Post by paz on Apr 24, 2021 10:17:08 GMT -5
Doctor Leilani Kawelo was the senior physician on hand at the T-Mobile Center in Kansas City, Missouri. She flew in with the other staff for this pay-per-view as she was contractually obligated to do so. She would tend to many a wrestler when the situation called for it. She watched every match, not because she enjoyed it. No. There was nothing joyous watching competitors deliver crippling strikes and bone-breaking submissions. There was no beauty in the brutality for her. She watched each match, with bated breath, for the referee to call hold up that infamous X.
Barely even twenty minutes into the show, and that dreaded X was thrown.
“Rich,” she starts, looking down at the man laying on the mat. He was breathing heavily, having been in battle with another for twenty-plus minutes. She smiles at him as she tilted his head to the side. “We gotta stop meeting like this.”
“Doc, I’m good,” he mumbles, as blood gushes out from the side of his head. The thick, red liquid poured from his head down to the mat.
It was a risk he felt he had to take. What was supposed to be the main event of the evening became the show opener, as the ALPHA World Heavyweight Champion, RICH “BIG GAT” GATSBY demanded to face Ravage, who has tormented Gat for a month now, to start the show. Unaware of the stipulation and running on emotion, he came out with a victory, but his reward was a steel chair to the side of the head. Ravage swung for the fences and Gatsby will have a scar to tell stories about when he’s one of those old vets reminiscing about the days of old… sport.
“We gotta get this stitched up,” she said with concern. The gash was straight with no rigidness, at least, so the patchwork was going to be an easy session. “Can you walk?”
Gatsby sat up, he grabbed the once-white towel, now doused in crimson, and placed pressure on the side of his head. He looked around, and those standing at ringside showed a gradual relief of their fan favorite. The majority of the T-Mobile Center stared at the screen as the Fall of Kings video package played. As he walked up the entranceway, the video package was nearly at end. The production team created a CGI that made Ravage and Gatsby look like gods clashing before the logo for the pay-per-view showed on screen.
ALPHA World Heavyweight Championship title on one hand. With the other, he held a bloody towel, applying pressure to keep his brains in his head.
“I’ma get that muh’fucka’, Doc.”
“Let’s get these stitches, first. Shall we?,”
“Ax’ ‘round ‘bout THAT MAN, y’all finna see.”
The doctor had blood and sweat to worry about as she stuck the nylon suture into Gatsby’s skin. After taking a chair shot from his opponent on ALPHA Wrestling’s latest pay-per-view, Fall of Kings, the gash on the side of his head behind his left ear was definitely a problem. She continued to wipe off the sweat and the blood, but both were pouring profusely.
“I’m ‘bout that business, homie. Dem stitches ain’t shit,” Gatsby kept his head straight but attempted to direct his eyes to the doctor and grins. “My bad, doc. ‘Preciate ‘chu,” he says. The doctor can only smile at the genuine apology as she worked silently, allowing Gatsby to continue. “Been in this game, for a minute, nah’m sayin? Shit, doc, since last May? Came in a fuckin’ greenhorn n’ shit. Now I sit here… The ALPHA Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion. Ya boy got himself some ice on his wrist n’ neck, then fucked ‘round n’ got himself ice to wear around his waist, nah’m sayin?”
The painful piercing of needle into skin wasn’t pleasant. The doctor knew that the adrenaline was getting him through it, but she also knew the pain he was going to feel later. The nature of this business kept her constantly working around the clock, but even then, it was concerning how much time she’s spent with Rich. It seemed like as his career progressed, the more often he would be sitting on a medical table, being looked at for concussion protocols. She remembers pulling the shards of glass out of his mouth during a Cage of Deathmatch with one Graham Baker. She remembers how he sat in silence as she pulled the glass from his gums.
“Last year was ‘bout brandin’. This year finna be ‘bout expandin’. We out here straight hustlin’, y’all! Grind don’t stop mean Big GAT don’t stop, twenty-fo’ seven, three-six-mafia vibes, homie! I got that target on my back, wit’ this title n’ I wouldn’t want anything less. I’m BUILT fo’ this, bruh. Urban Juggernaut like a muh’fucka’! Been havin’ that target since I was a kid growin’ up in Inglewood. Block was hot back then - straight learnin’ lessons in my adolescence. You look at a muh’fucka’ funny n’ you get that pistol grip pump to the dome wit’ no remorse. Seen that shit too many times back in the day,” says Gatsby. He pauses for a moment, compartmentalizing the pain of the needle once again puncturing his skin. “You gain that recognition for bein’ the best at it n’ e’rybody wanna knock you down. Tonight’s no different. Tomorrow ain’t no different. Whether we out in Kansas City, back in Miami… Muh’fucka’s will KNOCK. YOU. DOWN… but I’m born ready.”
The doctor cuts the excess thread off. She places a protective cushion over it and tapes it up. Almost as if it’s second nature, Gatbsy proceeds without losing a beat. He lifts his fist up while staring at the camera and the doctor reluctantly gives him a dab. The champion picks his belt up and places it over his shoulder as he walks out of the trainer’s room.
“Sometimes you gotta bring the fight to ‘em, god.”
A change in scenery as Gatsby leans against the wall of a building. He’s fully dressed now, proudly wearing his ALPHA World Heavyweight Title over his shoulder, and not so proudly wearing stitches, bandaged up and protruding on the side of his head. Despite the stitches, he has made obligations. Obligations to other companies such as Strong Style Wrestling International next Sunday and Union Battleground in May. Gatsby adjusts the ALPHA Wrestling World Heavyweight Championship on his shoulder before continuing.
“ALPHA Wrestling treats me well, nah’m sayin? Through ALPHA I been able to fight some of the best in this business. But I ain’t tryna grow complacent, y’all. I ain’t here just to collect them checks. Muh’fucka’ like me gotsta learn how to evolve; how to grow as an athlete in this sport. You gotta get out of yo’ comfort zone n’ start fuckin’ with that new shit. I got my ass to Sacramento for Strong Style Wrestling International n’ kicked that muh’fuckin’ door in. I went to the biggest muh’fucka’ on the block n’ let him know just who the fuck I be. From Inglewood, to Miami, to Sac-Town then back down, if you know you know... But now?” A smile creeps across Gatsby’s face.“ “Now the Urban Juggernaut finna go to Norfolk, Virginia, n’ let dem muh’fuckas in Union Battleground know. Cuz they don’t. N’ I ain’t mad at ch’all,” Gatsby takes a moment to collect his thoughts.
“The homies been tellin’ me how much this shit be a slight, bein’ on the openin’ match of Lights Out 43. They saw me fuck up big man in SSWI. They see me wit’ the drip n’ wonder why they gotta treat Big GAT like that. But I get it. I really get it y’all. Who GAT? Who that big ass muh’fucka tryna come into my hood wit’ it? To all y’all, I ain’t shit. You saw that name on the card n’ y’all get on that Great Depression vibes. On that ‘old sport’ vibes. I see y’all.” scoffs Gatsby. He can’t help but laugh at how his name immediately is associated with an old novel. The character in the book is stark contrast to the man standing in front of us today.
“We all gunnin’ fo’ that numma’ one spot but we all gotta start somewhere, right? Well, this is me startin’. This is The Urban Juggernaut Rich muh’fuckin’ Gatsby, puttin’ all y’all muh’fuckas on notice. Remember the date, fam. Remember May Second. It ain’t finna take too long to watch me rise. It ain’t finna be too long till I get to where I wanna be in Union Battleground. Allister Meowly finna find out first hand what Big GAT all ‘bout. Queen, I ain’t got nothin’ but love for y’all, but I gotta do me, nah’m sayin’? Y’all finna find out why I’m the ALPHA Champion. Y’all finna find out why I bus’ my ass night in n’ night out for this sport. I live by a motto n’ that shit keeps me goin’ each n’ every day. I keep my head down n’ my chest up. Union Battleground. Allister Meowly...”
“Consider this is my introduction.”
“BRING THE FUCKIN’ RUCKUS!”