Post by Mario Maurako on Feb 18, 2024 23:52:02 GMT -5
I.
The blaring of my alarm jolted me awake, and I groggily swiped it off. Rolling over, my eyes caught the soft glow of morning light streaming through the curtains, and a familiar feeling settled in - the stiffness in my chest. I glanced down, tracing the scar that served as a relentless reminder of the cardiac event that occurred at OCW: Not Safe For Work in June of 2019. I should have died, but I didn’t. I should have stayed retired, but I couldn’t.
Dragging myself out of bed, I ambled into the kitchen, where my father, Matteo sat at the worn wooden table, his weathered eyes, once sharp, were now clouded, as if nobody was home. I had been seeing these signs, and knew the cruel progression, but we both danced around the unspoken truth, such was the Maurako Family tradition.
“Morning, Dad,” I greeted, the routine a bittersweet comfort. I shuffled around the kitchen, preparing a modest breakfast - eggs and toast, just like he liked it.
His vacant gaze wandered, and I wondered how much of this moment he truly comprehended. “Breakfast is served.” I announced, offering a slight smile.
As he sipped his coffee, I fought the urge to confront the harsh reality, letting the silence linger between us. The clink of cutlery against the plate filled the air as I sat across from Matteo. The aroma of breakfast lingered, mixing with the unspoken tension that enveloped our daily routine. Matteo finished chewing some eggs, then sipped more of his coffee, his gaze wandering somewhere between memory and the present.
“Dad,” I began, breaking the quiet morning stillness, “I’ve been thinking about getting back into the ring. Gonna compete in the Wit Trials.” Matteo’s eyes, filled with a flicker of recognition, met mine. “Wrestling, eh?” he mumbled.
I nodded, a mixture of determination and hesitation wrestling within me. “It’s time, Dad. Gotta prove I’ve still got what it takes.” He looked at me with a sense of pride, albeit tinged with the fog of his condition. “You were always a fighter, Mario. Like your mother.”
A spark of sadness touched my heart at the mention of Mom, but I quickly quenched it. “I’ve got my first opponents lined up - Kieran King and Cyph3r. Two formidable adversaries in the Wit Trials.” Matteo leaned back, his face etched with curiosity. “Tell me about them, son.”
I couldn’t help but slip into a breakfast table monologue, a skill honed over years in the ring. “Kieran King, the monarch of mind games. His every move, a calculated chess play. But I’ve danced with the best of them, and I know how to outsmart a king, as it takes one to know one. Cyph3r, the enigma in the shadows. A mystery wrapped in a riddle. But I thrive in the unknown. These Trials won’t be just about wrestling moves; it is about wit, strategy, and unraveling the secrets of the TRIAD.”
Matteo’s eyes sparkled with a glimmer of understanding, a fleeting connection to the son he knew. “Go show them, Mario. Show them the Maurako legacy isn’t easily forgotten.” I nodded, a silent promise resonating between us. “I will, Dad. For you, for Mom, and for the Maurako name.”
After breakfast, I reluctantly gathered my things for the therapy session Matteo had insisted upon. “Mario,” he had said in his faltering voice, “you do this for you, but also for the family.”
I grunted in acknowledgement, my inner resistance palpable. The therapist’s name, an Italian with an air of youth and inexperience, was Luca Rossetti. Despite my father’s hopes, I wasn’t thrilled about digging into my own psyche, but I’d made a promise.
II.
Walking into the therapist’s office felt like entering an arena where emotions grappled for dominance. Luca welcomed me with a warm smile, but my guard was up. I didn’t need a shrink poking around in my head.
Luca Rossetti’s office felt too sterile, the air thick with the kind of stillness that exists in places meant for unraveling minds. As I settled into the leather chair, I couldn’t help but glance around, half expecting a hidden camera or someone lurking in the shadows. Matteo insisted I give this therapy thing a shot - said it would do me good, help me cope with the baggage I’ve been dragging around all these years.
“So, Mario,” Luca began. “What brings you here today?”
I scoffed, avoiding eye contact. “My father thinks I need my head examined. Maybe he’s right.”
Luca nodded, his pen poised over a notepad. “Family concerns can be a powerful motivator for seeking help. Tell me about your relationship with your father.”
I shot him a skeptical look. “Are you trying to play mind games on me already? Save it. I don’t have any daddy issues.”
Luca leaned back, unfazed. “Not playing games, Mario. Just trying to understand you. Let’s talk about your return to wrestling. How does that feel for you?”
I shook my head, crossing my arms “It’s a paycheck. What else is there to feel?”
“You don’t strike me as someone who needs a paycheck.” Luca quipped. Luca leaned forward in the chair, putting the pen down before continuing. “Is it possible that returning to wrestling is about more than just money? Maybe a desire for validation or redemption?”
I gritted my teeth, feeling the slightest bit of discomfort burning from down in my soul. “Don’t psychoanalyze me. I’m here because I promised my father that I would give you a chance and talk with you. Not because I’ve got some deep-seated issues.”
Luca leaned back in the chair, his brow furrowed, “Mario, everyone has their demons. Maybe it is time you face yours and your families.”
I rolled my eyes. “Demons? Save the theatrics.”
Luca, undeterred, began a subtle dance of probing questions, each one digging a bit deeper. He was good - too good. It annoyed me, but beneath the tough exterior, a small part of me recognized the sincerity in his approach. As the session unfolded his mind games became a chess match, and I found myself hesitating less, and opening up more.
“Why chase after the TRIAD, Mario?” Luca finally asked, his gaze steady.
I scoffed in disbelief, my resistance flickering. “A magic relic? Sounds like a fairy tale.”
Luca leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine. “There’s more to it, isn’t there? A desire to prove something perhaps?”
I felt vulnerable, a crack in my stoic facade. Matteo’s words echoed in my mind, urging me to confront the shadows that lingered within. Luca, an inexperienced therapist, started to chip away at the walls I’d built. It was a slow process, but somewhere in the midst of our verbal sparring, he earned a fragment of my respect.
I rose from the chair, a newfound sense of awareness lingered in the air. Luca followed me, his eyes holding a mix of understanding and determination. I didn’t offer any further words, but as I reached the door, I hesitated. Without turning back, I finally said, “We’ll continue this next time.”
Out of the corner of my eye I caught a slight nod from Luca. As the door closed behind me, a strange mix of emotions accompanied me down the sterile hallway. I couldn’t deny that Luca had stirred something within, something I’ve been avoiding for years. The therapy room felt like an arena of its own, and I walked out, not defeated, but with the realization that confronting my own issues, or demons as Luca referred to them, might be the key to unlocking a resilience I hadn’t fully tapped into before.
The clock on the wall marked the end of the session, but it also signaled the beginning of a journey I hadn’t anticipated. The smile that had graced my face lingered as I stepped back into the world, a world where the shadows felt a bit less daunting, and the echoes of the past were ready to be faced.
III.
The cobblestone streets of Paris stretched out before me, shrouded in the embrace of dimly lit street lamps. The city’s nocturnal rhythm pulsed through the air, a melodic hum of distant chatter and the occasional echo of footsteps. I trod the familiar paths, the whispers of history echoing in the cool night breeze.
Tonight was no ordinary night. Tonight, the shadows were my allies, my confidants. I could feel the weight of the wrestling world on my shoulders, the echoes of past battles and the pulsating energy of the TRIAD’s mystique. As I walked, the cool Parisian air seeped into my lungs, and I could almost taste the anticipation, the electricity of the upcoming match.
I spotted the Eiffel Tower in the distance, casting shadows over the cobblestone paths. It always reminded me of my lovable loser of a friend, Johnny Elite.
A distant clang echoed in the night. “Johnny,” I muttered to myself, recognizing the sound. I slowly began making my way down an ally as I followed the noise which now more clearly sounded like beeps. I followed the occasional beep until I found a disheveled figure huddled under a tattered blanket, a metal detector clutched tightly in one hand. Could it be him?
“Johnny Elite! Is that you?” I called out, a mix of concern and nostalgia in my voice.
The homeless man stirred, looking up with bleary eyes. Recognition flickered across Johnny’s face, and a goofy smile spread as he struggled to his feet.
“Mario! My man!” Johnny exclaimed, the metal detector dangling from his wrist like an eccentric accessory. “You won’t believe the places I’ve been and the treasures I’ve hunted!”
I arched an eyebrow, glancing at the makeshift belongings scattered around Johnny. “Treasures, huh? Last I heard you were obsessed with finding the Eiffel Tower.”
Johnny’s eyes lit up with a mix of excitement and remorse. “Ah, the Tower! It has been so elusive, but I can’t help but feel like I’ve been extremely close.”
As I listened, the signs of a hard life etched on my friend’s face became more evident. A tangled mess of emotions washed over me- fondness, frustration, and lingering camaraderie.
“Johnny, you can’t keep chasing shadows. There is something big happening, and I need your help,” I confessed, my sights fixed on the distant Eiffel Tower.
Johnny’s eyes widened, a glimmer of purpose replaced the haze in his eyes. “Help? Mario, you know I’d follow you anywhere!”
With a sigh, I extended a hand to Johnny, a silent understanding passing between us. The search for a piece of the TRIAD suddenly held a deeper significance. It wasn’t just about correcting my wrestling legacy; it was about helping Johnny find something he’d been chasing for years - the elusive Eiffel Tower.
“Johnny, there’s a mystical power within the TRIAD,” I explained, my tone carrying a weight of sincerity. “Uniting its pieces grants unimaginable abilities. Maybe, just maybe, it can guide you to that Eiffel Tower you’ve been searching for.”
Johnny’s gaze lingered on mine, hope flickering in his eyes. The idea of a shared quest seemed to awaken something in him. “You really think so, Mario?”
“I’ve seen stranger things in this wrestling world,” I replied with a half smile. “We’ll search for and earn that piece of the TRIAD together, and who knows, it might just lead us to your Eiffel Tower.” I couldn’t help but look at the large looming tower in the distance.
Johnny grinned, his enthusiasm infectious. “Let’s do it Mario!”
With that, we stood together, ready to embark on our new journey. The TRIAD with its mystical allure, held the promise of redemption, not just for me but for Johnny as well. As we set off, our shared purpose resonated in the air, and the weight of our quest hung heavy. The TRIAD, with its mystic resonance, now bound us together in a pursuit beyond the wrestling ring. In the heart of Paris, we were beginning our journey for the piece that would not only shape my wrestling legacy but also guide Johnny to his long sought Eiffel Tower.
The sounds of our footsteps on the cobblestone streets seemed to harmonize with the elusive whispers of the TRIAD. With every stride, I could almost sense the pieces calling out to be united. It was more than a mere wrestling challenge; it was a journey to harness unimaginable powers, a journey that entwined fate, redemption, and the pursuit of dreams.
As we ventured into the unknown, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the TRIAD had a grander plan, weaving destinies and revealing secrets. The Eiffel Tower, once a whimsical obsession, now symbolized a beacon leading us toward the unknown depths of this mystical relic.
As the city lights illuminated the path ahead, our pursuit of the TRIAD became more profound than a wrestling challenge. It was a journey of self-discovery, an odyssey that transcended the boundaries of the ring.
With the TRIAD guiding our steps, we ventured forth into the Parisian night, the Eiffel Tower standing tall in the distance, a silhouette against the canvas of our shared destiny. The pursuit of redemption and the fulfillment of dreams awaited us, intricately tied to the secrets concealed by the TRIAD.
The blaring of my alarm jolted me awake, and I groggily swiped it off. Rolling over, my eyes caught the soft glow of morning light streaming through the curtains, and a familiar feeling settled in - the stiffness in my chest. I glanced down, tracing the scar that served as a relentless reminder of the cardiac event that occurred at OCW: Not Safe For Work in June of 2019. I should have died, but I didn’t. I should have stayed retired, but I couldn’t.
Dragging myself out of bed, I ambled into the kitchen, where my father, Matteo sat at the worn wooden table, his weathered eyes, once sharp, were now clouded, as if nobody was home. I had been seeing these signs, and knew the cruel progression, but we both danced around the unspoken truth, such was the Maurako Family tradition.
“Morning, Dad,” I greeted, the routine a bittersweet comfort. I shuffled around the kitchen, preparing a modest breakfast - eggs and toast, just like he liked it.
His vacant gaze wandered, and I wondered how much of this moment he truly comprehended. “Breakfast is served.” I announced, offering a slight smile.
As he sipped his coffee, I fought the urge to confront the harsh reality, letting the silence linger between us. The clink of cutlery against the plate filled the air as I sat across from Matteo. The aroma of breakfast lingered, mixing with the unspoken tension that enveloped our daily routine. Matteo finished chewing some eggs, then sipped more of his coffee, his gaze wandering somewhere between memory and the present.
“Dad,” I began, breaking the quiet morning stillness, “I’ve been thinking about getting back into the ring. Gonna compete in the Wit Trials.” Matteo’s eyes, filled with a flicker of recognition, met mine. “Wrestling, eh?” he mumbled.
I nodded, a mixture of determination and hesitation wrestling within me. “It’s time, Dad. Gotta prove I’ve still got what it takes.” He looked at me with a sense of pride, albeit tinged with the fog of his condition. “You were always a fighter, Mario. Like your mother.”
A spark of sadness touched my heart at the mention of Mom, but I quickly quenched it. “I’ve got my first opponents lined up - Kieran King and Cyph3r. Two formidable adversaries in the Wit Trials.” Matteo leaned back, his face etched with curiosity. “Tell me about them, son.”
I couldn’t help but slip into a breakfast table monologue, a skill honed over years in the ring. “Kieran King, the monarch of mind games. His every move, a calculated chess play. But I’ve danced with the best of them, and I know how to outsmart a king, as it takes one to know one. Cyph3r, the enigma in the shadows. A mystery wrapped in a riddle. But I thrive in the unknown. These Trials won’t be just about wrestling moves; it is about wit, strategy, and unraveling the secrets of the TRIAD.”
Matteo’s eyes sparkled with a glimmer of understanding, a fleeting connection to the son he knew. “Go show them, Mario. Show them the Maurako legacy isn’t easily forgotten.” I nodded, a silent promise resonating between us. “I will, Dad. For you, for Mom, and for the Maurako name.”
After breakfast, I reluctantly gathered my things for the therapy session Matteo had insisted upon. “Mario,” he had said in his faltering voice, “you do this for you, but also for the family.”
I grunted in acknowledgement, my inner resistance palpable. The therapist’s name, an Italian with an air of youth and inexperience, was Luca Rossetti. Despite my father’s hopes, I wasn’t thrilled about digging into my own psyche, but I’d made a promise.
II.
Walking into the therapist’s office felt like entering an arena where emotions grappled for dominance. Luca welcomed me with a warm smile, but my guard was up. I didn’t need a shrink poking around in my head.
Luca Rossetti’s office felt too sterile, the air thick with the kind of stillness that exists in places meant for unraveling minds. As I settled into the leather chair, I couldn’t help but glance around, half expecting a hidden camera or someone lurking in the shadows. Matteo insisted I give this therapy thing a shot - said it would do me good, help me cope with the baggage I’ve been dragging around all these years.
“So, Mario,” Luca began. “What brings you here today?”
I scoffed, avoiding eye contact. “My father thinks I need my head examined. Maybe he’s right.”
Luca nodded, his pen poised over a notepad. “Family concerns can be a powerful motivator for seeking help. Tell me about your relationship with your father.”
I shot him a skeptical look. “Are you trying to play mind games on me already? Save it. I don’t have any daddy issues.”
Luca leaned back, unfazed. “Not playing games, Mario. Just trying to understand you. Let’s talk about your return to wrestling. How does that feel for you?”
I shook my head, crossing my arms “It’s a paycheck. What else is there to feel?”
“You don’t strike me as someone who needs a paycheck.” Luca quipped. Luca leaned forward in the chair, putting the pen down before continuing. “Is it possible that returning to wrestling is about more than just money? Maybe a desire for validation or redemption?”
I gritted my teeth, feeling the slightest bit of discomfort burning from down in my soul. “Don’t psychoanalyze me. I’m here because I promised my father that I would give you a chance and talk with you. Not because I’ve got some deep-seated issues.”
Luca leaned back in the chair, his brow furrowed, “Mario, everyone has their demons. Maybe it is time you face yours and your families.”
I rolled my eyes. “Demons? Save the theatrics.”
Luca, undeterred, began a subtle dance of probing questions, each one digging a bit deeper. He was good - too good. It annoyed me, but beneath the tough exterior, a small part of me recognized the sincerity in his approach. As the session unfolded his mind games became a chess match, and I found myself hesitating less, and opening up more.
“Why chase after the TRIAD, Mario?” Luca finally asked, his gaze steady.
I scoffed in disbelief, my resistance flickering. “A magic relic? Sounds like a fairy tale.”
Luca leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine. “There’s more to it, isn’t there? A desire to prove something perhaps?”
I felt vulnerable, a crack in my stoic facade. Matteo’s words echoed in my mind, urging me to confront the shadows that lingered within. Luca, an inexperienced therapist, started to chip away at the walls I’d built. It was a slow process, but somewhere in the midst of our verbal sparring, he earned a fragment of my respect.
I rose from the chair, a newfound sense of awareness lingered in the air. Luca followed me, his eyes holding a mix of understanding and determination. I didn’t offer any further words, but as I reached the door, I hesitated. Without turning back, I finally said, “We’ll continue this next time.”
Out of the corner of my eye I caught a slight nod from Luca. As the door closed behind me, a strange mix of emotions accompanied me down the sterile hallway. I couldn’t deny that Luca had stirred something within, something I’ve been avoiding for years. The therapy room felt like an arena of its own, and I walked out, not defeated, but with the realization that confronting my own issues, or demons as Luca referred to them, might be the key to unlocking a resilience I hadn’t fully tapped into before.
The clock on the wall marked the end of the session, but it also signaled the beginning of a journey I hadn’t anticipated. The smile that had graced my face lingered as I stepped back into the world, a world where the shadows felt a bit less daunting, and the echoes of the past were ready to be faced.
III.
The cobblestone streets of Paris stretched out before me, shrouded in the embrace of dimly lit street lamps. The city’s nocturnal rhythm pulsed through the air, a melodic hum of distant chatter and the occasional echo of footsteps. I trod the familiar paths, the whispers of history echoing in the cool night breeze.
Tonight was no ordinary night. Tonight, the shadows were my allies, my confidants. I could feel the weight of the wrestling world on my shoulders, the echoes of past battles and the pulsating energy of the TRIAD’s mystique. As I walked, the cool Parisian air seeped into my lungs, and I could almost taste the anticipation, the electricity of the upcoming match.
I spotted the Eiffel Tower in the distance, casting shadows over the cobblestone paths. It always reminded me of my lovable loser of a friend, Johnny Elite.
A distant clang echoed in the night. “Johnny,” I muttered to myself, recognizing the sound. I slowly began making my way down an ally as I followed the noise which now more clearly sounded like beeps. I followed the occasional beep until I found a disheveled figure huddled under a tattered blanket, a metal detector clutched tightly in one hand. Could it be him?
“Johnny Elite! Is that you?” I called out, a mix of concern and nostalgia in my voice.
The homeless man stirred, looking up with bleary eyes. Recognition flickered across Johnny’s face, and a goofy smile spread as he struggled to his feet.
“Mario! My man!” Johnny exclaimed, the metal detector dangling from his wrist like an eccentric accessory. “You won’t believe the places I’ve been and the treasures I’ve hunted!”
I arched an eyebrow, glancing at the makeshift belongings scattered around Johnny. “Treasures, huh? Last I heard you were obsessed with finding the Eiffel Tower.”
Johnny’s eyes lit up with a mix of excitement and remorse. “Ah, the Tower! It has been so elusive, but I can’t help but feel like I’ve been extremely close.”
As I listened, the signs of a hard life etched on my friend’s face became more evident. A tangled mess of emotions washed over me- fondness, frustration, and lingering camaraderie.
“Johnny, you can’t keep chasing shadows. There is something big happening, and I need your help,” I confessed, my sights fixed on the distant Eiffel Tower.
Johnny’s eyes widened, a glimmer of purpose replaced the haze in his eyes. “Help? Mario, you know I’d follow you anywhere!”
With a sigh, I extended a hand to Johnny, a silent understanding passing between us. The search for a piece of the TRIAD suddenly held a deeper significance. It wasn’t just about correcting my wrestling legacy; it was about helping Johnny find something he’d been chasing for years - the elusive Eiffel Tower.
“Johnny, there’s a mystical power within the TRIAD,” I explained, my tone carrying a weight of sincerity. “Uniting its pieces grants unimaginable abilities. Maybe, just maybe, it can guide you to that Eiffel Tower you’ve been searching for.”
Johnny’s gaze lingered on mine, hope flickering in his eyes. The idea of a shared quest seemed to awaken something in him. “You really think so, Mario?”
“I’ve seen stranger things in this wrestling world,” I replied with a half smile. “We’ll search for and earn that piece of the TRIAD together, and who knows, it might just lead us to your Eiffel Tower.” I couldn’t help but look at the large looming tower in the distance.
Johnny grinned, his enthusiasm infectious. “Let’s do it Mario!”
With that, we stood together, ready to embark on our new journey. The TRIAD with its mystical allure, held the promise of redemption, not just for me but for Johnny as well. As we set off, our shared purpose resonated in the air, and the weight of our quest hung heavy. The TRIAD, with its mystic resonance, now bound us together in a pursuit beyond the wrestling ring. In the heart of Paris, we were beginning our journey for the piece that would not only shape my wrestling legacy but also guide Johnny to his long sought Eiffel Tower.
The sounds of our footsteps on the cobblestone streets seemed to harmonize with the elusive whispers of the TRIAD. With every stride, I could almost sense the pieces calling out to be united. It was more than a mere wrestling challenge; it was a journey to harness unimaginable powers, a journey that entwined fate, redemption, and the pursuit of dreams.
As we ventured into the unknown, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the TRIAD had a grander plan, weaving destinies and revealing secrets. The Eiffel Tower, once a whimsical obsession, now symbolized a beacon leading us toward the unknown depths of this mystical relic.
As the city lights illuminated the path ahead, our pursuit of the TRIAD became more profound than a wrestling challenge. It was a journey of self-discovery, an odyssey that transcended the boundaries of the ring.
With the TRIAD guiding our steps, we ventured forth into the Parisian night, the Eiffel Tower standing tall in the distance, a silhouette against the canvas of our shared destiny. The pursuit of redemption and the fulfillment of dreams awaited us, intricately tied to the secrets concealed by the TRIAD.