Shoot 002: Icarus And The Sun

Lex Collins stands in the open doorway of a shabby motel, one arm braced against the jamb. His hands are swollen, shredded knuckles just starting to crust over. He squints into the rising sun.

"Another day dawns, Shae," he clears his throat, blinking before rubbing his watering right eye with the heel of his hand. "Don't feel any better about what went down last night. An' I know a little swerve, a little tablecloth yank trick at the last second shouldn't even make me bat an eye. Key word 'shouldn't' – after all these years, anyhow." He pauses. Bites his lip.

"I don't really gotta tell you that. Your opponent wasn't the same as advertised. Wasn't – fuck." he sighs, "learned to trust my gut years ago. I don't scare easy. Never have."

A beat.

"So, Shae – how 'bout it? Gonna tell me a story? Gonna let me inside that head of yours? I don't know shit about you beyond those few minutes I saw. You're this friggin' UNKNOWN quantity with a single wrestlin' match to your name. Least that's what I heard. This' your first company, first time lacin' up those dancin' shoes. I wanna call bullshit. I saw a bit of your match while I was gettin' my fists taped up."

He sounds exhausted. Looks it, too.

"My trainer once told me that 'impressive and good enough are two totally different animals'. I didn't get it then 'cause most of the important advice goes sailin' overhead when you're so green all you wanna do is hear the crowd go insane for you instead of silence and crickets. Doesn't always happen right off. Some of us get lucky. Some of us make that magical, almost mystical connection. Others muddle through, fake it 'til they make it with this sorta Criss Angel level slight-of-mind fakery. Those are the dangerous ones 'cause you don't know what's hiding behind smoke an' mirrors. Are they good enough to hang? Or are they gonna crash an' burn – Icarus' wax wings melting when they fly too close to the sun."

Lex clears his throat again. "I'm YOUR risin' sun, gonna be a hot one. Can already tell. See, been doin' this long enough, I feel like I can spot a fake. Nine times outta ten, you'd prob'ly pass muster. I know I'm comin' at it sideways so I'll be more direct. Five years ago, I wouldn't have seen it.

See what Ace meant was that you can suck an' still be impressive. You can look good on paper, on video – live or fuckin' Memorex – you can have a stat sheet that sings praises, accomplishments like the day's long but if you can't go down swingin' against the monsters out there, then you're on the wrong side of my little tale. See, I could rattle off all these reasons why I know I'm gonna put you down out there, but it's just talk. It's just wind – hot air don't burn. I really wanna take out your wings, I gotta bring heat, don't I? I gotta breathe smoke, spit fire like a dragon. Incinerate the lies you used to stick your wings together."

He chuckles softly.

"Talk's cheap. What's expensive is respect an' since it's barely June, not handin' that out like Halloween candy yet. Conditioning, Shae. That's what matters here. Not my years of experience. Not my skill at seein' the circles before they ever clash. You can talk about precision an' you can hold that last win so close you're in danger of chokin' the life outta it but you can't deny the evidence in my fight 'gainst that masked mountain – long after you tire, I'll still have gas in the tank. Skills're important."

A smile crosses his lips.

"Right now, I'm just grateful you're not postin' Twitter near-nudes as if showin' off your body is gonna make you a contender – believe me, 'wrestled' more'n my fair share of those ladies in my life. Usin' that term loosely, of course. Hopin' I don't get proven wrong as time rolls on here – I wanna respect you on merits, Shae. I truly do. I want you to come at me hard as you can. I want you to stick an' strike when so many others'd fade an' fall. I want you to prove you're not a fraud who focuses on cardio just so you don't get winded runnin' away. I'll stop, now. I wanna hear your side – don't wanna get too preachy from the get-go. Don't wanna punch your ticket for the alien nation too quickly."

Another rough chuckle.

"People always wanna downplay the slide. Don't. Some people're born mediocre, some people achieve mediocrity, an' others have mediocrity thrust upon them. You haven't settled into a category yet – that's the bright side. An' while you're just getting started, while you've got all this so-called 'room to grow', I've got a rear-view full of wreckage an' rubble an' I'm just lightin' the match to watch it all burn. We're even, Shae. Both comin' into this as winners – both victorious over the wolves we got thrown to on that inaugural show. Other'n that, we're nothing alike. I learned my craft wrestlin' in community centers an' high school gyms. Worked my way up to legit arenas. I risked my body, my soul, my goddamned mind to get here."

He unzips his black hoodie, casting it aside. Underneath he's shirtless, and in the sun's harsh glow, he turns around, showing off the scars crisscrossing his back that he normally goes to great pains to hide. "This is why I know I can take you, Shae. I was learnin' how to shine, convertin' sparks to white-hot burn when the wrestlin' business had never even dreamt of you. This ain't about bein' the best, Shae. It's about standing tall an' knowing all that bloodshed was finally fuckin' worth it."