"Crashing" // Chapter XI

"Crashing."
Chapter XI

The last week had gone by so fast, he couldn't recall a single significant event that had occured.

At least, he assumed it to be about a week. In truth, he wasn't quite sure about how much time had passed. What he did know, was that he had found his people! Issak Otto was now a known patron of The Watering Hole in Orlando, Florida. No matter what he was doing that day, no matter how far away he had gone, each night he would find himself right back in the same spot.

"I'm gonna need another tequila sunrise, Bobby. STAT!"

Issak shouted from the other end of the bar, slamming his glass down in front of him three times. The clinking of the glass against the wood rang out into the emptying bar room. Bobby, the bartender, was interrupted as he spoke to a group of three that were set up on the opposite side of the bar. Thanks to Bobby, Issak had discovered that he liked tequila, which in turn had created the monster that we see now.

Issak sat alone, and it was obviously the point in the night when he was losing his cool. Bobby glanced back at the babyfaced Issak, who sat looking somewhat disshevled. Bobby excused himself politely, snagging a hand towel on his way towards Issak.

"How many is that now, Issak?"

While his tone was ever-so-friendly and he chuckled as he said it, Bobby was really trying to judge whether or not he'd be able to serve Issak. Of course, Issak was still a bit naive to bar culture so he never really understood that part. Issak only knew it as their nightly banter, which should give you an idea on how much he's had to drink.

"Was I supposed to be counting?"

Otto joked back, picking up the empty glass and sliding it towards Bobby. He bobbed his head to the beat of the song that was playing on the jukebox. Bobby squinted his eyes, looking Issak up and down and trying his best to guage the situation. He reached forward, grabbing Issak's empty glass from him and sliding it into the nearby sink.

"I'll pour you one more, but you gotta call it quits after, alright?"

Bobby walked backwards over to the middle of the bar to begin Issak's new drink. He started by first grabbing a new glass, and moving on from there. Issak leaned over the bar, watching Bobby work his magic like he always did. Issak loved watching the different ingredients go in and mix together, and especially the different colors involved. His ran a hand through his hair, messing it up a little more without realizing it.

"Yeah yeah yeah, sure Bobby."

Issak brushed it off, always thinking Bobby to be yanking his chain or giving him a hard time. What Issak didn't realize is that Bobby was dead serious each night, Issak was never served beyond this point. The problem being of course that Issak could never recall anything beyond this point, meaning he never recalled that Bobby wasn't joking.

Issak was on cloud nine, living the dream inside his own mind. Bobby finished up the Tequila Sunrise, sliding it to the end of the bar where Issak was. Otto picked it up, first raising it into the air as if he was toasting to Bobby the Bartender. He followed this by bringing it to his lips and taking a long gulp off the straw.

The beginning beat of the new pop song, "Flowers" by Miley Cyrus begins to play through the jukebox, which gets Issak up off his barstool. He'd always been more of a fan of hip hop, but moving to America and out of the sticks of Scotland had given him more access to popular music. He wasn't aware of the words, so he found himself making songs, drinking from his straw, and dancing around. That's when it all came crashing down.

But for real, that's when he fell on his ass in the middle of the dance floor.

The glass holding the Tequila Sunrise smashed on the hard flooring, small bits scattering every which way. Naturally, the floor was also covered in the liquid that was inside of the glass, and Issak was layed out. The loud crash startled everyone, causing several heads to turn his way. Actually, it was every head that was left in the bar. Bobby was concerned, trying to peer over the bar to where Issak had landed.

"Issak did you skip dinner again, damnit!"

Bobby yelled, trying his best to get a good angle but wasn't having much luck. Luckily, Issak popped up a moment later, his white button down shirt now stained a blood orange color.

"I'm good, I'm sooooooper good!"

Just like "the Rated R Soooooperstar"! Do you know what I'm saying? Okay, nevermind, anyway. He tip-toed across the dance floor and away from the mess he had caused, like something straight out of a comedy film. Difference being that Bobby was not laughing, nor was anyone else around. A couple patrons nearby assisted in moving Issak back to the barstool that he was originally sitting on. Bobby was finally able to make his way out from behind the bar to check on Issak. He was the first to see the cuts on Issak's hands from pushing up on the broken glass. He reached over and across the bar, grabbing a damp bar towel from the side.

"Yeah let's call the cab early tonight."

He said this to Issak, almost as if he expected Issak to answer, but they both knew that he wouldn't. At this point, they both knew this wasn't even a question. Issak sat on the stool, feeling a bit embarassed and shamed, even though Bobby assured him that everything was alright and that nobody was angry. Eventually the cab would come and take him back home, where he'd fall asleep with all his clothes on, barely making it through the door.

Tomorrow he'd be back like nothing happened.

"Two weeks ago, Victory XIX. My first match since losing my opportunity at the Excellence Championship.

I've heard all the comments surrounding my match, and how at times, I seemed almost a different person. Even leading up to the match itself, my words sounded like they came from someone else's mouth. Since Magnificence, I've dealt with a lot of inner turmoil and I know that it has shown itself in my actions since that time. I've been distant, I've been moody, I've been the furthest thing from the chipper young gun that people know Issak Otto as. Despite these questions of selth worth, I managed to have a triumphant triple threat and walk out with my hand raised at the end.

I walked through the curtain, and some of the backstage crew smacked me on the back, telling me I'm right back to climbing the ladder...that I shouldn't beat myself up.

The thing is, I've already been here. I've already climbed the ladder, and proved myself as a top competitor here. Despite what certain characters would have you believe, my in-ring record here shows just how consistant and driven I've been since coming back to the wrestling business. It shows just how hard I've put my nose to the grind to make it up the ladder and you're telling me that I've got to prove myself all over again? When others would have you believe I didn't even accomplish it the first time? I just...I'm just done with climbing ladders.

You could win every match you've ever had, knock down every obstacle in your way, and it still isn't going to get you into their good graces. I can only be myself, that's all I can be. But apparently that's just not enough.

Don't think I haven't heard the questions, the concerns, especially for those that saw the match two weeks ago. They told me I was more aggressive, I seemed angry. Maybe they had a point, I let the frustration and anger get the better of me. No, I'm not over it but I know better than to allow personal feelings to effect me in-ring. I've always been someone that wears my emotions on my sleeve, but for that I feel somewhat embarassed.

I wanted to apologize to my opponents, Donatella and Kim, I certainly mean you no ill will or harm, that's not who I am inside or outside the ring. I'm not going to deny that something came over me, but I am going to do my absolute best to ensure it doesn't happen again."

He gave a pause, nodding his head.

"Blaze Darling, I see a lot of myself in you.

I see you put on a smile no matter what you're going up against, and no matter the situation you're in, you still have hope. That's exactly what Issak Otto has always been about. But what happens when everything doesn't work out, tied together with a perfect bow? What do you do when you keep striving and clawing, but you just can't seem to reach that pinnacle.

I didn't join this sport simply for the gold, I joined for the love of wrestling. However, in the industry we're in, it's difficult not to tie your worth to how many accoaldes you've managed to hold. Even Professional Wrestling Excellence posts an Honor Roll for each show, lets us know which competitor is selling the most merch, so on and so forth. There's so much pressure on you to do more, to be more. It's difficult not to lose some of yourself in all that from time to time.

I'm sure you don't know very much about that just yet, that's alright.

Beyond that, I'm actually glad it's you I'm in the ring with. I've had too many ego driven individuals for my own liking lately. You're driven more on competition, and a competition is what you're going to get. You're yearning for that in-ring experience, those matchups that'll bring you to the brink of your abilities, and teach you something new.

You're young, and new in the business by barely a year, right? Maybe not even a year. Wow, to be that young and eager again."

Issak chuckled. He placed his right hand behind his head, giving it a scratch. It seemed so long ago.

"But given that you are so young, and so new to the business, I understand why you haven't had much success. A Tag Team Championship is nothing to be shamed of, especially in your first year. It's mighty impressive you managed to capture anything at all and should be proud of yourself for that. It just makes sense that when faced with adversity above a certain level, that you would struggle a bit. You're still perfecting your craft, after all.

Knowing that, isn't going to make me go easy on you. In fact, it's going to make me work that much harder to give you the match of your career! Even though you're in your rookie year, I know that you enjoy being a technical wrestling. I'll make sure to test you to the best of your ability when it comes to your technical prowess.

But I also want to warn you not to get your hopes up. At the end of the match, I do plan on ending it with a win over you. Anything can happen in the ring, but I wouldn't be much of a journeyman wrestler if I was having a technical battle with a rookie and managed to be beaten. Whether it be by pin or by submission, I'm still going to defeat you, Blaze. For if I were to ever let you win, what would that teach you. what would you learn from that?

I guess you could look at this as a case of not taking my own advice. I'll admit that some people may draw similarities, but the situation is much more nuanced than that.

You're going to do great things, Blaze. I know that I'm going to be hearing your name for a long time to come. But those great things won't occur at Victory XX, and not at my expense. Not matter how much I respect you, I'm still going to make sure that it's my name announced at the end."

With every night ending the same, came every morning that began the same. Although he'd only remember bits and pieces of them as well, every night he dreamt of PWE. Tonight, JMont was following Allen around backstage with one of those 90's disc shooters, only small hot dogs were being blasted out of it. Vhodka Black's face was on multiple posters plastered down the hall, pointing and laughing at Allen. Next to the Vhodka Black posters were posters of Damian Ayla, wagging a finger towards Vhodka. The entire thing was completely absurd and had absolutely nothing to do with real life. It was probably one of Issak's more tame dreams.

A splitting headache that woke him up as soon as the light was able to hit his eyelids. Usually the shutting of the blinds would buy him some extra time, but this morning was much different. Soon after Issak closed his blinds to block all light, came the sound of a door closing within his apartment. It felt as if he had taken a shot of adreneline, the feeling soaring through his bloodstream.

"Issak, what the hell, are you kidding? You were supposed to meet me at the airport, dude. Did you forget again?!"

The large and booming voice of the Kiwi mountain man came echoing through his halls, and Otto instantly sat up in bed. There wasn't really any hiding what had happened. One smell of his breath and Carson would know, Issak was caught red handed. There was no denying it. Carson Campbell took a look at the scene before him, and he didn't even need to ask any questions. Issak looked like hell, there wasn't any more proof needed.

"You've got a match in a few days and you've been drinking like a fish. You're still on with this?"

His deep voice was fire to Issak's head, and in response, he covered his ears. Carson wasn't having any of it, visibly annoyed. More than simply picking him up from the airport, was that the duo was supposed to train today. Carson had torn his ACL several months ago and was just now being able to move in the ring closer to how he did. Issak had agreed to help him, and had completely messed up the entire thing. Carson was going to make him follow through with it though.

"Nah, you know what. You're still coming. You're not gonna bail on me for being hungover."

Carson shakes his head, mumbling a couple other things to himself as Issak tries to bury himself in pillows and blankets. Every moment Issak was fighting against throwing up, and Carson wanted him to get up and go train. Like that was going to happen. Issak wasn't betting on the fact that Carson wanted Issak to puke. Every up and coming wrestler has a moment when they went out when they shouldn't have, had training the next day and puked.

Campbell shuffled over to the double doors that lead to Issak's closet, quickly walking in and picking a shirt a random. It didn't really matter to him which shirt was chosen. Next he walked over to the dresser, sliding open a couple drawers until he found the one containing something resembling basketball shorts. Then, he thrusts them downwards into the pile, most likely colliding somewhere between Issak's gut and nether region by the sound of the grunt that followed.

A moment later, Issak threw the pillows and blanket off the top portion of his body, gazing with an arched eyebrow at the clothes that Carson had chosen. Now that he knew where his body parts lie, Carson yanked him up to his feet, before making him hold the pair of clothes he'd gotten for him.

Groaning, "I can't do it, Carson. I'm sorry, I feel like death."

Otto trotted forward, before faceplanting back onto the bed while still holding the clothes, effectively smashing them against the bed with him. Carson starred at Issak's back, almost at a loss of words but only as far as the expression goes. Really, he had a lot he wanted to say to Issak in this moment but he wasn't sure how to say it.

"You need to knock this off, Issak. I don't know who this person is."

He pointed towards Issak on the bed, looking rather pathetic just lying there refusing to follow through on something he'd committed to. In this state, he resembled a child more than ever. Carson had never remembered a time he was truly disappointed in Issak. Sure, back in the JCP days and even over in Scotland, there may have been a time when Otto had tripped up somehow, cost them a match. But that wasn't even something that stuck out in his memory when he thought of his friend. No, this easily trumped any of that.

Carson left his bedroom, his big footsteps on the wood floors booming through the house as he walked down the hall. Issak knew he hadn't left, because there wasn't the sound of a closing door. On top of that, there was the feint sound of someone ruffling through things. It took some time, but eventually Carson returned to the bedroom.

"I'm going to be at the gym if you feel up to joining me. If you're keeping your ass here..."

A heavy box came crashing down on top of Issak, who grunts out loud. Partially from pain and partially from surprise. Otto sat up in his bed again, peering through the box that Carson had grabbed. It was one of the memorabilia boxes that had been tucked away when Issak moved into his next apartment a little over a month ago. There were various video tapes, medals and the like that the box had collected. It was almost his entire life in a box, everything he'd worked for.

"Maybe these will remind you of who you are."