What Dreams May Come...

Sun Oct 25, 2020 12:48 am

(Have you ever been somewhere that should seem familiar, yet something about it seemed...off? Indy knew exactly where he was, as Doc Miyagi’s gym in Indianapolis had become more than where he trained, it was also his home. Yet, as he walked around the practice ring, running his hand along the edge of the apron, he knew something wasn’t quite right. Not far from the ring, at his makeshift desk, Doc Miyagi sat with a smile, flirting with the gym’s newest addition, the prostitute named Malaysia….)

(Malaysia was a sassy African-American woman with long blonde hair, whom Doc had hired from an escort agency to cheer Indy up after losing his debut match. Despite turning down the generous offer of her services, Indy found that the woman continued to show up regularly at the gym, even going so far as to work out in the ring on occasion. He had started to grow accustomed to her presence, so she was not the one giving off the strange vibes he was experiencing.)

(Instead, it was the tall, somewhat slender man standing in the middle of the practice ring. He was a black man, with a tight perm that seemed to curl into the long sideburns that traced his jawline. His handlebar moustache seemed both out-of-place yet perfectly acceptable at the same time. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head as his stare followed Indy’s path around the ring. It was the kind of stare that made a person think twice before meeting it, with cold, black pupils surrounded by a sea of blistering white. This man, who was both strange and familiar to Indy, wore a black suit with a white button-up dress shirt underneath the jacket, topped off with a simple black tie. As Indy reached up to grab the middle rope and pull himself fully onto the apron, the man’s name seemed to enter his brain as if it had some hidden meaning that he could not fully comprehend. His name was Fairweather…)

(Indy continued to make his way into the ring, stepping gingerly between the ropes while being careful to keep his eyes on this familiar stranger, who continued to stare daggers in Indy’s direction. Once he was fully in the ring, Indy stood up straight and confident, as he would if entering the ring against an official opponent. It was then that Fairweather’s menacing expression began to melt into a smile of confidence. While he could still not shake the feeling that something was off about the entire situation, a sense of normalcy began to comfort Indy. In a way it mocked Indy’s familiarity with Doc’s gym, not that he didn’t belong there, but in a way that eliminated the regular loneliness he felt when working out. He was not alone inside the ring to train this time, as he usually found himself. Doc and Malaysia were outside of it as usual, but this time there was someone between the ropes with him to share the burden of training. This time, he had a friend.)

(Indy thought about his most recent promo, and how he had told his opponents that none of them were in the business to make friends. With Fairweather standing across the ring from him, smiling and slowly nodding his head, Indy internally questioned whether his statement had been correct. Traveling across the country with his father from one independent show to another, he had very few friends growing up. Later, when he felt like a prisoner in his mother’s house, his only friends were the Mexican immigrants who took care of the estate and introduced him to Lucha Libre. When he met Doc and his mother agreed to pay for formal wrestling lessons, he quickly saw Dalton Miyagi as a friend, although it was more like the relationship Indy had with his late father. Breaking into the business, traveling to Japan and the U.K., Indy had made acquaintances with other young competitors, but in the end he knew he couldn’t call any of them a true friend. Yet with Fairweather, he instinctively knew it was different. This was a man who would have his back, train alongside him, and cheerfully trash talk opponent’s when Indy silently questioned whether he was choosing the right approach. There was no doubt in Indy’s mind as he moved across the ring to lock up with the man in the business suit...this was his friend.)

(That’s when a flash of movement outside of the ring drew Indy’s attention away from Fairweather and onto the ring girl who pranced around the edge of the apron. She appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent, was clad in a very revealing bikini, and held a card above her head to signify the round of a contest, despite there being no such thing in the sport of Professional Wrestling. Indy tilted his head to side and cocked an eyebrow as he sensed a minor familiarity with the young woman. He knew it was Mia Khalifa, but he could not understand why she was in Doc’s gym or why she was indicating that he and Fairweather were currently in round 5 of their bout. He shook off the strange realization and turned back to his friend, who has a question of his own.)

Fairweather: What does Mia Khalifa look like?

Indy: What?

(For some reason, this made Fairweather’s expression turn sour.)

Fairweather: What country are you from?!

(Even more confused than before, Indy tries his best to make sense of the situation.)

Indy: ...w-what?

Fairweather: “What” ain’t no country I ever heard of! They speak English in “What”?

(Sensing that he’s angered his friend, Indy stammers to smooth over the situation.)

Indy: ...what?

Fairweather: English, mother fucker! Do you speak it?

Indy: ...yes!

Fairweather: Then you know what I’m saying! Describe what Mia Khalifa looks like!

(Fearing that their friendship is coming to an end before it can ever be explored further, Indy looks back to the ringside area, only to realize that Mia Khalifa is suddenly gone. In her place, is a giant lemur with bulging yellow eyes…)

(Once more, Indy turns back to Fairweather in the hope of coming to some kind of deeper understanding.)

Indy: What?

(At that moment, Fairweather suddenly draws back his fist, threatening to bring it crashing against Indy’s face.)

Fairweather: Say ‘what’ again. Say ‘what’ again, I dare you, I double dare you motherfucker, say what one more goddamn time!

(Indy glances back to the ringside area, hoping to get another look at Mia in order to properly describe her, but seeing only the yellow eyes of a giant lemur. He turns back to Fairweather and does his best to describe her appearance from memory...)

Indy: She’s tan…

Fairweather: Go on!

Indy: She has long dark hair…

Fairweather: Does she look like a lemur?

Indy: What?

(Unfortunately for Indy, that seems to be the final straw, as Fairweather unloads with a right hook that connects with enough force to spin Indy around on his heels. The suited man then grabs Indy from behind in a full nelson, for which Indy seems helpless to break. While still locked in the hold, Indy has his face driven into the corner buckle, while behind him echoes the great vengeance and furious anger from the man he thought to be a friend. As his face continuously meets the turnbuckle, he gets glimpses of the rest of Doc’s gym. After one turnbuckle smash he catches a brief image of his mother, mockingly smiling at him. After another, he sees his father, trying to comfort him with a reassuring smile. Their images are followed by dizzying flashes of Doc Miyagi, Malaysia, Mia Khalifa, the giant lemur, Caliban, Jay Vaughn, Johnny C, Charlie Schmidt, Jay Jones, Alex Slayer, a tentacled green blob named Gary, Legion, Sarah Roberts...and on, and on, and on, and on, and on….)

Indy: WHATTHEMOTHERSHITFUCK!!!!

(Indy shoots into a seated position on his bed, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. His eyes are wide open as he takes in the mundane surroundings of the room he rents above Doc’s gym. With a shaking hand, he reaches for his bedside table, grabbing a hold of his signature sunglasses. Still trembling, he places them over his eyes, and reaches back to the table to grab his cigarettes and lighter. Still staring forward with mouth agape, Indy’s shaking fingers pull out a cigarette as he begins to calm his breathing and speak softly to himself.)

Indy: I am never….ever….watch Bloodbath promos before bed again….

(And with that, he lights his cigarette, takes a deep drag, and drops his head backwards to the pillow. A cloud of smoke erupts from his lungs when he exhales, and in that oh so brief moment...Indy can almost swear that he sees the smiling image of Fairweather smiling at him from the smoke….)

TO BE CONTINUED…?