004 [DWF]

May 1, 2017

Three minutes past midnight and the gym was empty. It closed at nine but he had a sort of kinship with the owner, a little extra leeway that gave him a spare key and the ability to come and go as he pleased. Max was aware of the silence, the thump and hiss of the air conditioning every time the compressor kicked on - once the place had cleared out for the night, it'd gotten cold. His right hand was cramping worse than usual, his wrist aching from taking the weight of the lifting strap every time his fingers opened on their own - raw skin, probably on the wrong side of bruised but he didn't stop. He'd been here for six hours already and every clang of the weights, every squeak of soles on the rubber floor had reverberated through him, pushing him onward. In the last three hours of stillness, he could still hear the phantom noises, the ghosts of all those who'd come before him as though they were waiting to see if he passed the test before passing the torch.

On some level he knew what constituted preparation and what was more akin to punishment but he couldn't bring himself to stop. The kettlebell trembled, slipping from his right hand again and this time the velcro gave way, the strap coming loose. He still held it with his left, but it crashed against his knee before he let it fall. He walked in a quick circle, testing to see if that was going to stiffen him up. "Clumsy," he muttered, rolling his shoulders before he started doing box jumps. The soft clearing of a throat a few seconds later made him freeze, closing his eyes and dragging in a steadying breath before he lifted his head to look. With his glasses fogged from perspiration, she was somewhat blurry but he could see the tattoos decorating the arms that were folded across her chest - Florence Fallon. He was stunned, forgetting for the moment that he'd asked her to come simply because he was so damned lonely.

It was a last minute trip - fleeing, really. Now here she was, waltzing into this gym without knowing anyone only to find it deserted. When she'd finally spotted Max, her heart felt less heavy. "Good day, mister."

Max hopped down and smiled, nodding. "Well," he glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised by how late it was, "technically night."

"It's day ‘til you've slept." Her voice was as soft as always but she looked so tired with dark shadows under her eyes. "So is this where the magic happens?"

"Magic implies randomness, Flossy. This is calculated," Max sat down on the box, patting the space beside him. "Sit down?"

"Can still be magical." She let out a small chuckle, sitting down next to him. Gently, she took his bad hand in hers, running her thumb over the chafed skin on his wrist. "Big match coming up, huh?"

"The biggest," he corrected, looking down at his bare feet, "first time I've ever gotten this far. That four way was the first time anyone's ever thrown me a bone. Funniest part is how I was the one originally booked in that match. Didn't matter that Pat and Nora cashed in. They…" he paused, "well, I guess I got lucky. I landed in the right place and-"

"Lucky?" she scoffed, "no, Max. You won fair and square and I'm very proud of you," her tone was warm, honest, "I'm certainly not gonna miss this. Gotta tell the story of how you became champion."

"Not so sure that's gonna be the outcome." He glanced sidelong at her, seeing the exhaustion on her face, "you really think I can beat Aidan Carlisle?"

"I believe that everyone can beat anyone if the circumstances are in favour. You've been working at this for years - you'll give it your best shot." Florence smiled at him softly. "And if not? There's always next time."

"Always next time," Max nodded, "seems like that could apply elsewhere, too, doesn't it?" He let that hang between them for a moment. "You finally had that talk with him, didn't you?"

Her expression closed off even as the tears she'd denied flooded her eyes. It was hard to put in words what was going on inside her head. "Yeah," she finally whispered.

Max's heart broke just watching her struggling to contain her emotions. "No wonder you look so tired. Storms've been stealing your sleep; you need your thunder buddy." Despite the fact that he was sweaty, he put his arm around her, murmuring, "I'm sorry it's over."

She didn't resist, immediately cuddling against him. "Assuming and hearing are two different pairs of shoes." She looked up at him, "did you talk to Kasey?"

He said nothing, eyes downcast. The silence was comfortable, neither wanting to break it and let the real world creep back in.

Finally Florence spoke, "we've got a match to prepare for, yes?"

"I do. But for tonight, I've done enough." He changed the subject as quickly as she had, "are you hungry? We could go back to my place and I'll make you dinner."

"You'll cook? How could I say no?" She was still leaning against him, taking another few moments to collect herself. "Just say you aren't on some strange diet."

Max chuckled. "Not really. That'll come next week when I start eating only egg noodles and tuna." Reluctantly, he let his arm drop, moving to his feet. "I'll just go grab my things." He smiled, not really wanting to let her out of his sight even that long, "I can shower at home while the food's cooking." He hesitated before pulling away, "and thanks. For coming, I mean. You didn't have to and I really appreciate it."

Florence slowly got up, feeling the exhaustion weighing her down. "Thank you for inviting me." She made a shooing motion, "now go get your things. I'll still be here. Promise."


"Aidan," there's a pause while a smile creeps across the clean-shaven face of Max Ironside. "I know you've got a football game tomorrow - happy Cinco De Mayo. I'd wish you luck, but that's not a thing that exists for us, is it?"

He shakes his head.

"There are so many things about you that I find myself envying, Aidan. Hopefully you'll forgive my ignorance but the first I ever saw of you was the night you dumped Faith Rivers in the Savannah. I felt Kasey's disappointment because I knew how badly she wanted to test herself against you. I remember seeing you handed that belt, hoisted on the shoulders of that crowd and I remember how badly I wished I could trade places."

Clearing his throat, he presses on.

"So, I owe you an apology. My initial perceptions were tainted by Kasey's jealousy, by her bitter words and I saw you with the silver spoon in your mouth, getting handed things on a platter. The moment I signed that contract, I was happy to give up on the dream of someday reaching your level. I was thrilled to be signed, to be part of the business again. I gave up on Main Events and championship wishes. I gave up, Aidan. I. Gave. Up."

His voice shakes slightly.

"I was wrong and I need you to understand just how much I've pinned on this moment. When I signed, I was expecting to be a gatekeeper, to participate in the one shot matches and nothing else. Instead, in Austin, I was given the biggest opportunity. Me. Before all the buy-ins, before all the complications, I was chosen. Out of four, I came out on top and now I have to reconcile that win with where I was mentally going in, feeling like the odd man out. Yeah. This huge opportunity and I won. I should feel good about that. Proud. And on some level I do, don't get me wrong, I really do. It doesn’t stop there, though. All this work wasn't for a single shining moment. No way. Now I get to face someone I felt inferior to long before my name was ever on a Defiant contract. It's..." he hesitates, "frustrating to never feel like you'll be good enough. You know that?"

He pauses, swallowing hard.

"I've put in so much work to even be here - a huge uphill climb and I'm not trying to belittle what you've done by saying I've done more. No matter how hard I try, I can't shirk the realization that I've got more in common with Areano and Summer than I do with you. I don't want that to be true but there's no denying it. Nobody sees me as a threat. Beating you will always be labelled an 'upset'. I need to give them a reason to pay attention. This match, in Odessa, against you? It's a start."

Max sighs, shaking his head.

"You ARE the measuring stick, Aidan. The toughest match of my career, absolutely. Even without the gold you have around your waist, you radiate greatness. People take notice. I want to shine like that, Aidan. It's the reason I'm going to give you everything I've got."

He leans forward, blue eyes piercing, his tone vehement.

"Outside of this company, few know my name - not for a lack of trying. The big leagues never wanted me - I've knocked on all their doors and there's always an excuse. See, I might not know everything about you, I might not really understand what makes you tick, but in Odessa, that won't matter. I don't need all your skeletons and secrets on the table. I don't need it all spelled out clear as day so I can recite your facts forwards and back. See, for some - for you, maybe - wrestling is just a stopgap, just a small chapter in a varied athletic career. And that's fine. For some. For you. But for me? No. Hell no. Wrestling is the ENTIRE book."

He pauses, stabbing a finger towards the camera.

"You think you can stamp the words THE END on me in Odessa? Think you can finish my story? Go ahead and try, Aidan. Go. Ahead. And. Try."

Max chuckles softly, winking at the camera. 

"See, there's always the sequel."