Can't Believe You...

[turbo]

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Following: The Return to Form

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Roman about wanted to bounce his head off of the wall. "You want to tell me what the FUCK you were thinking?!?!"

"Roman, relax..." stated "Turbo." "Make sure that door's locked unless you want to reveal more than I just did."

"It's been fucking locked..." Roman stammered, pounding a meaty fist on the wall. "What, in the, fuck... may I ask again, was that? I signed you, talked all the bullshit past your now-boss, through all of the lover-scorn bullshit, through all of the heartache that she'd grew the past year, through the ani-fuckin'-mosity of the entire ordeal to sign you. To make you the "big surprise." And you just go, talk openly about your past, run down someone that you've feuded with in the past that we discussed is NOWHERE near your goals in this company aside from the match you were put in... then you cap it all FUCKING off with your FUCKING THEME SONG?!?"

Turbo said nothing. The stylist they had privately hired was removing the scraggly, months-old beard he'd grown. Returning it to his previous, thin beard style he employed most of his days in the squared circle.

"Fucking Christ, I almost wish I kept up with law-school because any brain dead defendant would be MUCH EASIER than dealing with your desire to be public all the fucking time bullshit!"

"Roman, after today, you're fired." Turbo said calmly. It wasn't that Roman wouldn't expect it. The talk of him being gone after Turbo had unveiled himself was consistent through the months. "So, just relax, make yourself a drink. Watch the magic happen. It's been a full year, new people are here. A lot that don't even know me. The more the smark whispers can get out there to spread, the more they'll know just exactly what they're in for when I bitch smack the living hell out of Massey. So fucking cool it."

"You're impossible..." Roman stated, storming away to another part of the privately leased locker room within the arena. Turbo's hair had started to be trimmed from the long mess that it was.

"How long you say it need be, Mister? You spike, right?"

"Not long. Like this..." he said, pulling out an old magazine cover. His ex-fiance's face was on that image too, a reminder to him to keep his eyes on what matters most. His career, not some gold-digging power whore.

"Yes, sir..." she said through her thick accent, continuing her work on making Turbo-Negro go away, and the man that he always has been, make his grand return.

[The Golden Prodigy]

and then...

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

It was thunderous. Almost as thunderous and loud as the murmurs between people about the man beyond the mask of "Turbo-Negro"

[turbo]

"JESUS! WHAT THE FUCK!!!" A startled Roman shouted. Instinctively, Turbo moved his head from the shears, lest they go in too far by a startled stylish.

"Roman, I swear to God if I have to go back to that buzzed haircut look because you're having a freaking heart attack over the door knocking, I will finish you."

"What-fuckin'-Ever..."

"You gonna answer it or what?"

"You gonna put your helmet on?"

"What's the point with the tattoo out and about too? It's pretty distinguishable. Answer the door. I've got a guest coming..."

Roman looked at him with a blank, I want to fucking strangle you, look on his face, before slowly walking towards the door. He cracks it open, taking a peak around. Only one man.

"Knock the fat guy over if he doesn't let you in..." Turbo shouted toward the door, which cleared Roman out of the way to allow it to be entered through...

[The Golden Prodigy]

and in he walked, the sly smile across his face as he elbows "the fat guy" in the side jokingly as he passes.

HOLY SHIT IT'S A POWER RANGER!! Tommy.. is that you? Was kim a good lay...
what am I saying, we'd both know, and we both know she couldn't have been, or she'd still be walking funny

An inside joke between the two yet to debut men. If only people knew.

Haven't seen ya in ages "negro", can I call you negro? Is that a racist term? Fuck it, whatever, who cares, we're backstage, nobody can see us, or hear us. But ya man, been AGES since we've been in the same place at the same time. What's it been, almost a good two years? Going on three? Regardless, we're both sittin high and mighty on some good pay now aren't we.

lowering his voice so it's just between them

What's with the fat guy?

[turbo]

"My agent I hired with some of the remainder of my cash. I'm at the point where I need the job now... since my little injury, then cover-up so I get left the fuck alone. But, hey..."

He looks around the room... "It's nice to know you've bought a place for you to go to work in some kind of morbid way, isn't it? At least that money was put to good use." He motioned to the other couch in the room.

"Take a load off. Probably been a long drive, hasn't it?"

[The Golden Prodigy]

You have no idea *taking a seat* The way this economy is going, it's a good thing your money is in this. Atleast you can turn a profit out of it. I'm just thankful I still have a place to work. God forbid I get hurt and forced into full retirement. Can't rely on the world of wrestling anymore. Too many new kids coming in and walking all over the work people like us put into building the industry to what it is. They think, just because they're fresh out of school, and have some talent, that they can take the jobs away from us.

He leans back, resting his head on the back of the couch, letting out a sigh

I'm only twenty five years old man. Twenty five and considered old school, and out of touch with the way things go now. God forbid I use what little youth I got in these bones, to take a run at a belt though. I'll have every kid with an unoriginal gimmick and look pointing out my past saying I live in it too much. Christ, it's only been 2 years since my last BIG title reign, and that one lasted close to a year. But no, that don't mean a thing anymore. Now we have our Atlantas, New Yorks, Ohios, Detroits, Chicagos, and Japan now.

We've gone back to territories, like the old days. So a champ here, is only as good as the companys standing with the other places. You or I could be the champ of this place, and New York will have someone who claims to be better, then Atlantas champ will speak up and say he is. Just for once, I wish there was a way to just say
"I'm the world champion, and that makes me equal to the others" without getting shit on, or paper cups tossed at me.

He sits forward, looking at "Negro"

Guess this is the same conversation the guys we replaced had as we were coming into the buisiness. Just a vicious circle... only good enough till a younger version comes along and pushes you out...

[turbo]

Turbo grunted. He only wished he could say that he owned this place. The cash handed out were similar to gifts... he benefits from them in no way. He didn't even bother having Roman try that out of Amanda when everything was all settled.

"I just turned 25 myself. And I know how it goes. Fortunately, I, probably like you, have been champion in all of those places. Would have been Ohio if I stuck around too. But, them's the days, and they're not around anymore. Only way to keep doing it is to keep on going on... and maybe, one day, people can put the differences aside to actually sign the matches to determine the absolute best. Whenever that is."

He watches the stylist nearing completion on his hair, shaving off the long locks before taking scissors to fine tune it. "Hell, you know what I've said and done these past months, how I covered my absence while I fix this damn neck. Makes you think for a bit, that as much bickering and bullshit and unoriginality that comes your way... none of it matters had that been true, you know? It's still going to exist, and it's still going to happen at an absurdly increasing rate. You wonder why guys keep getting glass ceiling'd when they think that the world should just be handed over... *sigh*"

[The Golden Prodigy]

There will always be guys and girls like that. Unfortunately, they refuse to follow the example some of us have set before them. So they want to "make new heights" and achieve things faster. All the while they're stepping on everyone on the way up, that they'll have to face on the way down aswell. Something that Mr Starr seems to be noticing for himself these days.

Ofcourse, he's still climbing up, the others are just cutting the legs out from the bottom so they can be at the same level, without the work. Poor guy, all that he's done, and just because Avenger managed to beat him twice for the belt, nobody respects him anymore. I've beat bigger names, held more gold, have more fans, but still, I get the same thing. But that's why I'm here now, to dispel those false rumors and shut some mouths up while I'm still capable.

[turbo]

"Almost to the point that in the end, it's almost like flogging a dead horse, isn't it?" A sort of dismal outlook from the man that was considered one of the greats in his time... "Only for history to repeat itself again, for those comments and thoughts about you to need to be dispelled again and again until the end of your days?

It's all about today, man. Sounds like your eyes are as opened as mine. This is your job, your dream, and you're only to it what you make yourself to be. Some asshole's always going to have the final opinions..." The stylist finishes up on his hair to a swift thumbs up from him, his look complete, "Because they'll be talking long after you're gone. Retirement, injury, or death... just because they can use your name as a stepping stone.

At least the pay is good even while they do that."

He reaches to the Turbo helmet, looking at it as a knock comes at the door. "Mr. Turbo? Five minutes."

"While I'll be dispelling some rumors, I'm also going to go and have some fun doing what I'm best at. And? This helmet stays at the entrance way... we'll see what happens when the fans see their former "hero," the one that had the shit talked about him after he... "passed away," return from the dead for a second time, hm?" He smirked... getting up from the chair and grabbing his robe, nodding to the new signee as he left the room, helmet over his head.