(It had been years since Eric Dillinger had first walked into that gym in San Diego. Located in Imperial Beach, Styles had once been THE place for aspiring wrestlers on the West Coast to flock to. Most notable had been the hardcore legend “Prime Time,” Johnny Rage. Johnny was a hold-over from previous, rougher generations that did anything they had to get over with the crowd. It was a time where men put their bodies and livelihood on the line so that they might sell a few more t-shirts, charge ten bucks for an autograph, or sell their tapes of matches in venues no casual fan had ever heard of.)
(Currently, the gym was doing everything it could to stay afloat. Where it once housed twenty to forty aspiring bruisers it now housed aerobics gear. Where the multiple rings used to be are where the children’s day care is. The blood-stained, blue mats, once used to teach punishing and nefarious take downs, had been thrown out with the glory this place once had held. It had become a neighborhood gym with professional wrestling classes on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and sometimes Saturdays.)
(Gone from the greater era was everything that had once made it great. Everything, except, that same hold-over from that rougher generation. Years past his prime, Johnny Rage looked out from the office window as his only pupil bounced from ropes to ropes before taking what the experts in the business referred to as a bump in the center of the ring. Coffee mug in hand, Johnny wore his khaki slacks and a red polo shirt with his hair combed back.)
(Behind him, sitting down, was an elderly gentleman. He looked down at the floor with a Padres baseball cap in his hand, hunched forward, elbows on his knees. The blue jeans he wore were stained much like the checkered past of Johnny Rage.)
Old Man: Fuck are you doing?
Johnny Rage: What?
Old Man: You know what. Still chasing it. Chasing the glory, chasing the fame, chasing the—
Johnny Rage: Not this again.
Old Man: Yes, this again. Ten years ago I handed over the reigns to the school, two years ago I told you to hang it up, and now this? Who is this kid?
Johnny Rage: You don’t know him like I do. You don’t see it.
Old Man: What’s there to see?
Johnny Rage: Are you serious? Can’t you see his size? The way he moves? That speed? Technique?
Old Man: Bah, every trainer thinks one of their students is going to be the next great one. The next Smamertino, Bogan, Burock—
Johnny Rage: Styles?
(The mention of the name stops the old man in his tracks. He grits his false teeth and grinds them in frustration and resentment.)
Old Man: Or the next Styles… but they never are, are they? Instead… they let you down. He will let you down, Johnny… Just like you did me.
(At this, the old man stands from his seat and makes his way out the door. He moves with a hobble and wince every other step as he goes. His body, decimated through years of battles long past, is just a shell of the proud form it once was. Johnny does not look at him as he goes, does not even make so much as a gesture toward him. Perhaps it was the stinging words he said, a past Johnny has yet to run away from, or a general disgust of what the old man used to represent.)
(“It doesn’t matter now,” he thought as he made his way out of the office and into the greater training facility. Passing over old-carpeted floors moved Johnny Rage through the sea of gym patrons barely able to reverse time in the manner which they had wished and straight to the ring. Tucked away in a back corner of the facility was Eric Dillinger, the wunderkind, still going through his drills. He wore green USMC silkies and white Chuck Taylors. His elbows bore a rug burn from where his form had gotten sloppy in past training sessions.)
Johnny Rage: That’s enough, kid. Hit the showers.
Eric Dillinger: Ok, Chief…
(The sarcasm was enough to elicit a chuckle from the trainer.)
Eric Dillinger: You keep doing that kinna talk and I’m not gonna know what to do with you, ol’ man.
Johnny Rage: Put me out of my misery.
Eric Dillinger: You? Nah, it’d be a waste.
Johnny Rage: Of?
Eric Dillinger: Of… Got me there.
(Johnny Rage chuckles and then motions for Dillinger to come to him. Eric complies and slips through the middle ropes where he collapses onto the ring apron. He leaves a large sweat imprint from where he momentarily touches the apron before sitting up.)
Johnny Rage: Now, this is your first chance at the big time--
Eric Dillinger: And your last chance at the big time.
Johnny Rage: Yea, something like that… But, look, you have to do what’s good for you. I want you to remember that. In this business, this industry, this sport… only you know what’s good Eric Dillinger. And what’s good for Eric Dillinger is making a good first impression.
Eric Dillinger: Thought you said only I know what’s good for me?
Johnny Rage: Shut-it.
(Dillinger chuckles before grabbing his Hi-Dro Flask and towel to head into the locker room. Unlike the old man, Johnny watched Dillinger as he made his way away. All he could think as he moved through that amalgam of a once great wrestling gym turned average joe hang out was this…)
-=CUT=-
www.viewtube.com/rockculturewrestling
NEW!!! Wrestlers jumping ship, UOW signs former legend
-=Skip to 7:56=-
(The sisterly duo of Harley and Audrie McLaughlin, paused, have an expression of laughter as they presumably move from one story to the next. Harley is in her usual Fox-News-esque skin-tight blue dress, hair straightened and pinned back to keep out of her face as Audrie is wearing a black SPRKK hoodie, black shirt, black jeans, and a blue bandana around her neck.)
-=Unpause=-
Harley McLaughlin: So… it looks like UOW has taken a risk recently in signing two new wrestlers to the roster.
Audrie McLaughlin: Yup. Eric Dillinger, an unknown to, well, everyone around the world outside of a few local shows in the San Diego area.
Harley McLaughlin: And the other, “Prime Time”—
Audrie McLaughlin: Or “Show Time,” for all you older folks—
Harley McLaughlin: Johnny Rage! Audrie… what is your take on all this?
Audrie McLaughlin: Hey, I grew up watching the guy when I was a kid and, as a fan, I am excited to see him step back in the ring. Hopefully, he’s kept up over the years. As we both know, these come backs are usually a mixed bag.
Harley McLaughlin: See Rob Harlin—
Audrie McLaughlin: Or Malice! With a newer, younger talent along for the ride I can see a successful tag run, but a singles run? I don’t see him ever regaining a top title like he did in his yesteryears.
Harley McLaughlin: And there is his checkered past to talk about and the reason he left wrestling. We’re not going to recount those stories as they’re well documented elsewhere in articles and videos on Rock Culture Wrestling. But one has to wonder if UOW is taking a risk here.
Audrie McLaughlin: We’re talking about the organization where members of the roster that has wracked up a large body count in its’ history. Remember that firing squad match?
Harley McLaughlin: Definitely not worried about the bad PR, but what there’s always the potential for any of that coming back up.
Audrie McLaughlin: Or something new?
Harley McLaughlin: We couldn’t know so we won’t speculate, but, man… if it were my organization—
Audrie McLaughlin: I know. You wouldn’t take the risk.
Harley McLaughlin: But UOW is a big bastard organization with big bastard money so we’ll just have to see how this plays out.
-=Pause, close the window, shut down.=-
(The video starts with a close up shot of Eric Dillinger momentarily reaching forward before sitting back into a chair. He wears a plain black t-shirt bearing a ghost logo holding a lightning bolt and a six pack of PBR. He’s visible only from the waist up and behind him is a plain white background. He’s well-lit and the reflection in his eyes gives the impression of a bright circle light holding his cell phone in the center before him. He lets out a big sigh as he smiles at the camera.)
Eric Dillinger: Well, it, uh… It’s finally happening. My first big break is happening and I am coming to the world of professional wrestling. That’s an over-statement. I’m not a total eff-en-gee. I’ve had the occasional indie match-up in between years of training, but this… This is my break into the big time and I could not be more excited about it because backing me up is one of the all time great, Show-Time Johnny Rage!
(Dillinger claps and feigns looking around the room like there are others with him in amazement.)
Eric Dillinger: For those of you who don’t remember Johnny Rage was the quintessential big man of the industry many moons back. He’s headlined in NYC, London, Jay-pan, and all over the world. Giant arenas, bingo halls, Heavyweight Titles, the man has done it all and for the past ten years he’s been giving back to the industry. For the past three, hell, he’s been training me. If I’m being totally honest, there’s not one person I would want more in my corner. There are all time greats and then there are legends and there is Johnny Rage.
Look who we’re taking on… a legend in her own right, Valora Salinas! It’s almost too bad that this is a handicap match because I would give my left nut to face her and the partner of her choosing in this outing. I don’t know the other two guys and, if I’m being honest, I could care less if they even showed up to team with Johnny and I. Don’t know them, don’t need their help because while Valora is great she CAN NOT stand up against the onslaught that is None More Black.
(Eric sits back in his chair, looks down for a moment, then crosses his arms and looks back into the camera. His demeanor changes from the cheerfulness it momentarily held and he gets serious. The tone in his voice drops and his eyes narrow.)
Eric Dillinger: Let me pose this question… Does anyone honestly think it is amateur hour with None More Black? There is a god damned reason Johnny and I tag together and that is because we gel together in that ring. Have you ever seen what an army of two can do between those ropes? I guarantee you, every single UWF fan, you are in for something you have not seen before. There has not been a team like us before and, long after we hang up our boots, there will not be another like us.
We are None More Black and we are tag team wrestling. Valora, I am sorry for what is about to befall you, but do not take it personal. I am a professional and, again, while you are great you are not special to me, to us.
You are just first.
(With that Eric leans forward again, arm outstretched, and cuts to black.)