Rocket's Red Gust [PrimeTime II, promo #1]
May 9, 2020 21:22:34 GMT -5
Post by Admin on May 9, 2020 21:22:34 GMT -5
The scene opens up on a dreary day, showing Max Ironside standing inside one of the most historical buildings in Montreal – the former Forum. He stands at the recreation of center ice, looking down at the dashed red and white line.
Max Ironside
The concept of reinvention isn't new to me – I suppose it's not really new to anyone who's been in this business longer than a few years. Sometimes things get old. They need to be refreshed. Sometimes they outlive their use and a newer, better thing comes along. Can't help but feel the parallels this week, especially when I'm standing here, in a building that's seen so much. If only these walls could talk… the stories I'm sure they could tell. Twenty-four Stanley Cup championships called this place home. That's just a little overwhelming. I'm sure the number of championships Raging Dead has held far surpasses that, but I'm still impressed.
He shuffles his feet, toeing at the line.
Max Ironside
I'll be the first to admit I feel a little like a traitor this week. I grew up a couple hours from Detroit and while this isn't Maple Leaf Gardens...
He makes a face like he wants to spit after having that name in his mouth.
Max Ironside
I'm a Red Wings fan. I didn't really get much of a choice there. Proximity and all that jazz. Not that I really watch all that much hockey these days. Don't really have time for it.
He forces a smile and then stares down at the floor again, sighing.
Max Ironside
This week I'm in the Main Event and while it's not my first time at the top of the card, in the spotlight match, it is the first time I've faced someone with as much wrestling history stored in his noggin as Raging Dead. All my time spent in the indies, never really got to rub shoulders with a veteran of his caliber. I mean, he's probably FORGOTTEN more moves over the years that I've ever even learned. So, it's not all that foreign for me to be nervous about this match, especially with the extra variable of the talented Athena in the mix. There's only so much you can do to prepare for a match like this.
It's quiet where he stands and he looks around for a moment. The last movie in the multiplex cinema that dominates most of the building is still running, won't be out for another half hour at least so he has the place to himself. Beyond the doors, rain is falling, pattering against the glass. Head bowed; he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his battered hoodie, gathering his thoughts.
Max Ironside
Goes without saying that I want to win, I want to finally wrap my hands around that prize and hold it tight. I want to know that all these years of busting ass and working for peanuts in rec centers and high school gyms was worth it because it brought me here. It put me on the legendary Bret Hart's radar and it allowed me this singular opportunity to compete in the big leagues. If I can beat a legend and a skilled female wrestler, I can move on to the final… one step closer to the gold and the glory I've been after for years. I could maybe face someone like Sasha Foote, someone worthy of respect.
Max turns and looks towards the statue of 'Rocket' Maurice Richard sitting on a bench, stick at ready, waiting to jump into action. The eagerness on The Rocket's face matches Max's own as he stands there with his hands still in his pockets.
Max Ironside
And I'm not saying I don't respect Gust. Not at all. He's good. He's also working for several other companies right now and there has to be a toll it's taking. Nothing against his body of work. I watched his match with Spud; I saw how easily he handled a guy that size – I'm not much bigger. I'm aware of all the things against me this week, from decades of experience to… well… yeah. The experience counts for everything. He knows what to do. He knows how to chase a championship and actually follow through on that and believe me, I've been studying really hard. I've watched thousands of hours of tape over the last few weeks. I've got the Nathan Gust/Raging Dead highlight reel running through my head on repeat. I've got the knowledge of his go-to moves, his weaknesses, all his tells and tics. I got all this hype to live up to now, like the diamond in the rough some wrestling reporter labelled me as. I'm feeling all sorts of pressure but I don't feel much like coal. I don't think squeezing me as hard as you can will produce a shiny, over-priced rock. That's a myth, really. Pressure doesn't make heroes or elevate people – not the way you wish it would. That would be too much like magic and that simply doesn't exist.
He takes his good hand from his pocket and rests it on the shoulder of Richard.
Max Ironside
This guy was in the right place at the right time. He existed at a time when the sport was far more dangerous, when a man had to be wily and cagey – he was. He was one of the most cerebral guys out there and while he's no Gretzky for the records racked up, he's still getting his dues. He's here, immortalized even though the rink that he defined himself on is long gone. I guess a part of me envies that more than I really care to admit. It's nice to be in the record books, to have that benchmark set that people want to break. But this right here? This is more my jam. Being celebrated within the walls that made you who you are, long after the cheers have faded away. Gust, like our friend The Rocket here, probably has that somewhere already. He's probably in four or five halls of fame in companies that nobody outside the Jim Cornettes of the business even remember. He probably has a giant room full of trophies and defunct belts and pictures of himself everywhere. Why not? I would if I had a career like his. I would want to remember every second of it, revel in all the glory that went down because it still leaves him with that shine. He's got clout simply because he's been doing this twice as long as anyone else. I mean, the longer you're around, the more glory. That's a given. This is the home of one of the original six. That's why there are so many Cups. That's why Gust is so damn celebrated. It's a trick of time. It's not a true testament of skill any more than me beating Boneius was.
He lifts that same hand up and rubs it over his mouth as though he wants to wipe away the bitterness in his tone.
Max Ironside
Listen, I know I'm not the odd-on favorite. I know there's nobody out there calling for me to be the winner of this whole shebang and I'm reminded about all the other times I've had doors slammed in my face. All the other times people have laughed at me, called me a fool for wanting to chase a dream in pro wrestling that even someone completely able-bodied can wash out of. I don't want the story to end with me pushing and pushing, forever trying to make it uphill with the boulder of disability and skepticism only for it to to roll back and crush me in the end. I want to prove that I can do this. That heart and passion and determination and HARD WORK can topple a legacy when it comes right down to it. When the old bones have served their use, they can be repurposed. They can be revamped into something better...
He starts to walk away from center ice and The Rocket's statue towards the doors and the rain outside that awaits. Pausing, he looks back over his shoulder.
Max Ironside
I'm not here to be anybody's victim. I'm not here to be a punchline. I'm not here to fill a quota or to catch the pity card. No, hell no. I'm here to win, Gust. If I have to do that by tearing you apart, by proving that your legacy and your last hurrah is just another grab to keep from slipping into irrelevancy… so be it. I'll do what it takes, WHATEVER it takes.
Without another word, he turns and pulls his hood up to cover his head, pushing out into the rain with his shoulders hunched, looking determined and resolute. Looking, really, like a future champion.
