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beansideWhoa. And I thought these muses were dead and buried. *shrug* Ah well.
Title: Here and Now
Rating: PG-13 (*gasp*)
Disclaimer: This didn't happen. I make no claims about the people depicted herein. I just like to write down my dreams.
So, this is where it ends up? What a let down.
So much for the notorious, much feared Kliq. Here we are, scattered to the four corners of the States, still a phone call away, but we'll all be damned if we pick up the phone.
No one's going to be the first to break the silence.
Even if it cripples us all.
There's the deepest truth of the Kliq, even now. We're still stronger together than we are apart. Even Hunter, the Game, can't stand alone. The various factions we've all come up with along the way--Wolfpack, Dx, nWo, they've all been something to fill the hole.
It's only real when the five of us are there.
We had it, for all of a week. That brief, shining moment, when we were talking about having Shawn put in the nWo, and Hunter was backstage. For one week, we thought we were going to have something special. Then, Vince pulled the rug out from under us.
In the blink of an eye, Scott was gone, and Sean was pissed.
I don't remember the last time I saw Sean like that. It scared the hell out of me. Under the anger, there was this total despair. He knew there was no way he was getting a push. Ever.
After five years, Vince managed to do what Eric never did. He broke something in Sean. A broken neck didn't keep him down, but this did. For years, he was the entry feud for the newly acquired stars, the one who could be trusted to teach them how to work the WWF style of wrestling, to keep it interesting while the new talent was learning.
And over and over, he watched the people he'd trained--people with half his talent--go onto title after title, while he stayed stuck firmly in the lower-midcard.
I think it was when Jericho got the world title that he broke. Sean hates Jericho with a passion, but he did his job, worked his ass off to make sure that he'd be ready. And all he got out of it was a re-injured neck that put him out for six months.
Jericho got the Intercontinental title.
Sean's biggest singles title win was the European title. He won the tag team titles with Glenn, and god, he was so happy. Their partnership and ensuing feud was the best angle he'd ever gotten.
He thought we were going that way again when we came back. Instead, it ended his time with the WWE, and nearly broke him.
Go Kliq.
And god, Scott. He'd come so far, and now all his hard work is gone, like that. I really thought he had a chance to rebuild his life. I really thought he could do it. I thought we were invincible, that, let the chips fall where they may, we'd still be standing.
I was so wrong.
The chips are still falling, but Scott's on the floor among them.
In a few more months, we'll know just how much Scott has lost. His kids, most likely--maybe more.
I haven't talked to him in a month.
There's a killer. We used to talk two or three times a day, but it's just another casualty of the Kliq fall out.
He sided with Sean in the whole Joanie mess, and that was that. I called her a whore, and a parasite. He hung up on me.
It's just too weird--I mean, we've swapped groupies, but she was Hunter's fiancee! Now, she's Sean's. It's too fucked up, even for us.
And here I am. Sitting at my dining room table with a bottle of bourbon and a six pack of ginger ale. Oh, the glamour.
And why, you may ask, am I working on getting drunk? It's PPV night. Shawn's wrestling. That's more than enough, thank you.
I remember all the times I'd chat with Sean and Scott on the phone during these, mocking the fuck ups, cheering the Kliq members.
Now, I watch it alone, with a few stiff drinks.
Shawn's playing a nice live action game of Russian Roulette with his back these days. I don't know what he thinks he's proving. Everyone knows that he's the best, but he seems bound and determined to leave his mark one more time.
It's like watching a slow motion snuff film. Eventually, the odds are going to catch up, and Shawn'll go down.
The only question is how far he's going to fall. With his back, there's really only two choices.
Paralyzation, to one level or another, or death. Great choices, aren't they?
I know it haunts all of us. It was one thing when he was against Hunter. Even if Hunter does have his head so far up his own ass, he'd take care of Shawn. But that feud is over. Now he's against Jericho. Hello, ulcer.
The PPV starts, and I start drinking. It's a perverse drinking game, I have to admit. Every time Hunter puts himself over, you chug. Every time Vince puts himself over, take a shot. If I chugged for that, I'd be blacking out by the second match. Every time Shawn scares the fuck out of me, chug. If JR refers to the carnage, take a shot. If King says puppies, take two shots. If JR reminds us that "that's a human being!" finish the glass.
The first few matches aren't horrible. Really WWE's got a strong undercard roster. If they'd push some of them, we might be doing better in the ratings.
Then, it's Shawn's turn. Fuck, I hate this.
The match is wonderful, which isn't a shock. You've got two guys who are more than willing to work, and who know how to entertain.
Shawn's still a thing of beauty to watch. If it weren't for the fear, I'd love his matches.
Sleek, strong, beautiful. Fuck. I shouldn't still be thinking that. He's got a wife, a kid. I shouldn't be thinking about things that are in the past.
The long and varied history of the Kliq.
"Oh my God!" JR screams abruptly.
My eyes snap back to the screen. Shawn's down. Not moving. Fuck!
Jericho isn't kicking him, isn't doing anything but staring and holding his arm. A moment later, they go into the replay, and I see why. Shawn was going for a flying splash off the top rope. Jericho was going to block it with his knees. Easy move. But Shawn's foot slipped, and he went down awkwardly, hit Jericho's knees with his side and back, then bounced back and slammed his head into Jericho's elbow.
It looks horrible.
Shawn's not moving.
They cut to a quick promo about the upcoming match, and I gimp my way over to the bathroom, emptying the alcohol out of my stomach.
Oh shit.
Oh fuck.
Oh God.
I glance at my ceiling, like He's somehow there. "Look, I know we're not on the greatest of terms, okay. You don't believe in us, I don't believe in you. But, Shawn? He does. He buys into all your crap. So fucking help him out, okay?"
After the promo is over, they come back to a strained looking JR. He informs us that Paramedics are working on Shawn, and as soon as he's been cleared out of the ring, they'll continue with the show. In the mean time, we'll get to watch this great video montage of Hogan vs. Vince.
I can't take this. If I wasn't already gray, this would cinch it.
This is agony. I need to know, but Hunter's cell is busy, and no one's answering Shawn's.
We finish the montage, and head back to the ring with JR's assurance that as soon as we know something about Shawn, he'll let us know.
Next up, we get to watch the Hurricane in action! Whoohoo.
I dial Hunter's cell again, and get "The cellular customer you are trying to reach is either out of the area, or has their cell phone turned off" message.
I'm halfway through calling Hunt every name in the book when my phone rings.
"Hunter?"
"Try again," a familiar voice replies.
I blink, staring at the receiver. "Sean?"
"Yeah. Look, I just wanted to let you know that Shawn's okay. Well, he might have a concussion, which is why they're going to take him to the hospital, but the back is fine. He's up and around. They're going to make an angle out of it, so JR won't be saying much on air."
"How did you find that out?"
"I called Miss Cleo," he deadpans.
I can't help the laugh that slips out.
"I called Hunter," he says, voice soft. "He had to get ready for his match, so I told him I'd call everyone. So, consider yourself called."
He's going to hang up if I don't say something. I haven't talked to him in three months. "Sean, wait a second. Please."
"Yeah?" God, he still sounds so young, that touch of hope in his voice.
"Don't hang up."
"Okay."
He's quiet, and I realize that's all he's willing to say. He'll give me the opening, but he's not making it easier for me. I don't know what to say.
"Thanks for the briefing," he says wryly, and I realize that I said it out loud.
"I don't. I mean, I can tell you that I want things to go back like they were, but I don't think that's enough."
"No, it's really not."
"I'm sorry. I didn't have any right to talk about Jo like that. She really hurt Hunter, but I know he's not a saint. I put one loyalty above another, and I shouldn't have."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
He's quiet for a moment. "How's Tristan?"
"Good. How're yours?"
"Pretty good. Jesse's pissed at me, but I expected that. I didn't mean to hurt them, but it happens. Kind of like us."
I wince a little. "Yeah, Trist went through that whole stage where Daddy was the enemy. They forgive though. They grow."
"Much better than us, then."
"Yeah."
He pauses. "I'm doing a show in Pensacola next week. You wanna have lunch?"
I'm pretty sure I'm smiling like a dork. "Sounds good."
"Great. I'll call you when I get in town, we can decide where to hook up." He's quiet for a moment. "Kev?" he asks softly, voice a little shaky.
"Yeah, kid?" I'm not any better in the voice department.
The laugh the nickname gets me might just be closer to a sob. "I've missed you."
"Me too, kid. Me too." I hang up, a real smile on my lips for the first time in months. Maybe there's still hope after all.
Title: Here and Now
Rating: PG-13 (*gasp*)
Disclaimer: This didn't happen. I make no claims about the people depicted herein. I just like to write down my dreams.
So, this is where it ends up? What a let down.
So much for the notorious, much feared Kliq. Here we are, scattered to the four corners of the States, still a phone call away, but we'll all be damned if we pick up the phone.
No one's going to be the first to break the silence.
Even if it cripples us all.
There's the deepest truth of the Kliq, even now. We're still stronger together than we are apart. Even Hunter, the Game, can't stand alone. The various factions we've all come up with along the way--Wolfpack, Dx, nWo, they've all been something to fill the hole.
It's only real when the five of us are there.
We had it, for all of a week. That brief, shining moment, when we were talking about having Shawn put in the nWo, and Hunter was backstage. For one week, we thought we were going to have something special. Then, Vince pulled the rug out from under us.
In the blink of an eye, Scott was gone, and Sean was pissed.
I don't remember the last time I saw Sean like that. It scared the hell out of me. Under the anger, there was this total despair. He knew there was no way he was getting a push. Ever.
After five years, Vince managed to do what Eric never did. He broke something in Sean. A broken neck didn't keep him down, but this did. For years, he was the entry feud for the newly acquired stars, the one who could be trusted to teach them how to work the WWF style of wrestling, to keep it interesting while the new talent was learning.
And over and over, he watched the people he'd trained--people with half his talent--go onto title after title, while he stayed stuck firmly in the lower-midcard.
I think it was when Jericho got the world title that he broke. Sean hates Jericho with a passion, but he did his job, worked his ass off to make sure that he'd be ready. And all he got out of it was a re-injured neck that put him out for six months.
Jericho got the Intercontinental title.
Sean's biggest singles title win was the European title. He won the tag team titles with Glenn, and god, he was so happy. Their partnership and ensuing feud was the best angle he'd ever gotten.
He thought we were going that way again when we came back. Instead, it ended his time with the WWE, and nearly broke him.
Go Kliq.
And god, Scott. He'd come so far, and now all his hard work is gone, like that. I really thought he had a chance to rebuild his life. I really thought he could do it. I thought we were invincible, that, let the chips fall where they may, we'd still be standing.
I was so wrong.
The chips are still falling, but Scott's on the floor among them.
In a few more months, we'll know just how much Scott has lost. His kids, most likely--maybe more.
I haven't talked to him in a month.
There's a killer. We used to talk two or three times a day, but it's just another casualty of the Kliq fall out.
He sided with Sean in the whole Joanie mess, and that was that. I called her a whore, and a parasite. He hung up on me.
It's just too weird--I mean, we've swapped groupies, but she was Hunter's fiancee! Now, she's Sean's. It's too fucked up, even for us.
And here I am. Sitting at my dining room table with a bottle of bourbon and a six pack of ginger ale. Oh, the glamour.
And why, you may ask, am I working on getting drunk? It's PPV night. Shawn's wrestling. That's more than enough, thank you.
I remember all the times I'd chat with Sean and Scott on the phone during these, mocking the fuck ups, cheering the Kliq members.
Now, I watch it alone, with a few stiff drinks.
Shawn's playing a nice live action game of Russian Roulette with his back these days. I don't know what he thinks he's proving. Everyone knows that he's the best, but he seems bound and determined to leave his mark one more time.
It's like watching a slow motion snuff film. Eventually, the odds are going to catch up, and Shawn'll go down.
The only question is how far he's going to fall. With his back, there's really only two choices.
Paralyzation, to one level or another, or death. Great choices, aren't they?
I know it haunts all of us. It was one thing when he was against Hunter. Even if Hunter does have his head so far up his own ass, he'd take care of Shawn. But that feud is over. Now he's against Jericho. Hello, ulcer.
The PPV starts, and I start drinking. It's a perverse drinking game, I have to admit. Every time Hunter puts himself over, you chug. Every time Vince puts himself over, take a shot. If I chugged for that, I'd be blacking out by the second match. Every time Shawn scares the fuck out of me, chug. If JR refers to the carnage, take a shot. If King says puppies, take two shots. If JR reminds us that "that's a human being!" finish the glass.
The first few matches aren't horrible. Really WWE's got a strong undercard roster. If they'd push some of them, we might be doing better in the ratings.
Then, it's Shawn's turn. Fuck, I hate this.
The match is wonderful, which isn't a shock. You've got two guys who are more than willing to work, and who know how to entertain.
Shawn's still a thing of beauty to watch. If it weren't for the fear, I'd love his matches.
Sleek, strong, beautiful. Fuck. I shouldn't still be thinking that. He's got a wife, a kid. I shouldn't be thinking about things that are in the past.
The long and varied history of the Kliq.
"Oh my God!" JR screams abruptly.
My eyes snap back to the screen. Shawn's down. Not moving. Fuck!
Jericho isn't kicking him, isn't doing anything but staring and holding his arm. A moment later, they go into the replay, and I see why. Shawn was going for a flying splash off the top rope. Jericho was going to block it with his knees. Easy move. But Shawn's foot slipped, and he went down awkwardly, hit Jericho's knees with his side and back, then bounced back and slammed his head into Jericho's elbow.
It looks horrible.
Shawn's not moving.
They cut to a quick promo about the upcoming match, and I gimp my way over to the bathroom, emptying the alcohol out of my stomach.
Oh shit.
Oh fuck.
Oh God.
I glance at my ceiling, like He's somehow there. "Look, I know we're not on the greatest of terms, okay. You don't believe in us, I don't believe in you. But, Shawn? He does. He buys into all your crap. So fucking help him out, okay?"
After the promo is over, they come back to a strained looking JR. He informs us that Paramedics are working on Shawn, and as soon as he's been cleared out of the ring, they'll continue with the show. In the mean time, we'll get to watch this great video montage of Hogan vs. Vince.
I can't take this. If I wasn't already gray, this would cinch it.
This is agony. I need to know, but Hunter's cell is busy, and no one's answering Shawn's.
We finish the montage, and head back to the ring with JR's assurance that as soon as we know something about Shawn, he'll let us know.
Next up, we get to watch the Hurricane in action! Whoohoo.
I dial Hunter's cell again, and get "The cellular customer you are trying to reach is either out of the area, or has their cell phone turned off" message.
I'm halfway through calling Hunt every name in the book when my phone rings.
"Hunter?"
"Try again," a familiar voice replies.
I blink, staring at the receiver. "Sean?"
"Yeah. Look, I just wanted to let you know that Shawn's okay. Well, he might have a concussion, which is why they're going to take him to the hospital, but the back is fine. He's up and around. They're going to make an angle out of it, so JR won't be saying much on air."
"How did you find that out?"
"I called Miss Cleo," he deadpans.
I can't help the laugh that slips out.
"I called Hunter," he says, voice soft. "He had to get ready for his match, so I told him I'd call everyone. So, consider yourself called."
He's going to hang up if I don't say something. I haven't talked to him in three months. "Sean, wait a second. Please."
"Yeah?" God, he still sounds so young, that touch of hope in his voice.
"Don't hang up."
"Okay."
He's quiet, and I realize that's all he's willing to say. He'll give me the opening, but he's not making it easier for me. I don't know what to say.
"Thanks for the briefing," he says wryly, and I realize that I said it out loud.
"I don't. I mean, I can tell you that I want things to go back like they were, but I don't think that's enough."
"No, it's really not."
"I'm sorry. I didn't have any right to talk about Jo like that. She really hurt Hunter, but I know he's not a saint. I put one loyalty above another, and I shouldn't have."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
He's quiet for a moment. "How's Tristan?"
"Good. How're yours?"
"Pretty good. Jesse's pissed at me, but I expected that. I didn't mean to hurt them, but it happens. Kind of like us."
I wince a little. "Yeah, Trist went through that whole stage where Daddy was the enemy. They forgive though. They grow."
"Much better than us, then."
"Yeah."
He pauses. "I'm doing a show in Pensacola next week. You wanna have lunch?"
I'm pretty sure I'm smiling like a dork. "Sounds good."
"Great. I'll call you when I get in town, we can decide where to hook up." He's quiet for a moment. "Kev?" he asks softly, voice a little shaky.
"Yeah, kid?" I'm not any better in the voice department.
The laugh the nickname gets me might just be closer to a sob. "I've missed you."
"Me too, kid. Me too." I hang up, a real smile on my lips for the first time in months. Maybe there's still hope after all.
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Date: 2003-03-18 06:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-18 07:05 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2003-03-20 09:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-21 08:46 am (UTC)Missy
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Date: 2003-03-21 09:18 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked!
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Date: 2003-03-21 12:00 pm (UTC)And we do miss you much around the fandom, of course :-)
wL,
Missy
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Date: 2003-03-21 12:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-21 12:23 pm (UTC)I'll be sure to feedback on Sunday :-)
WL,
Missy