After The Main Event

"Until the lion tells the story, the hunter will always be the hero."

His theme music continues to thwart any apathy towards the opponent he just bested. He carefully gathers himself and made short time in taking advantage of the sliver of a moment. He walks slowly to the corner turbuckle facing the ramp and climbs to see a sea of starving fans showing their honest appreciation for one of the new - soon to be - stars of Ultra Combat Sports. He slowly points to a fan holding a red and black sign with the appropriate words of "WE LOVE COMBAT SPORTS". The elated woman wearing said shirt noticed this was happening as they caught each others eyes. She took the hook. 

He emphatically points towards the fan and screams, "I DO TOO", knowing the loving fan or anyone involved could barely hear anything from the person sitting beside them. From there, THE GUEST OF HONOR, raises both of his arms with his fists wide open. He aggressively aims them at the comulous clouds above. He thoroughly enjoys the very commited crowd in attendence and brings his arms down making a belt like taunt or motion as if to confirm his immediate want and insatiable interest in being the first champion in Ultra Combat Sports.

The incredulous scene contines with Saito Goh comfortably sliding out of the ring and cautionsly heading towards the ramp to the back. As he approaches the ramp, he made sure to go up the incline moving from left to right to show love to the people currently at Madison Square Garden. The ones that actually witnessed the MINISTER OF MASTERPIECES at work. His due dillegence. The needle moves when I decide it does after all. After finally getting closer to the curtain, he lets the reality of his physical and aging conditions actually show.

Father time is undefeated. 

He let the screaming blood he tried to conceal spill from his broken nose at the speed it wanted to. He let the finger that was ridiculously bitten orchestrate the song and numbness show that it was thirsty to do from the moments before. His left leg sorely aches and the bottom of his feet unapolegetically burn like he just played basketball for four to six hours in a pair of retro Chuck Taylors. Walk with me. He slowly limps towards his area, but he's passing many of the camera crew and other various behind the scenes cohorts.

"Hey, Goh, you okay?" says a random backstage member with pure concern and a rapport that exudes his honesty. His interest.

Saito had already passed the man, but looks back with a face of an eerie maroon and nothing close to a smile on his face. He's annoyed and would rather want to be alone. 

What people have to understand is that Saito is an elder to the wonderful world of wrestling. This, and matches like this, were never something that he'd practiced,  so it's not in his repurtiere to take on this style of reckless violence and lack of  any care. He's done plenty of professional wrestling circuits overseas - Japan, Africa, Norway, Arizona, London, Italy and a long list of others he really does try to remember in his off time, but can't. This is a help me help you agreement, right? OK. He's always prefered the toe drag over a tables match that he would deem foolish. It is just the sloppiness of it all that's so disgraceful. He's always stood in the conservative corner of the old school and the prestige that comes with the sport he's done for over 20 years. This is where the disconnect lies, Stabitha.

Saito nods and turns around before saying, "I am the DREAMCATCHER. Of course I'm alright." Sigh.This came across as rather odd to the backstage member who immediately got the attention of some of the individuals behind him to take a look at the physical condition of a man who clearly took more punishment than he would like to show. 

THE GUEST OF HONOR slowly makes his way down the corridor while knowing he needs to sit down. He takes a small break by leaning on the hallway wall while trying his best to stay upright. His face is utterly perplexed and resembling the innards of a cherry pie as the sweat leaks from his forehead, simple nose and scarred upper back. That's where he felt it most anyway. He removes the sweat dangling hair from his face with a quick swipe from the hand that wasn't bitten by a psychopath.

The concoction of blood and sweat hit the wall. 

A few randoms of your choice walk by noticing him without saying anything at all. They had their own family oriented obligations to do and contientious errands to take care of. After a brief stay, Saito finally reaches his wanted destination. The backstage room specifically meant for him and his belongings. It wasn't much bigger than an apartment's bathroom with a bath tub in it, but to him, it was an illustrious safe haven from the puny antics of others, annoying peers and the unforgiving media we have all become accustomed to today. He carefully enters and closes the door behind him softly. Click. He always has done that. He locks it immediately.

"This might be more than I can deal with.", he whispers internally while slowly positioning himself on the lone steel chair in the room containing posters of almost everyone who's been at the bottom rung staring. Short story - it was a dumpster fire. His essential needs were in an all black Bauer premium carry hockey bag which sat there unzipped in the corner of the room. 

He brings his elbows to his knees bending over. "Fuck...  what am I going to do? His body has already conceeded. Both ankles and knees ... "Lord, please help me. I'll just have to overwhelm Stabitha.. somehow.", he tells himself in a low and monotone voice everyone uses when talking to themselves. He faintly chuckles a little bit at himself for over thinking, but understands that his health is of prime importance if any of this meticulous dream can come to fruition.

Again.

"She thinks she's some mistress of evolution, but when you actually think about it she's more like an exaggerated web of lies. The nerve." he continues while standing up slowly. He turns left and takes a couple paces towards a slighly cracked full body mirror. He stretches his arms a few times and squats down to exert himself again, but in doing so, rolls to his back and is laying down flat now. Now staring at the blurry ceiling, the same one he knows he is in a nutshell.

More thoughts ensue. Blood is basically running into his eyes and mouth now and it forces him to become upright. He leans seated against the wall.

"Docs going to kill me.", he says out of complete despair. He looks down towards his lower body and realizes his knees are the size of ripe cantalopes. He exhales and then proceeds to lean forward and remove his wrestling gear from the knee down. He reaches over and grabs an ugly towel that was luckily within his radius. He wipes the sweat and blood off his face to the best of his ability while thinking of the days everything actually made sense. Selfishly, of course.

He's mumbling to himself at this point from pure exhaustion as if he's beligerently drunk. He does this more than he would like to admit or want the general public to even know. It helps him statistically process the subjective ecosystem he has decided to live in as age takes us all. "She thinks she's a radioactive dinosaur. I'm the catalyst. I'm the one that everyone is paying attention to because they want to see what wizardry I can create." he says silently again while massaging his left knee and trying his best to not touch his well broken nose.

Gone is the chivalry of yesteryear, but today, yes, today, all of you will feel me like your tabs just went up based on a mode of public transportation you've never used in your existence being built in your area. He stays silent for a moment and his phone trilling is what broke the Davinci Code. "What now?," he says while not moving a muscle.

Handle it later I guess.

The injuries. The legacy. The moonwalking pegasus that I am should never have his career ended short based on distress and utter negligence. The sad thing is, it looks like this flavorable eclipse is upon us. It looks like an unsufferable ballot has  already been voted on. I know me, but do I know my body, what my unforgettable charisma can actually take physically in a world where its basically anything goes?

DEFINITELY... because I'm the fucking DREAM CATCHER. She can try her best to fit a decommisioned submarine in a water balloon with her lofty asparations, bucket list items and generic approach towards the SULTAN. I don't care what any of you say. Or have to say. The delusion of you lot.

Saito calmly falls asleep in the room deticated for him backstage. He twitches a little from time to time, but knows deep down...

Her world wide denial tour starts right fucking now. Say hello to the future, your soon to be champion and let the many beautiful sunsets smile on you like you just recieved a compliment. 

Au revoir.