stood a full six feet tall. Still, as he caught up, carrying a tackle box in his hands, it was clear that the bigger man towered over him by a matter of eight or nine inches. The boy beamed up at the bigger man, adoration clear in his expression. "You think we're gonna catch much today, Dad?"
"As many fish as'll come." The big man grinned, settling in on a tree stump, and popped open the tackle box. He began to rig up the two rods, carefully selecting a pair of artificial baits. "Normally, I would've gone down and grabbed some worms from the store, but Pearl was sick, so Carter closed up early." The big man looked over at Lucas, smirking through the thicket of his beard. "Bet you're disappointed."
Lucas shook his head, beaming demeanor unflappable. "I just hope we catch a bunch of fish. Mom's fish is the best!" The boy's enthusiasm draws a rumbling chuckle from the older man, and he nods, reaching out and patting the boy's shoulder before resuming his work on the rod.
"Aaaand there you go." Lucas's father closed the tackle box again and handed his son one of the rods. Lucas took the rod enthusiastically, squaring himself, and cast it out into part of the stream. He settled in on a rock near his father, a giddy grin on his face, and began reeling back in as we fade.
"Aiden Reynolds, I'm gonna make myself look a fool here." Lucas admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know a whole heck of a lot about you. I know you're Australian, I know you've traveled the world wrestling, I know you've got a chip on your shoulder size of Mt. Mitchell, and I know that probably wasn't helped by gettin' tossed out by Todd Williams last week." he shrugs. "Whole lotta learnin' on the job here."
"I do know a little bit about temper, though, and you got that like a bear who woke up halfway through hibernation." Lucas manages a grin, resting a forearm against the frame that holds up the heavy bag. "You're ornery, and when you're ornery, it gets you all tunnel-visioned. Takes a lot to hold ya on the rails. Takes a lot of practice. You got that practice, Aiden?"
Lucas bounces a little on the heels of his feet, brimming with energy. "Now, you're good. Don't put in a performance like you did last week without being good. But throwin' men over the top rope, that's a different animal than pinning one down or making one tap. If you didn't know just what kinda animal Combat is before, this week's gonna get you caught up mighty quick."
Lucas pats the frame with his palm, stepping away again. "I mean, y'got a lot of practice with a lot of other things. You've had a sampling of all the major kinds of wrestling. Lucha libre, Japanese wrestling, British wrestling...you know it all. But there's one thing you're probably used to that'cha don't got here: size."
The big man grins, cracking his neck. "You could sling around luchadores and a lot of them smaller mat guys with ease, right? Like a woodchuck chuckin' wood. Somethin' tells me that ain't gonna be the case here. Taane, he's a heck of a lot harder to lift than ya might think based on the numbers, and me? Well, shoot, I'm still lookin' for the man that can throw me around."
"Nah, I think you ain't ever really dealt with guys like me or Taane before." Lucas turns on his heel, looking at the heavy bag again. He cracks his neck, sauntering up, and seemingly out of nowhere delivers a massive right hook to the bag, sending it wobbling. "We're faster than we should be, we hit harder than we should, and in case our performance a few weeks ago didn't show ya nothin', we can go as long as it takes. Couple of regular triple threats."
He chuckles a little at the self-promotion. "I'm lookin' forward to what ya bring to the table. Always excitin' learning new things...but it's also good to revisit old favorites."
"How ya doin', Taane?"
The sun was a little lower in the sky, and the cooler was cracked open, several fish swimming in the water. Lucas's expression, far from its earlier excitement, has faded to irritation. He reels his bait in, showing an empty hook, and he shook his head, setting the rod aside and jumping up as he began to pace. "We've been fishing for hours, Dad! How come you've caught fish and I don't have any?"
The big man shook his head, sighing with a wry smile on his face. "First, it's been forty minutes. Second, you've been casting your line in the same place the entire time. Have you noticed how I've been fishing?"
Lucas furrowed his brow, pausing and trying to recall. "You...keep moving. You moved upstream for a bit, then moved downstream past where I've been. That whatcha mean?"
His father nodded patiently, walking over and picking up Lucas's rod. He handed it back to him. "Try casting over there. See what happens."
Lucas nodded slowly, taking his rod from his father. He reared back slowly, casting the bait out into the stream. The ripples from the lure had barely begun to subside when Lucas felt the telltale yank of something on the end of his line. He began reeling in frantically, his father laughing and clapping, and with a yank, Lucas hauled back on the rod, pulling a sizable catfish from the river. His father quickly stepped in, snaring the catfish in a massive hand, and set to work removing the hook from its mouth. "See? What'd I tell you? Change a little, and you can reap some big rewards!"
Lucas's jaw dropped, and he laughed as well, shaking his head as his father walked over and dropped the fish in the cooler. "Wow, Dad! How big was that thing? It musta been six pounds!"
"Probably more, that fella wasn't tiny." his father grinned, shaking his head. "Alright, master fisherman. You wanna keep goin' here?"
"Yeah!" Lucas nodded enthusiastically. He picked up his rod, settling in at his new location. As he drew his arm back, though, he paused. Lucas turned slightly, casting his bait further upstream. His father nodded in the background, a prideful smile peeking out from beneath his beard, and he settled in himself, casting out his own line as we fade away.
"Been lookin' forward to this." Lucas grins, smile so wide it practically splits his face. "Muru last week? That was interesting. The fatal four-way? That was a good introduction. But you and me? You and me, we got to tear the house down. We got to go like a couple crazed mountain goats, and I've been itchin' to get back in there for Round Two."
"You always end your promos with the same four letters. BTDT. Born To Do This, right?" Lucas nods, cracking his neck. "I may not've been born to do this from Day One, but I sure was born to do somethin' with my life. Sometimes, it takes ya a little while to find out what that somethin' is, but hey. Journey's sure been fun so far, and the more I lock up with guys like you, Taane, the more I'm pretty sure I can say it too. BTDT."
He reaches down, grabbing his cowboy hat, and perches it atop his head. "We threw hands like it was the only thing we knew how to do, Taane. For twenty minutes, weren't nothing else in this world but you, me, the ref and the ring. We don't get that luxury this time, pal. We got Aiden Reynolds cuttin' in, askin' for a dance. Trust me, I'm a big guy. Plenty of me to dance for both of ya. Just give me a second to find my rhythm. I may be quick, but I wasn't ever much of a dancer."
"This match? This match right here? It's gonna get crazy." Lucas nods confidently, picking up his duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "It's gonna turn into a real raccoon fight. Just three guys fightin' for the love of it. No belt, no contender's shot, nothing on the line but blood and pride. How it's been for the longest time. I'm ready. Are y'all?"
Lucas squares up to the camera. "You better be." He cracks his neck, grinning. "'cause if you're not, you're gonna get caught. You're gonna get stopped. Snared up, shot down. Hunt's on, boys, and I'm not stoppin' 'til I get my fill. Let's do this." He tips his hat again, walking into the camera as we fade to black.
He shakes his head again, standing up and looking to the ceiling. "There's only so many times a man can say things didn't go to plan before it starts chafing at his ears. It's an uncomfortable phrase, partly because saying it means you're dealin' with another setback and partly because things probably DIDN'T go to plan. They just didn't go to my plan. And if I keep beatin' my head against the wall, nothing's gonna change."
Lucas drops his gaze to meet the camera's, a grin on his face. "So I better change my plans then, huh?"
We open on two figures approaching the edge of a creek, loaded down with fishing gear, one dwarfing the other in stature.
The bigger one was a giant of a man who appeared to be somewhere in his thirties, clad in flannel and denim with a wild mane of black hair and an untamable beard. He carried a cooler with one hand and a pair of fishing rods in the other, a backpack slung across his back. He turned, looking back to the smaller figure and letting out a bellowing call that filled the woods. "Lucas!"
"I'm coming!" the smaller figure called back, scrambling over a log. Smaller in this case was a relative term, as the young boy who scrambled through the trees to catch up, despite his features marking him as no older than nine or ten, stood a full six feet tall. Still, as he caught up, carrying a tackle box in his hands, it was clear that the bigger man towered over him by a matter of eight or nine inches. The boy beamed up at the bigger man, adoration clear in his expression. "You think we're gonna catch much today, Dad?"
"As many fish as'll come." The big man grinned, settling in on a tree stump, and popped open the tackle box. He began to rig up the two rods, carefully selecting a pair of artificial baits. "Normally, I would've gone down and grabbed some worms from the store, but Pearl was sick, so Carter closed up early." The big man looked over at Lucas, smirking through the thicket of his beard. "Bet you're disappointed."
Lucas shook his head, beaming demeanor unflappable. "I just hope we catch a bunch of fish. Mom's fish is the best!" The boy's enthusiasm draws a rumbling chuckle from the older man, and he nods, reaching out and patting the boy's shoulder before resuming his work on the rod.
"Aaaand there you go." Lucas's father closed the tackle box again and handed his son one of the rods. Lucas took the rod enthusiastically, squaring himself, and cast it out into part of the stream. He settled in on a rock near his father, a giddy grin on his face, and began reeling back in as we fade.
"Aiden Reynolds, I'm gonna make myself look a fool here." Lucas admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know a whole heck of a lot about you. I know you're Australian, I know you've traveled the world wrestling, I know you've got a chip on your shoulder size of Mt. Mitchell, and I know that probably wasn't helped by gettin' tossed out by Todd Williams last week." he shrugs. "Whole lotta learnin' on the job here."
"I do know a little bit about temper, though, and you got that like a bear who woke up halfway through hibernation." Lucas manages a grin, resting a forearm against the frame that holds up the heavy bag. "You're ornery, and when you're ornery, it gets you all tunnel-visioned. Takes a lot to hold ya on the rails. Takes a lot of practice. You got that practice, Aiden?"
Lucas bounces a little on the heels of his feet, brimming with energy. "Now, you're good. Don't put in a performance like you did last week without being good. But throwin' men over the top rope, that's a different animal than pinning one down or making one tap. If you didn't know just what kinda animal Combat is before, this week's gonna get you caught up mighty quick."
Lucas pats the frame with his palm, stepping away again. "I mean, y'got a lot of practice with a lot of other things. You've had a sampling of all the major kinds of wrestling. Lucha libre, Japanese wrestling, British wrestling...you know it all. But there's one thing you're probably used to that'cha don't got here: size."
The big man grins, cracking his neck. "You could sling around luchadores and a lot of them smaller mat guys with ease, right? Like a woodchuck chuckin' wood. Somethin' tells me that ain't gonna be the case here. Taane, he's a heck of a lot harder to lift than ya might think based on the numbers, and me? Well, shoot, I'm still lookin' for the man that can throw me around."
"Nah, I think you ain't ever really dealt with guys like me or Taane before." Lucas turns on his heel, looking at the heavy bag again. He cracks his neck, sauntering up, and seemingly out of nowhere delivers a massive right hook to the bag, sending it wobbling. "We're faster than we should be, we hit harder than we should, and in case our performance a few weeks ago didn't show ya nothin', we can go as long as it takes. Couple of regular triple threats."
He chuckles a little at the self-promotion. "I'm lookin' forward to what ya bring to the table. Always excitin' learning new things...but it's also good to revisit old favorites."
"How ya doin', Taane?"
The sun was a little lower in the sky, and the cooler was cracked open, several fish swimming in the water. Lucas's expression, far from its earlier excitement, has faded to irritation. He reels his bait in, showing an empty hook, and he shook his head, setting the rod aside and jumping up as he began to pace. "We've been fishing for hours, Dad! How come you've caught fish and I don't have any?"
The big man shook his head, sighing with a wry smile on his face. "First, it's been forty minutes. Second, you've been casting your line in the same place the entire time. Have you noticed how I've been fishing?"
Lucas furrowed his brow, pausing and trying to recall. "You...keep moving. You moved upstream for a bit, then moved downstream past where I've been. That whatcha mean?"
His father nodded patiently, walking over and picking up Lucas's rod. He handed it back to him. "Try casting over there. See what happens."
Lucas nodded slowly, taking his rod from his father. He reared back slowly, casting the bait out into the stream. The ripples from the lure had barely begun to subside when Lucas felt the telltale yank of something on the end of his line. He began reeling in frantically, his father laughing and clapping, and with a yank, Lucas hauled back on the rod, pulling a sizable catfish from the river. His father quickly stepped in, snaring the catfish in a massive hand, and set to work removing the hook from its mouth. "See? What'd I tell you? Change a little, and you can reap some big rewards!"
Lucas's jaw dropped, and he laughed as well, shaking his head as his father walked over and dropped the fish in the cooler. "Wow, Dad! How big was that thing? It musta been six pounds!"
"Probably more, that fella wasn't tiny." his father grinned, shaking his head. "Alright, master fisherman. You wanna keep goin' here?"
"Yeah!" Lucas nodded enthusiastically. He picked up his rod, settling in at his new location. As he drew his arm back, though, he paused. Lucas turned slightly, casting his bait further upstream. His father nodded in the background, a prideful smile peeking out from beneath his beard, and he settled in himself, casting out his own line as we fade away.
"Been lookin' forward to this." Lucas grins, smile so wide it practically splits his face. "Muru last week? That was interesting. The fatal four-way? That was a good introduction. But you and me? You and me, we got to tear the house down. We got to go like a couple crazed mountain goats, and I've been itchin' to get back in there for Round Two."
"You always end your promos with the same four letters. BTDT. Born To Do This, right?" Lucas nods, cracking his neck. "I may not've been born to do this from Day One, but I sure was born to do somethin' with my life. Sometimes, it takes ya a little while to find out what that somethin' is, but hey. Journey's sure been fun so far, and the more I lock up with guys like you, Taane, the more I'm pretty sure I can say it too. BTDT."
He reaches down, grabbing his cowboy hat, and perches it atop his head. "We threw hands like it was the only thing we knew how to do, Taane. For twenty minutes, weren't nothing else in this world but you, me, the ref and the ring. We don't get that luxury this time, pal. We got Aiden Reynolds cuttin' in, askin' for a dance. Trust me, I'm a big guy. Plenty of me to dance for both of ya. Just give me a second to find my rhythm. I may be quick, but I wasn't ever much of a dancer."
"This match? This match right here? It's gonna get crazy." Lucas nods confidently, picking up his duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "It's gonna turn into a real raccoon fight. Just three guys fightin' for the love of it. No belt, no contender's shot, nothing on the line but blood and pride. How it's been for the longest time. I'm ready. Are y'all?"
Lucas squares up to the camera. "You better be." He cracks his neck, grinning. "'cause if you're not, you're gonna get caught. You're gonna get stopped. Snared up, shot down. Hunt's on, boys, and I'm not stoppin' 'til I get my fill. Let's do this." He tips his hat again, walking into the camera as we fade to black.