Sharpened

“I would like to start this broadcast with a formal statement. I, the great and powerful Danny B, will not make a single, low-hanging, obvious joke about John’s name. Obviously, this is a difficult task. But I wish to assure all of my loyal fans, ardent haters and everyone in between that I, the opulent and radiant majestic ruler of the ring, will undertake this challenge with aplomb, grace and humility. Obviously.” 

==//==

In all his years, there were several places Danny had taken to calling home. There was Brighton, of course, and then there were his adopted homes of Barcelona, Manila and Miami, but of all of these, there was one that had taken over his heart. New York City. For you long-time viewers, you’ll know that the East Side Penthouse Apartment Danny shared with Claudia is for sure his favourite home. Hell, it was mentioned only last week. Pay attention. 

Today, that is where he found himself. Leaning on the rail of his balcony, watching the world go by in front of him. He’d chosen this apartment for a few reasons. The cinching factor, however, was this: the view of the people. He liked to people-watch. Kept him calm. 

He had a lot to mull over, a lot to consider. He’d agreed to do a very rare meet and greet later in the day. Importantly, this would be followed by a Q&A session, which would of course mean questions regarding his historic, unprecedented and iconic second Golden Intentions win. 

Even just thinking about it, he sighed. This was the reason he had taken to people watching this lovely June afternoon. That moment, that inevitable moment, was supposed to be the moment he finally cemented himself amongst the true legends. It was supposed to be the moment that he put everyone in their place. No more was he to be the fifth mentioned in a list of greats; no more would his rightful place at the front of the poster be taken by Harlan, or Shane, or that shithead clown, or literally anyone but the best alive.

“Pensive aren’t we?” 

He didn’t look up as Claudia leaned on the railing beside him. She had been locked up in her room all morning, and he knew her well enough not to disturb her when she hadn’t come home alone the night before. 

“That’s a word for it.” He responded somberly, finally turning to look at her. She didn’t meet his gaze as she too looked over the city below. Very much like him, she wasn’t a born New Yorker; she called Northern California home, but they say home is where you rest your head, and her pillow was never found far from this very spot. Over this past decade, she had become closer than a sister to him, and as such, he could read her like an open book. She also had something heavy on her heart, but he knew better than to pry. She’d tell him when the time was right. They simply continued leaning next to one another in a comfortable silence for a moment, watching the world go by. It was Claudia who broke the silence first, keeping the topic on Golden Intentions. 

“You know it’s still a win, right? You’re the only one to do it twice. You’re still heading to the WrestleFest Main event again. There’s a bright side.”

“I know that.” He answered heavily, his tone remaining flat. “But being a history maker hasn’t served me well in the past, has it? It doesn’t matter what I do. History is shaped in my shadow. Yet, there I remain, in the shadows. I shouldn’t allow it to consume me the way it does. Why do I care what lessers think of me, but it has progressed beyond annoying oversight into deliberate curation.” His voice wavered a little on the last few words, a switch Claudia immediately recognised as him swallowing his fire within. 

“I was always going to win; anyone with half a working eye could see that. They couldn’t have that, not with so many of their golden children due to make surprise returns. I don’t exactly know who it is with the pencil these days, but I’m surprised they can plan anything whilst spending so much time with their mouth full. I didn’t draw a ball from a tumbler; I was told I was going out last.” Another slow-release breath. “So, now Amber can claim that I still haven’t bested her, Angelica avoids me yet again, Mia fails again to test herself against me, and finally, after all this time, I share the ring with two people I have been crying out to face, and they both have reasons to claim that they weren’t their best. I hope and pray that one day I get to stand toe-to-toe with Mariella and Shane, properly.”

“You forgot Caledonia.” He didn’t quite swallow the breath this time.

“If I have to spend one more minute of my fucking life on the fucking Highlanders, I swear to Christ I will not be held responsible for my actions.” 

Claudia cracked a smile. He needed to let out a little, lest it boil over at the wrong time. 

“There’s one thing you keep overlooking, though.” She spoke nonchalantly, turning her attention back to the crowd below. “They can’t actually stop you. You just keep fucking winning.” 

It was his turn to crack a smile. 

==//==

Despite himself, he quite enjoyed the meet and greet portion of his afternoon. The shine of worldwide fame had worn off considerably after all these years. As he signed yet another poster, his mind drifted back to the first time he had been stopped at an airport and asked for a selfie. That was the first moment he really thought he had ‘made it.’ Yet, seeing all the merchandise, some of which he knew for sure he hadn’t signed off on, with his own eyes was startling. Seems Claudia was right, it doesn’t matter how many back office dweebs tried to scrub him. Where it really mattered, out here, he was God. This put him in such a chipper mood that he didn’t even consider smashing in the skull of the pleb who wore a Gordy King shirt to try and get a reaction. After the final fan had passed by his table and walked away with a fresh sharpie squiggle on an action figure, Danny rose from his seat and, clocking that he still had another 30 minutes until the Q&A, he took himself outside. 

This felt like the old him, a feeling he hadn’t had in a while. He almost wished he had a smoke with him, a habit he had kicked a long time ago, just to really take himself back to 2015. 

He let the gentle breeze wash over his face, enjoying the cooling effect it had on his skin. This was truly the calmest and most serene he had felt ever since he was forcibly re-entered into the combat sphere. He was as ready as he was ever going to be for this circus parade he was about to be subjected to. 

==//==

“You’ve retired from the ring multiple times at this stage. What keeps bringing you back?”  It was an innocent enough question from the chubby guy in the third row. Danny found himself amused at how much the guy was trying to stay composed. 

“Ask anyone who has ever stepped between those ropes. Once you step away, you leave a piece of yourself behind. Some of us just can’t resist going to get it back.” And some of us are dragged into a hell dimension in the future, he finished the thought in his head. The half-answer satisfied the young man, though, and he sat down. Danny pointed somewhat lazily at a pretty woman sitting at the back.

“Do you have any dream matches left?” She asked shyly, clearly not comfortable with the microphone in her hand. 

“No.” He responded sharply. “At least not in that sense. I have challenges left to conquer. I have those others consider the best to squash beneath me. I’m not in this to have the best match or some other self-indulgent bull…” He caught himself from failing the one rule the organiser had given him, a very nice, very evil command not to swear. “...Nonsense. Every time I step in that ring, I have one goal in mind: to prove that I am the best to ever do it.” She lingered as he finished, seemingly not entirely satisfied with the answer. A moment passed, and she finally handed back the mic and sat. Danny’s eyes didn’t leave her for that moment, but she refused to return his gaze. He kept his eyes on her a little longer, but eventually Danny broke his fixation to point at a middle-aged, well-dressed man in the front row. 

“Can I get your opinion on the new crop of talent that CWF has taken on in the last few weeks?” 

“Interesting question.” He responded, surprising himself with how much he meant it. “Look, let me preface this by saying that I am not and will never be one of those guys who believes that the youngsters should earn their stripes. Don’t wait for the door to be opened, kick it the fuck down. On my first day, I didn’t have an interview segment or a welcome match where I hoped people would notice me. I attacked Franklin Frederickson and put the whole fucking locker room on notice. 

I’ll be honest with you, I don’t keep up with the wrestling world the way I should, so all of these guys are coming in are fresh in my eyes. There are some characters for sure, some I can see still trying to find their feet and a few that might even follow in my path of picking a name you’re gonna end up regretting when you’re 20 years older than you were!” This got a few chuckles from the crowd. Evidently, he wasn’t the only one.

“I want them to step up. There are two types of old people in this sport. People who are scared of the young’uns rising up and sending them on a one-way trip to the home, and there are those like me, the ones who want to keep sharpening their iron until the day they die. If I’m in that ring, I want the best. You’ve all been watching; you know who I am. I don’t want the easy road, I don’t want a quick payday. Every match is a new chance for me to leave a pile of hopes and dreams where a human being once resided. The ones who will make it are the ones who get back up again.” 

“So you’re not upset about facing John Obvious this week?”

“Why would I be? This will go one of two ways. He will step and make his name against me, or I will break him into a thousand pieces and break his spirit. I hope for the former.” Danny took in a deep breath. Every opponent needed the monologue; it was contractual after all. He figured there was no time like the present. 

“I know nothing about John. Nor do I need to. He showed up at Golden Intentions and didn’t totally wash out. Score one for Captain Evident. What I know is that this week he has been thrown in at the deep end. I don’t know if this is supposed to be his testing ground or another way to piss me off on the way to embarrassing Gordy on August 7th. Doesn’t matter, either way, they failed. There will be one test for John. Will he get back up?

He is about to step in there against the most dominant star in this company’s history. This could be routine for me, I could walk in, snap him in half and walk out, not a breath wasted, but that’s not what I plan to do. I intend to see what this kid is made of; I intend to test myself against him.

When you step in the ring with a new opponent for the first time, you don’t know what to expect. I notoriously do not watch tape, I don’t read the rapsheets, I want the challenge to come my way. Learning how to adapt in the moment is the only real way to build your skill sets. He may show me something I have never seen before. I doubt it, of course, he’s stepping in there with the most innovative wrestler to ever come out of the British Isles, bruv. But you never know.

The point is, he, like everyone else I face, is a chance for me to improve. There’s a reason I remain on top even now, a reason that no matter how many generations pass, The Ripper is still the one they all fear. I am still the benchmark, I am still the measuring stick. I hope John knows what a rare and precious opportunity this is for him. My matches are few and far between these days, for good reason. If I just beat everyone with ease, what’s the story? John, you get one of these rare matches. On TV no less. You’re stepping in with the One True Chief, the Beast himself, the never-seen destruction machine, the phenomenal God of the Game. John, I beg and implore you to understand what a golden learning opportunity this is. Step up or fall. Show me something special, and I'll let you fight on another day. You prove to be the same fool who thinks he can get by on a new spin of a recycled gimmick, and your story ends at my hands. I can make you into a star, or I can simply be your maker. I can remember you, or you can just be my warm-up for Gordy. This is special, John, a moment in time for you. Do you feel it? It’s fucking electric.” A pair of wide eyes glared at Danny across the room, causing a break long enough for the well-dressed gentleman to interject one more little remark.

“So, in short, you’re looking forward to facing him?”

“Obviously.”