Chapters Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 1: Just Another Day
Day 1
Starting this at the suggestion of my psychiatrist, who says that I really need a way to express myself since my work doesn't let me. Not sure where to start so he suggested that I start with my previous day.
I started the day off the same way I have for years now, two mile run followed by work out regimen, then a mile run after to cool down. Because it's a show day, after breakfast I meet the boss at the arena and we walk through my pre- and post-match, making sure everything is in order. Before I leave be gives me the finish, win but make it dirty so there's a rematch.
This is wrestling promotion in a nutshell, pit two athletes against each other in a bitter feud but make sure that it isn't resolved tonight. As I leave and ponder how to finish, I get a call from North Star. He's in town and wants to catch up. Of course I can't turn him down, so we meet over lunch.
I'm always amazed at how much kids seem to grow, North's daughter Mel seems to double her size every time I see her. But their youngest, Little Dipper, is the one that I most enjoy talking to, because he doesn't want to talk about wrestling or any sport. This kid is a genius and will probably win a royal prize in science, maybe before he even gets to university.
Again because it's my home territory, we have to meet in private. I'm heel so I can't be seen doing babyface things. Sometimes I feel this is what causes me problems, that I have to be forced into a role nearly all the time. As a heel I can easily blow off my anger, I'm expected to be bad. When I'm babyface it's easy to be my usual self, I'm not angry by default, but when things get to you, you have to smile and swallow it.
Mel is getting into kart racing, North is her strategist and Dip is going to be training as their engineer. She's a fast girl, and with those two helping her she's going to obliterate the competition.
Wineberry didn't talk too much, she was just happy to get away from the farm for a weekend. not that she needs to, she talks to me plenty during the week. She's a powerful lady to have made North from a drifter into a full-time dad.
In the evening they left so they could make it in before bell time, leaving just me to get into the zone. A cold shower, as cold as I can get, some stretches, and into the suit. I catch the ride, then we meet up with the police convoy.
Police are necessary because the boss got tired of paying for bodywork when my ride, or other heels' rides got jumped and/or egged by fans. We arrive in the arena, straight to the heel dressing area I go for a last bit of stretches before suiting up, then off to gorilla position.
My match comes and goes, I win but doing so by sneaking a chair shot, the fans are nearly rioting after the post match beat down I gave. Behind the curtain I'm congratulated on the good match, out of the wrestling gear, warm shower, back into the suit. The griffon tag team takes me to the bar for a drink.
Most avoid me because of being heel, but there are a few ladies who want "the bad guy". Tonight's attempt is by a girl who looks like she hadn't even finished high school. I know better, so I tell her to buy me a beer and I'll get her any drink she wants, she balks. Bingo, underage. I repeat my terms, buy me a drink at the bar and we'll talk.
The night comes and goes, I only end up drinking water. So back to the apartment, out of the suit and into workout gear. Just a light three mile run/walk for the evening and into bed. Another day, another show, another paycheck.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Day 4
Spent all of yesterday putting everything into storage in preparation of this trip. At this upcoming show, I'm going to finally drop the title and head off to the southern territory, which will be nice because I finally get to show off my freestyle roots again. This extended stay at the home did great, four months of sold out shows and at several of them the fire marshal himself was present to turn people away. Big Mac and I had a great feud, blurred the lines, got very rough and even nearly started riots. He's the real star of our feuds, sells for me like ice cream on a hot summer day.
Packing into and unpacking from storage is always an emotional experience. It's mostly all the awards and accolades I've won through all my years. Many have seen the many awards I've won through my years, from my wrestling championships to my basketball trophies, but so far not not even one of them has guessed the ones that I hold dearest. Ironically enough, neither is a championship but a consolation award.
The first is for an academic decathlon from my high school years. Maybe it's out of spite for everyone else that I treasure it. For so long in my life I've been treated as little more than a meat head jock, many talked down to me which is why I felt so isolated so often. When I entered this competition everyone laughed at me. The competition organizer even said to my face "There's no special education division here, boy." It was only the insistence of Papa and my sister's infamous persuasion that let him relent and enter me. I must have studied all spring break long non-stop to prepare.
The assembled crowd was in disbelief at my performance, and the jerkasses who talked down to me all year long because I happen to be athletically gifted were literally in tears as I eliminated them, one by one. I ended up finishing second, only to a university student. My second place finish was enough to shut everyone up about me. It only took me until I was 17.
The other award was a third place in the Stalliongrad Father-Son Games. I was only 15 and thought I'd come to rock bottom. I hadn't seen Papa in over 10 years, I had become so stressed trying to care for sister, we had finally gotten mother locked away after all she put us through. Entering into the games with me was how Papa wanted to reconnect with me. We hadn't put any training together at all and had no idea what games were to happen but at the end of the Red October Festival, we had finished in 3rd place. I think that may have been the first time I wept in public. Just that feeling of that I could feel loved and that I could be worth something.
I'm the only one in the territory who travels by train. I prefer the train because I'm not cramped, it's far quieter than a bus, and there's drinks served. Plus, I get to think back on days gone by, laugh and cry at the memories and not have some nosy prick butt in on me.
I'm fortunate to have such a great housing arrangement in Canterlot, the apartment is owned by a former wrestler who rents the place out when I'm off traveling as I'm about to do. Its location is prime, only a few blocks away from the nearby gym, the train station, right in the heart of the city for shopping or food, and about three miles from the Royal Arena, which is where we do our Canterlot shows. The owner says to just let him know a month before I come back and the place is all mine.
Out south is where sister is. It's been months since I last saw her, and will be nice to finally get together again. She's in political activism, and is very outspoken. Lately she's been trying to organize labor unions in Appleoosa, and had some surprising success, unionizing the oil refinery and the rubber plant. I just hope she's not in jail yet again, but I suppose her lack of fear for consequence is what often makes her so effective for her causes. Personally, I prefer Babushka's advice to leave my political beliefs in the ballot box.
My final show in the territory is going to be in Ponyville, Big Mac's hometown. North and Wine would usually attend this one since it's also where they live, but they're off on a vacation for their kids finishing school and to try and find retailers for their wine. Mel is smart to the sport, which is why I'm her favorite. I think Dip is too, but I'm not sure he cares, he's really not into sport or much anything athletic. He says he wants to be Mel's race engineer because she's his sister and mostly for the science. I can relate, I'll do anything for my sister myself.
Going forward I believe I'm just going number my entries instead of dating them, because like now I can just keep going about things, but other days I can't hardly put pen to paper. If I don't write again after the big show, I'll definitely write on the train to my debut in Appleoosa.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 3
I'm announced to the ring to an incredible, deafening chorus of jeers. I've done my job well. Big Mac comes next to an even louder reception, but the opposite of mine. The match starts and I reach expecting a normal start but with a quick snatch and pull of my arm I fly to the other side of the ring, followed by his running body splash in the corner and then a quick bulldog. All a bit stiff, I wonder what the hell? "Gotta sell the feud, partner" he whispers. I'm going to miss working with this guy.
True to form I weather his offensive storm and continue to dominate most of the match, but never quite enough to put him away. One of the most beautiful things about wrestling is seeing, feeling the audience live and die with each move. The massive energy when Mac leaps off the top for a Five Star Frog Splash, followed by the air leaving the building when I rolled and left him to fall and got in my famous cloverleaf. Then it built again and got more electric as he inched, scraped for the ropes, the crowd screaming in encouragement as the sweat rolled down his muzzle and over his pained expression, looking the part as if I really was ripping his legs out of their sockets.
He gets hold of the ropes, I roar in anger and disbelief, and then I feel his ankle wriggle meaning it's go home time. I look around to sell the exasperation and the timekeeper is tapping the pencil, eraser down, on the table. Yep, it's time for the big finish. I keep the hold and the ref keeps count until he slaps my nose, causing me to release the hold and stare daggers at him. As Mac starts to stand up, shaky, using the ropes for support, I punt his stomach, and piledrive him square in the middle with the pin.
He doesn't give up, his shoulder popping with the ref's hand an inch from counting three, the crowd screaming in delight so loud I can't even hear the ref talking even though he's nose-to-nose with me. He gives a light shove to back me off, then I crack my knuckles, and powerbomb him, getting the crowd more angry than they've been tonight. I slide out of the ring, knock over the timekeeper and take his chair. Time to end this. As I get back in with the chair and wind up to crack Mac's skull with it he gets the surprise dropkick, sending it into my face. I should have remembered to turn my head.
Now Mac has the chair and points at me as I sit up, the crowd screaming in unison "You!" The chair flies, I get my hand up and it sounds like a bomb going off. I drop as if killed, the crowd builds to a crescendo once more, and it was all slow motion as Mac lept off the top, performed that beautiful backflip and hit the shooting star press. The referee barely regains his senses, crawling over just in time to count his pin. The crowd knows this is it, One... Two... They hold their breath.
Three!
It's the day after I dropped the belt to Big Mac, and I did it clean. He was the happiest I'd seen him to have his championship moment in his hometown of all places. I remember Papa telling me about when he won the World's Heavyweight Championship, the one that you carry around the nation to defend. The kind of joy and raw emotion he told to me long ago seemed to be reflected in Mac as he finally got to hold that belt in his arms for the first time. He's an amazing talent and will be holding that belt for a lot longer than not I feel.
Professional wrestling works on what's known as a territory system. Gryphus the Terrible, Papa's former tag partner and rival who trained me, likened it to how corporate franchising works for, say, fast food. A promoter will start a wrestling show in a place that isn't a part of an existing territory, will pay a small fee and join the de facto national body, the GWE (Global Wrestling Enterprise).
As a member association you can use the GWE name and such to help give your promotion legitimacy and honor, you get a vote in their annual forum for all businesses matters, get a vote on who becomes/stays world champion, as well as you're guaranteed dates with their world champion. In return you promise to never run in competition to another promotion, to honor all decisions made by the voting body, to recognize their champ as the only true world champion, and to not defame or cause harm upon the GWE name.
The World's Heavyweight Champion is chosen by the voting body, jokingly called the conclave, and he travels through all the territories to defend the title. They don't pick just anyone for the spot, they want someone who's legitimately tough and can keep his title in case an opponent goes into business for himself and tries to steal it. Also the toughness is important because it makes a joke out of the Enterprise if their world champion gets his ass beat in a bar fight. The champion also has to be skilled no matter what role, because he has to work with every territory's top wrestler, which means he has to work as either babyface or heel depending on where he is.
Now just because there's only one world champion doesn't mean that each territory can't have their own titles. Every territory's top guy usually has their version of the Equestrian National Champion, as well as World Tag Team Champions, and in some places a Ladies' Champion. They just cannot have a title that implies it's greater than the world's champion. What I dropped was the local ENC belt for the Princess' Court territory.
After the match I was in a bar by myself, as usual drinking water. Despite appearances, reputation, and my tolerance, I don't drink much. I prefer to drink for special moments, and while this night was absolutely special, it wasn't my special moment. As I sit in the bar, watching the griffon twins celebrate their tag team title win, my vision is suddenly obscured by a stunning Zebra in a black dress that left almost nothing to the imagination. "You should know that it's rude to stare, but when it's you then I don't care."
Zecora, I should have expected her to give me a send off. Boastfully I don't have many weaknesses, but zebra ladies are one of them. I feel my lips curl into a grin as my eyes trace up her figure and meet hers. She responds by coming over and sitting on my lap, legs around my sides and her facing me. Her hand is smooth as silk as it slides along my cheek. "Your show was second to none tonight. You really know how to put on a grand finale." Abandoning the rhyming as she always does for me. I try, my dear. But of course, the beauty is that I don't "try", it all just comes to me.
While many wrestlers will sit in the dressing room for hours before their match talking up every last movement, blink and breath, I keep it simple to talk over just the finish and work out everything in the ropes. Long hair is very useful for this, you can put on a match while having an idle conversation over nothing and the crowd will never suspect a thing.
Before I know it, Zecora has caused me to tap out. I'm powerless against her as she takes hold of my hand and guides me out the bar. Her hips sway hypnotically as she leads me through the quiet town, where our show drew twice the population. Imagine that, people came from all over the region to this small place to watch us. I'm lost in her spell, my eyes having never lost sight of that luscious ass as she guides us back to my hotel. Once inside not a word is spoken as I shed my shirt.
No sooner is my scarred chest exposed that her soft lips touch below my sternum in a delicate kiss. Her hands find my shoulders as her lips kiss my chest again and then one more kiss, this time on my lips as I was looking down at her. My hand drops the zipper on the back of her dress. She next guides me over to the bed, sitting me on the edge before she once more sits in my lap and pushes me onto my back with one of her powerful kisses. I slide back onto the bed fully and lean my head up.
Her hands find each of the dress's straps, sliding each one down the shoulder with a flick, her eyes never leaving me even for an instant. She turns around to show me her rear as she slides the dress slowly and seductively down her figure. She wasn't wearing any lingerie underneath but the dress was so tight on her body that I already knew.
She turns to face me once more, her left arm over her bust and right over her marehood. She takes two slow steps forward and kneels, undoing my pants and sliding them off. I had also eschewed underwear, which caused my already hard stallionhood to be laid bare on my stomach for her. With a smile of lust, her hands find my thighs and pull her face up close to my erection, allowing her breathing to tease it.
I desire nothing more at that moment than to grab her by the hair and force it into her wanting mouth, but she's trained me so well that my hands remain at my sides as she traces her hands around it, her hot breath teasing so much that the sensation is almost painful. Zecora knows exactly what she's doing, and what felt like an eternity later, she purrs Such a good boy and finally rewards my patience, her hands grasping my length and holding it up so her open mouth could take it in.
She has trained me very well, her mouth and tongue travel up and down every centimeter as one hand rubs the base and the other hand supports my balls, but despite the warm sensation and pleasure coursing through me I don't even for an instant consider finishing so early. It's been months since I've had anything, but despite my celibacy, my endurance is as good as ever. Her mouth slides off and both hands squeeze and slide along my length as her mouth envelops my orbs, her eyes once again finding mine.
As she lifts her mouth off, her hands slide me back against the headboard and making me sit up to face her as she mounts me. Her hands admire my figure once more, resting under my chin as she kisses me, her hot slit pressed against my begging cock. She keeps her nose against mine as her hips lift up, her right hand uprights my length and causes the tip to press between her folds, and then her hips lower to take my length in. A hot moan of lust escapes her lips, my hands running down her back and coming to rest on her rump.
Her eyes don't leave mine as her hips slowly lift herself up and push back down my length, I can feel her ass twitching and flexing in my firm grip. The more I squeeze and pull the cheeks apart, the faster she goes, and the more I feel her approach climax. As I feel her shiver and hear her moan with increasing frequency, I lean down, my mouth taking in her breast. I can feel her pleasure increase even further as my sucking tugs softly on the breast, with my tongue brushing over and flicking the hard nipple. Her arms squeeze around the back of my head and she whispers into my ear K... Kovanaya...
I don't know why I find it so arousing when she says my true name, I suspect because of the raw intimacy, but it got the reaction she wanted as my hands released her ass and squeezed her torso against mine as I again found myself in a struggle to avoid my own climax. She can barely get any words out as she whispers once more Kovanaya... I'm gonna cum...
My head lifts off her breasts, licking up her neck and my mouth pressing against hers, and the both of us finish together. Her walls tighten around my stallionhood and she leaks her feminine fluids all over it as I release my inhibitions and fill her insides with thick, scalding rope after rope of my seed. I didn't worry then and I don't worry now about a baby, we both know each other enough to know that we wouldn't want one, at the very least not now. With our final sighs of pleasure escaping at nearly the exact moment, we both fall back onto the bed.
I finally feel myself starting to go soft after what felt like hours and she lifts off me. I'm going to miss these moments, she whispers through her accent. I'm one of the few who is privileged enough to hear her thick accent, as she is one of the few who gets to hear mine. The intimacy is so deep during our afterglow moments, I find it remarkable that I haven't yet been moved to tears from it. I answer back I will too..
That's where our night ended, holding each other close. Though I got a full night's sleep, it really didn't feel like I slept a bit. Leaving my home territory is always difficult, but in the end we know it's for the best. Besides, it's not goodbye after all, it's just Until we meet again.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 4
Well, my last entry failed at making my shrink back off. Now I'm afraid she enjoyed reading about my sex. Writing these isn't as bad as I first thought it was going to be. It is somewhat relaxing to be able to just blurt out, even if into a notebook, what I'm thinking at any given moment.
I didn't remember that the train ride would be this long, making me even more glad that I chose the first class sleep car. It's near dead silent in here. Imagine taking a bus ride that takes two days, cramped in their tiny seats and jammed elbow to elbow with the one next to you. No way, train always and forever.
The long train ride takes me back to my first match. I had graduated university and went to train for a year straight, no days off. Gryphus is very hard, but he wants to see you perform to your full abilities. He's been a trainer for as long as I've been alive, so he has a sense for when someone is taking it casual or otherwise slacking off.
The quality he liked most in me was my desire to be in wrestling. You cannot teach that to anyone. As he himself put it, "For those who get it, no explanation is necessary. For those who do not, no explanation will suffice."
I had trained with just him, sometimes Papa, and occasionally with others who came through on the way to the other territories. Fifteen months of hard labor, then I was hired on by the boss in the Canterlot territory, "The Professor" Gilded Horn.
Though that was his ring name, everyone calls him boss, chief, or sir. Anyone who uses his ring name is quickly corrected go show him the respect he's earned. He was the territory's top draw for decades, never really straying. When he retired he bought a stake in the promotion, and as his money grew he bought out everyone else. Maybe I'll do the same after I'm done.
My first match was a special event battle royale. I was thought to be just a special guest for it, because I had some celebrity status from college athletics, but the boss had a plan for making me his top heel. I remember being so nervous that I would mess something up.
In wrestling, it's eventual that you will make mistakes. What separates the good from the great is how you handle them. If a guy messes up, work it in as part of the match. He suicide dives for to you on the outside but falls short, kick the shit out of him.
Almost all wrestlers never stay in one territory too long, you become stale and everything you do is seen as repetitive and formulaic. The fans lose interest in you. Being cheered or booed is good, it means they care for you. No reaction is the death knell, it means you're just wasting their time.
A lot of territories have a different style of wrestling they do. The South, where I'm heading, is a more technical wrestling, reality-based show. My scholastic and collegiate wrestling will serve me well here, also managers being popular means I won't have to talk much. It's going to be very gritty and rough here. I expect scars when I leave.
The Cloudsdale territory is mostly tag teams and masked wrestlers. Their stories can hit close to home sometimes, but that's the way they like it, personal, fast, and high flying.
The Manhattan and Fillydelphia territory is very story based, the in-ring action serves the story, rather than the other way around. Also they love their big bodies. Papa says it was where he became the most bored because someone of his size or mine is expected to be a large, slow, lumbering wall of meat.
Up north in the Vanhoover territory is brawler land. Lots of street fight matches, death matches, and blood. Hardcore is very popular, being that it's run by the most infamous hardcore brawler of all time, the large unicorn who only goes by The Butcher.
Canterlot is a balance between those, which only makes sense since the fanbase is a mix from all the ends of the lands. It never goes too far into one or the other, but there's shades of everything. The biggest thing here is that you yourself have to be authentic, if you try to be someone you're not, the fans are going to see right through you, even more so than anywhere else.
The train pulls into the station and as I step off, I realize I've made a terrible mistake. I'm wearing a full dress suit with coat, shirt, pants, and all but it had to be at least 100 out. The heat hits as you step off like a chair shot that the opponent forgot to tell you about.
I find my hook up quickly, but I can already feel this suit matting up. I haven't even been off the train for 30 seconds. The first thing he asked was "Isn't it hot in that get up, partner?" No smart-ass, I'm freezing. I'm drowning in my sweat because it's so cold that I just felt my balls crawl up into my stomach. Now get me the hell out of here to where there's AC.
It's so hot that on the car ride I ditch the coat and shirt, wearing just my undershirt and pants. He's a buffalo who looks like he'd never even set foot in a gym. He goes by Earthquake, and he has the book here. Interesting that the promoter himself doesn't, but if it works then it works.
My first match is 25 minutes with a newer guy who works stiff. They want me to hopefully mentor him a bit and maybe even beat a little sense into him, because the idea is to not hurt opponents. No issue here, I can wring him out like a wet cloth. It's at the spot show tomorrow night.
I meet the kid after lunch as Quake gives me a tour of the arena. This kid, Thunderbolt, is one of the head cases who over thinks everything. He wants to talk the match now, but I send him away. If we talk the match, it's in the ring while working.
After dinner and the evening workout I scope the bar scene. Unfortunately, all but one plays that country music crap. I find the one that does and take a familiar spot in the back corner as I write. An older unicorn mare finds me and compliments my body.
As she leans over my table to show her breasts to me that she crammed in the dress, she sways her hips and drums her fingers. Red nail polish says she really wants someone tonight, as does the flower bouquet perfume she wears. She also clearly spent a lot of time straightening her purple hair with the electric teal streak. Her powder purple body does look like it's well cared for.
Bought me a beer at the bar, she's passed the first test. Tells me she's looking for a real stud to take home tonight. Swears she's not looking for anything past tonight and tries to play the domination game by not saying exactly what she wants from me.
By running her in circles though I do get her to break and tell me outright she wants me to pin her down and drill her. See, was that so hard to say from the beginning? I get her to tell me where she stays and I'll consider it. She wants to act tough and commanding, but I've played the game enough to know she wants to be taken advantage of.
My interest in her offer is enough to make her happy and she leaves. I spend another hour at the place and then leave, but not for her place. No one gets the gift of my company on the first night. She can just wait a few days, at the very least I want her to grovel for it.
The hotel room is very cold, as I intentionally left the AC running the whole time. This is going to be very trying as it was still over 90 out at midnight. As for the lady, her name was Starlight by the way, I'll just leave her to herself and see what happens. I want to see if I'm the right stud or the right now one.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 5
I sat in the stands for a spot show a few nights after my first match here. I'd seen passionate fans before, but this was a completely different level. I can expect to have things thrown at me on the way to the ring if I am to work as a heel. There was twice the police presence I'd ever seen before, and they even have a whole squad in riot gear standing by. Quake said that riots are indeed a common occurence here.
I'm not sure when, or even if, I'll be getting back to Starlight about her offer. I still haven't heard anything from her since that brief encounter we had on my first night in town. She's probably forgotten about me, but I don't seem to care much. I don't know if that's because I know there's going to be many other ladies, or if that's because I'm just wanting only what I had back home.
Travel day, I'm in a census designated place. It's too small to even be a town, yet their county auditorium will be at legal capacity, and Quake says the fire marshal will be turning people away himself. To give an idea why this is remarkable, this place has a population of about 400, but the house is a capacity of 1000. People love their wrestling so much that they come out of the mountains to watch. Literally the entire village will be closed to attend.
Because there's absolutely nothing to do in that town I decide to stay at home base for as long as I safely can to make the show. Workout is very routine, light duty because I'm in action tonight. I decide to humor myself by reading a newspaper, finding that wrestling has its own column, where they put results, promote upcoming shows, and give in-depth analysis. Quake says he pays a pretty penny for it but it keeps the houses full.
Late afternoon, Quake stops by to take me and a couple others to the show. I decide to take a book of crossword puzzles to keep me occupied. There is nothing to see on the ride over. I catch bits and pieces of the other wrestlers and Quake conversing and it's nothing really new or interesting, mostly talking about ring rats (they are to wrestling what groupies are to rock bands), whatever is going on with their wives, and comparing houses they've done elsewhere.
I should have known it was coming, but I still feel a bit surprised as they ask me about myself. I don't know if they're insulated or just too caught up in the sport but they're surprised to know that I'm a national champion in freestyle all four years of University, and three out of four years of high school. Also more surprised that my university's basketball team won the national title twice.
I was very good at basketball. I still am very good with it, but promoters don't want me to play it much because of injury risk, which is funny to consider when we're throwing each other around on a hard piece of canvas-covered wood night after night. Many think I should have never joined wrestling and instead gone pro in basketball. I'm sure I could have pulled it off but professional wrestling has always been my passion for as long as I can remember.
They want to know about the ladies I've given myself to. I'm far too well-mannered to speak of Zecora around them, though we aren't committed, so it's really not lying when I say I don't have a girlfriend. They then ask about my ring rats, "especially those babes in Canterlot." I don't have any, and say as much. They only laugh and say to not worry because it'll change out here. This makes me wonder if I shouldn't just blow off Starlight like I have been. I had intended to because Zecora, but if we're not really committed then is it really an issue?
We were lying in bed, Zecora and I. It was our first time together, and she had told me about herself. She then decided to get me to break my silence with "So tell me about yourself, Kovanaya." I hadn't expected to be asked about me, much less in such a genuinely interested way. I tried to brush it off by saying no one really wants to know that. She responded by kising my chin and saying "But I do..."
I proceeded to tell her everything, from how Papa disappeared more or less when I was five, to his and mother's divorce, to the abuse Sister and I suffered under mother and also about how I found myself through athletics. She was tearful hearing it all, as was I recounting it all for her. She kissed me once more as her head rested under my chin and there was silence a moment more. "Why haven't you told anyone?" Not only because it hurt so deeply, but also because I do still fear my mother finding me.
A long moment of silence came over us yet again. I got to thinking about how she always called me by my real name in adoration, how she wouldn't talk in her usual rhyme around me, and how she had said she trusted me enough to be herself around me. I then asked if we should commit to each other.
"You travel a lot. I know you have certain urges that I wouldn't be around to fulfill all the time." Sex? "Yes, but also just what we're doing now." I could give up wrestling just to stay here. "Do you want to do that?" No, but... "Exactly. I don't mind us being just special friends if you don't." I had no response to this. A moment later she says "If I change my mind, I promise I'll be the one to ask you." And we just left it at that.
Apparently I'm sleeping as I recount that all in my head because I come back to the present moment to Quake paintbrush slapping me. "We're here, partner, let's get going." We're at the tiny place, sheriff's deputies holding back the fans from our parking space. I grab my bag from the trunk and follow the boys into the dressing room. "Y'all sleep like a corpse, partner." I've heard it before, I don't think much of it.
The locker room is small, to the point of where faces and heels have to dress together. Shouldn't expect much for a 1000 seat auditorium that looks like a giant barn. My opponent, I'm facing Thunderbolt again, wants to talk over the match and doesn't even greet me. He just sits beside me and starts going over spots until I shush him. If we talk over our match before we're in the ring, I tell him, I'll come to you. He sneers at me before walking off in a huff. Who the hell trained this punk?
In my gear, I just sit in the locker room and write. The old timers are playing poker, the talents about my age are gathered around a small TV with a video game plugged in, the non wrestling talents are by gorilla position monitoring the match. Everyone's talking with everyone, except me. I just sit here and write, I look like I don't belong. Quake comes up to me "Yer next, partner." I follow him back to gorilla, and I can see behind the curtian that this tiny place makes only 1,100 look like 11,000. Thunder's intro plays, he walks by me with a sneer. Quake snorts, taking another dip of his chew, "What's his problem?"
Kid's a micromanager, I don't know if he'll get far because his improv is a dumpster fire. I think he needs more training. Quake nods, taking in my suggestion. "Yer right, I knew gettin you to work would get me honest answers about the twit." My music hits and Quake gives me a swat on the ass before I step out, "Go get 'im, partner!"
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 6
So I've now had four very sub-par matches with Thunderbolt. Quake says this morning at workout that he's getting pulled from the card for more training. I suggest Gryphus, and Quake laughs, then says he'll think about it. It's not just that I hate that kid's attitude and want him to be kicked down a few pegs, but also that Gryphus is an excellent trainer.
My sleep schedule keeps shifting later as I have to carpool to all of our spot shows. I don't start on TV until two weeks because all of this month's TV shows were taken care of. Mercifully all the TV shows are here in Apploosa. The TV shows should take about a week to shoot, and will serve all of next month.
There's so little to do out here besides workout, eat, and sleep. I've already completed three fairly long novels since I came out here three weeks ago. I'm going to need to take up a new hobby to occupy my time. Maybe I could fictionalize my life and write a book of my own. Ha ha ha.
Today I finally went and saw Sister. She's found herself a marefriend for the time being, they seem quite happy together. I didn't get to meet her as she works a regular job and was out. Sister and I went to workout together. She was impressed with how much more intense my regimen has become. She also liked that my presence meant she got far fewer sneers at the gym.
We then went to lunch together and talked about her. As I suspected she has been to jail several times, though never charged with anything. She says they're scared to because they know she'll get the royal court to strike their unlawful assembly laws. Sensing, rightfully, that I'm not into that sort of discussion she instead talks about her marefriend. Her marefriend is already thinking of adopting but Sister has to slow that down whenever it comes up. It's not that Sister doesn't want kids, but she feels that now wouldn't be a good time.
The conversation came to me. I talked about my time in Canterlot territory, about my few weeks out here. She can relate to my downtime boredom and says that she'll be happy to try some hobbies out with me and see what most suits my interests. She also says there's a local book club that I might like, I may have to check that out. The conversation goes back to her work again, she's very passionate and greatly enjoys it so I can hardly fault her.
She eventually relates to me before I leave for the evening that she was back home the other month. Sister came out to the family and they were more than happy for her. Her unionizing the police came in handy because she found that mother was still in and out of mandatory psych holds, but this time she slipped on her ruse and managed to land in jail for about a year. Good fucking riddance. She also mentioned that Papa and Babushka are worried about her safety. I of course laughed along with Sister, but I also fear for her.
Sister is very effective, for better or for worse, at what she does because she is relentless and fearless. She does not fear jail, beatings, or any other consequences that might happen and have happened to her. My deepest fear for her is that she's going to end up pitted against someone just as fearless as her and she's going to be the one who loses out. I spoke to her about it once years ago and she promised me she does not and will never do anything reckless, but my family and especially I know how she sometimes can get some very severe tunnel vision.
I did not stay for dinner with Sister because she said I couldn't be invited. This was their six month memorial and her marefriend wanted just the two of them for it. I instead had a quiet dinner by myself and caught a basketball game on the TV at the family restaurant. One of my college teammates was playing on one of the teams, it's great to see him succeeding. After dinner, I decided to see a local rock band's show at the one bar that doesn't play country garbage here. That's where I ran into her again...
Starlight had to have been waiting for me. No sooner than ten minutes after I sit down with water, she walks right over to my table and asks if I'm okay. Of course I'm fine, what a strange way to strike conversation. She continutes, "I figured you'd wait a while before dropping by, but you never showed up. I get the feeling you're not playing the long game. So, either I'm the problem, or you've got a problem."
She's sharper than I gave her credit for. I take a slow sip, acting like the gears are turning in my head before I ask what makes her think that. "I just wanted to clarify. I think differently from a lot of people so I have trouble, uh... reading the room." I get that she's interested in me, so why me? "You're... weird."
Quite the flatterer, she is. I'm much more than just that as I grin slightly. She continues "I kinda envy you. I know there's a lot knocking around in that noggin of yours but at least you can keep it down. I try to suppress my bluntness but it all comes pouring out. Ten pounds of feelings in a five pound can."
I suppose we aren't so different. I tell her that because she shows persistence and I now get the feeling that I'm not just a one-and-done, I'll humor her for tonight. She smiles and says I won't regret my choice.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 7
Nothing much really happened with myself and Starlight. I let her take me back to her place and she told me her story.
I did not stay the night. I left a little after midnight to my place and just went to bed. I wake up around 10 and go through my usual morning routine. Coffee, breakfast, stretches, and then to the gym. I see Sister there again so we work out together once more. She goes into a little detail about their six month date, and I mostly tune out the details because I don't care for them. Sister is very happy with her, though, and that in turn makes me happy.
Sister is my first actual friend in my life, and the one I have known the longest. She will do almost anything for me, and I for her. Mercifully for the both of us, we draw a line to where we ask favors of each other. She does not ask me to do anything political for her, and I do not ask her to give up what she loves. We continue to work out for about an hour.
Suddenly we are interrupted by a loud crash and an older stallion pinned under weights. I immediately rush over and throw the bar clear of him to get him free. Sister is held back by who I think was the stallion's friend. She pushes him to the ground and begins first aid, yelling at the dumbfounded staff to call for help. The friend starts to pull Sister away from the hurt patron, and I'm having none of that. I forcefully pull him away from Sister and pin him to the floor sharp enough to make him yelp.
When help finally arrives I let him up and give him a look that I can tell made his blood ice cold. The medics are surprised that sister helped the man and I find out from conversation why the friend may have tried to pull sister away. It turns out that the one who got hurt was the owner of the local freight railroad company that was in a bitter lockout with the union represented by Sister. The medics said that her help has probably saved the stallion's life.
Many are surprised, Sister has built a large "ice queen" reputation about herself. The police even consider arresting her until the assembled crowd blocks them from doing so. They eventually relent and obviously Sister is interviewed by local media. She says it best, "Just because he is my bitter rival doesn't mean he doesn't have a family. I may despise his business practices, but at the end of the day he is a pony just like me, and how would I want someone to react if I were in danger?"
With this bringing an abrupt end to my workout session, I walk with Sister back to her house. She offers to let me stay the day, but I decline. The heat has me feeling off, so I go back to home base. With the AC running constantly, I get paid enough to afford to stay here. I change out of gym clothes and into just shorts. I figure I'll watch some old wrestling while I write
Quake is connected here like I am back in Canterlot, his former tag partner is a landlord and owns a ton of condos around here. He keeps them around to rent them to talent who come and go, like myself. It's nothing really special with just two bedrooms, a kitchen and a living room. It's just fine for me, I really don't need much space, which is a bit funny to think since I'm so large.
I sit and think back to the previous night. Since Starlight told me about herself, it was only fair I said a little about me. I told her of my high school and university years, but I left out everything before. Those scars run much too deep to show on first actual night together. My mind goes back before her house though, when she was asking about me right now. There was a stallion looking at me, but not in curiousity. He was looking at me the way Starlight did. It's been quite a while since I had that from a stallion.
I eventually doze off and have a dream. I'm laying on my bed at my apartment in Canterlot. I feel my shorts slide off and Zecora begins massaging me. She tells me about a sexual streak she had with one of Princess Twilght's friends, the clothier Rarity. She talks about Rarity because she knows that I've long had eyes on her as well but have never been lucky enough to say anything to her.
Zecora goes on to talk about what Rarity likes, how she would bend her fingers just a way to make the other mare shiver, how she would nibble her breasts to make her scream in pleasure, and how Zecora would press her tongue between Rarity's folds to make her a moaning mess. She then lays on top of me, pulls me on top of her, and pulls the covers over us as she holds me tight. She then purrs, "Tell me about your trip, Kovanaya..."
I then wake up to Quake slapping me again. "Shit, partner, we're gonna be late if you don't get goin." I catch glimpse of the clock and find out I slept through the afternoon and there isn't even time to change. I run to the bedroom, grab my gear, pull a shirt on and hop in the car. On the ride to the armory that's hosting tonights' show, I find out that I'm going to have a real match this time, and it's going to get me over as a real threat. I'm going to "injure" their hardcore griffon, Corvus the Crippler.
In the locker room, I stick to my crossword puzzle, thinking about our match. I glance back over at Quake who gives me the nod, it's time. Close the book, tape my fingers and wrists then off to gorilla. I meet Corvus for the first time there, and he tells me it's his left talon that's been sore this week. I'm going to break it so he can get some rest, and also get over. We shake and he gives the old griffon tradition of a friend by digging claws. He's trusting me here. Music hits and we're off.
It's always incredible to feel the air leave a building, the way that a crowd is screaming in excitement and then in an instant goes almost dead silent. When Crippler lept off for his diving headbutt the roof was about to blow off the building, but when I countered into a powerbomb and slapped on my cloverleaf the whole place gasped. They started to rouse him to victory but when I leaned back enough that his leg touched him in his head, you could hear his agonizing screech echo through the place as he tapped out.
As I had my hand raised and stared down at him, he thrashed around on the mat holding his leg. The whole place was dead silent, aside from the weak disbelieving jeers. I could even see some kids crying in the front row as I made my slow walk back his entourage running full speed to the ring. I keep my stone expression until I'm behind the curtain, when Quake throws his arms around me. "Y'all did it, partner! Ya killed it tonight!" When Crippler gets back to the curtain, his arms also go around me and his smile is almost as big as Quake's, "You're now the most dangerous wrestler around, bud. You're made!"
We're the last of the night so the crowd files out, still in stunned silence. I've changed out of ring gear and back into my shorts and shirt. I go to the car but Quake pulls me back "Hold on, partner. Gotta wait for police. These fans will put yer head on a pike for getting Corvus." As we wait in the service entrance, the police do come but even they look at me sideways. Corvus wouldn't be one of the top talents if he wasn't a master of selling. They walk us to our van, a mob gathered outside the fence. Police cruisers box us as we head out, providing a good buffer to keep the fans from me.
On the road I go back to my crosswords and my thoughts. I sit in the far back so I can't be seen as we stopped at a fast food shop before the trip back to Appleoosa. I only get a side salad, some fries, and two of the apple slices they throw in kids meals. Quake gets a triple hayburger with everything on it. I tried eating like that once and I couldn't leave my apartment for two days. I stay quiet as Quake spends the whole trip going over the business end of the show. I get dropped off at my house and the van leaves.
I walk up the path and I see the guy from the bar the other night. He sees me and quickly looks the other way, walking around the corner slightly faster than before. Now the thoughts go through my head since he knows where I live. Is he a crazed fan? Is he a paparazzo? Stalker? Now I'm psyching myself out, I shrug it off as he just saw me the other night and recognized me. Besides if it was that bad (and it's not), dealing with him would be like breaking a twig. With nothimg more to do, and spent from the match, I retire for the night.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 8
At my last spot show I also injured another guy, but not as severe this time. The crowd was livid and threw garbage at me. I caught a battery, but thankfully with my hands instead of my head. It makes me a bit worried, but Quake says not to worry so I don't.
I really can't worry about it, because if you're always worried about whether your heat goes too far or is going to get someone to try and hurt you, it's going to take away from your work. Besides, if you ever do get in real danger as a heel, the babyfaces will come bail you out by breaking up the crowd and fighting you to the back.
The crowds here are rough. Every manager here carries some gimmick that has both a good reach and ability to be loaded or weighed down. I've already seen some fans get too rowdy (drunk) and get their "reward" for jumping the barrier. The other week one guy got clubbed with a baseball bat for hopping on a manager's back right in front of two cops who got hurdled. They arrested the manager but Quake making a very generous donation to their retirement fund and fraternal order got that to all blow over.
So the guy I'm going to feud with, I tweaked his ankle at the spot show. Quake says this is my big break, Slapjack is very over. He's of course not the main draw, but he can sell a house if put in the top spot. I didn't think I was going to the main event picture anyways, you should never expect that if you're new in a territory unless you're world's champion. Unlike that kid Thunderbolt, Slapjack actually likes to improvise in the ring as we go.
TV is this week. As I said before, we shoot the whole month in one go. Some of the vets call this hell week because it's going to be almost a week solid of 12-14 hour days. Between TV matches, TV promos, and local promos, there's very little down time. It's also crowded too as the studio isn't very big but it's all hands on deck.
I can't write much during TV. My first day I have a squash, a few hours going over TV promos, a local promo, then a second squash. I stay around for the whole day because Quake doesn't know if he wants me to run in. I don't get called and I leave around mid evening. Sister asks me to come to dinner with her and girlfriend but I have to decline as I'm just blown up from the day. Nothing much happens, I don't hear from Starlight and don't see that guy from the other night again.
The next day of taping I'm not in action, it's all promos all day. The vast majority of our content shot will just end up on the cutting room floor. As much as some complain about the hours, it's worse for Quake. He puts in 20 hour days some months and I overheard him say that he's probably going to go a full 24 this month. He definitely loves what he does though, he never complains (at least not around us).
In the evening I do decide to go have dinner with sister since I finished early. I finally meet Sister's girlfriend, Rusty. She's a local mechanic, a somewhat reserved, but very genuine lady. I ask if she made the dinner and she just laughed, saying that she can fix anything but food. Fair enough, I often feel like I have issues cooking too.
Rusty spends most of the day at her shop downtown, today's project was her completely rebuilding a refrigerator. Of course she asks about me, so I go over my past couple days. She's a bit surprised by all the work, having a very simplistic view of pro wrestling. I don't mind, she was apologetic about it and said that it wasn't her thing. I admit that wrestling isn't everybody's thing.
So the evening is spent with her and I getting acquainted. I'm happy for Sister, she's found a great lady. I eventually leave around 9 and start walking back to home base. I pass by my club and consider a drink, peering in the window. I see that guy again, but with no one yet again. I don't know why I keep going back to him in my mind, perhaps it's just the mystery around him. I decide not to drink since I have yet another early start in the morning, going back to home base for another early night.
The next day I do a squash, more promos, and this time a run-in on Slapjack's match. It leads to a brawl with the entire cast of referees and staff coming to break it up. This is late in the day, so Slap and I cut our promos, our only one-takes so far, and we're free to go. Quake surprises me and says that today is all he needs from me for this month's TV and I'm free to skip the rest of the week.
Well, with TV done I decide it's as good a time as ever for a drink. I head down to my bar, and get myself a straight vodka. It's the first time in a while I feel like I can relax. I space out listening to the live band for a few hours. Despite it being miserably hot out here, the fans being a very considerable hazard to life and limb, and the work schedule being very tight, I feel like my trip here is going to be a resounding success.
My self-congratulations are interrupted a time later as I'm snapped back to the real world by a familiar figure, but it's not who I thought it would be. I was expecting Starlight to come to me and make another pass on me, but instead it was that stallion. His hair was brown like the table's woodgrain, his light eyes seemed nervous as he asked "Hey, this spot taken?"
I easily tip that he's caught me off guard in my pause, but he starts to get up with "N-never mind.." I stop and invite him back. No it's not taken. He sits back down, clearly relaxing a bit. I tell him that I'm just a bit cautious since he'd watched me for quite a while my last few trips here, as well as seen where I live. At the very least he plays like he didn't recognize me with an "Oh, so that was you getting out of that van."
So you want to sit at my table and meet my acquaintance but won't tell me your name? "Oops, sorry, I'm Caramel." I ponder my options for an instant, but realizing my stature know that I couldn't hide my persona long give him my common name, Forged Steel. He doesn't follow wrestling because without any hesitation at all he smiles and says it's nice to meet me.
He works on an apple farm, first started as just a lowly apple harvester, but worked himself up to a foreman. I try to keep it generic, saying that I'm in athletics. He guesses wrestling, I ask how he figures, and he says it's easily the biggest sport around here. Fair enough, yeah I'm a wrestler. He says that's how my name sounds familiar, a few guys on the farm were talking about me. He's smart enough to the sport, saying that he won't tell any of them about me.
He notices that I'm writing the whole time and asks me about it. I tell him it's just a little journal I do to keep my head on my shoulders. I assume he gets that I don't want to go into it so he just drops the subject. He offers to buy me a beer, and I accept (can't really turn down a free drink).
I return the favor by offering to buy him a drink of his choice, he refuses many times and I don't press. He's a local and tells me a little about growing up, says this town is as old fashioned as it looks. I tell him a little about home and how it's much the same, though hospitality is top notch. Caramel says that even here is the same way. I suppose I should maybe go out more.
Our conversation continues like that for a while, standard "getting to know you" talk. The band finishes up, I pay for both of us, and start to leave. He asks if I'll be around, and I will be. I think I've made a friend as I go home and call a night.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 9: "You might hurt him"
Entry 9
I wake up early enough to get to the gym and join both Sister and Rusty for workout. Rusty jokes that I should work out with her every day so that all the meat heads leave her alone. I guess Rusty feels a little inspired by me because she moves up on her usual weight loads and manages to pull through. After the workout, we all go back to her house. Rusty goes off to her shop for the day, leaving just sister and I.
She suggests a few things about what to do in my off time. I ask her to teach me dance, and she's surprised by the idea. I tell her that there's a few ladies I know who would be impressed and she agrees, "it helps in the bedroom too."
I'm tempted to ask if she dances on her girlfriend's face, and then I remember what's at stake. I keep my mouth shut and let her begin going over the basics. As you can probably imagine, we don't make much progress in the day. Though many wrestlers compare what we do to dancing, it doesn't translate much. By evening I feel like I'm getting a good grasp of the basics as Rusty walks in on us. She remarks "Oh, great, you're dancing on your brother's face too? I thought you loved me."
I close my eyes, and and tempted to cut a promo but decide it's not in my best interests to alienate my future in-laws. Sister has nothing to say but her usually pink face is now deep red. With the day mostly over I leave and let them have the evening to themselves. I then have nothing to do for the rest of the evening, so I return to home base and practice what we worked on.
The next day is much of the same, workout with Sister, her dance lessons, and then back to my house to practice what's worked on. This is the new routine for the next few days, then on the next Tuesday spot shows resume. I have most of the day to myself as I want to get in the zone, and our first show of the month is a larger show in Appleoosa.
Just as I was doing in the last territory, I take a limo-like ride to the show with a police escort to keep fans a safe distance. The arena is big enough so there's separate dressing rooms again, and Quake nods me to the heel dressing room. People are looking at me with admiration as I walk in. I'm tempted to ask what's going on but Motorhead, one of the part timers and agents, cues me in.
"Semi main event and only one month, you sure know how to get them angry at ya. You're a heat magnet like I used to be." Corvus, who's hanging out, snickers at the remark, getting a dirty look from him "Thank you, by the way did I mention you're cut out of the will?"
As they trade barbs over Motor's past, I go over to a spot and begin to change. I go and check my match, and sure enough I'm second-to-last to go. Quake is really pushing me and has a lot of confidence in mine and Slap's feud. As usual, the older guys begin their poker games and the younger ones gather around the TV for games, while I'm sitting by my bag writing and doing crosswords.
I go to gorilla for a little bit to see what's going on in the ring. Outlaw and Lockjaw are having a good brawl, and Nefarious is going to do a run-in. The Farmhands are waiting for their tag match, and the Mavericks are waiting around the corner in the babyface dressing room to go with Farmhands. As I look out at gorilla, Nefarious goes for his run in. All of a sudden a fan vaults the barricade and grabs him around the waist. Police are quick to follow but Nefarious gives him a sharp elbow jab to break free, and the officers drag the fan behind the curtain, sitting him in a chair.
The guy's looking down as he begins to realize he's in trouble now. I tell him that I'd deck him but I won't hit nearly as hard as Nefarious will when he comes back. Nefarious comes back a moment after Lockjaw comes back. The fan stands up to I presume apologize but before he can get a word out, Nefarious swings a hand and gets the fan with a slap right under the jaw. I see the fan's hooves leave the ground as he flies back, hits the wall behind and falls to the ground, down for the count. Nefarious grumbles in his native tongue as he walks back to the heel dressing room. Meanwile, Farmhands have a match so they just step over the fan and walk to their ring.
About 20 minutes later, I'm back in the heel locker room area as Farmhands return from their match and I hear an ambulance pull in. A few of the older guys chuckle to themselves, having heard from Nefarious what happened. I peek around the corner and see the medics tending to the fan and preparing to take him away, the two police in tow. I walk back by Nefarious and ask for how hard he hit the guy, why not just punch his face in? His response is incredible, he puts his hands up and says "Woah, Steely, ya can't hit a guy with a fist, you might hurt him!"
The poker table nods at his words, obviously trying not to laugh. This is just how Nefarious thinks, really. My match is coming up soon so I begin to wind myself up for it. Three head rotations clockwise, two anti-clockwise, crack left hand, crack right, three hard slaps with both hands to the cheeks and tape the wrists. I finish up with the tape as I get back to gorilla. Slap is waiting there and he nods to me. With my music playing to thunderous jeers I head out.
Tonight had two firsts for me. First time involved in a fan riot and first time hitting a fan. I work over Slap's left ankle all match long, the one I injured during our last spot show, and put him in an ankle lock. Slap gets the ropes and I refused to let up. The referee DQ's me as we planned, and all of a sudden I take a battery to the right eyebrow. It busts me open and the blood runs down my muzzle as the fan three rows back who threw it stands up and curses at me.
The referee pushes me away from the ropes, presumably to keep me away and asks me if I see who did it. Of course I did, he's challenging me now. The ref then loosesns his grip and says, clean him up. I give him a ref bump, getting the crowd angry, make a beeline for the fan who suddenly looses his courage, and my slap sent him a good three rows back. I see the snuff fly from his lip as his buddies begin to fight me. I dispatch one with a sharp kick to the knee, which causes him to howl and the other I throw head-first into the barricade. I hop back over as several fans now begin to run down the main aisle at me. Mercifully I already see the riot police running out to nip this in the bud.
I can hear the ref telling me to work over Slap again, so I go back to the ankle lock as I see fans getting clocked by police batons. About a dozen referees come running down the aisle at me, pull me off Slap, and begin to walk me back to the dressing room, with drinks and various trash being thrown at me. I'm greeted behind the curtain by medics wanting to stitch me up, and by Quake. I start to say something but he hushes me and says that he saw everything and he has my back.
It takes about 10 or 15 minutes to restore order, I believe Quake says after the show that there were 17 arrests, and the main event goes off. I change back to my normal clothes and wait until after the show for my cue to leave. The Sheriff is waiting at the back entrance and is in a talk with Quake. They stop for a moment, the Sheriff points at me and says "You got yer one reprieve, kid. Quake, I'm serious this time. If yer talent touches a fan again I have no choice but to arrest 'im." Quake nods in understanding with a "Yes, sir." and the Sheriff leaves.
We hop in Quake's car and the police convoy leads me to outside the city, where Quake drives us around for about half an hour to lose anyone who might be following. He then drops me off at my house, walking me up to the door to prevent someone from jumping me, and I go in to call it a night.
In the morning the area around my stitches has swelled, so I decide I can't go out because I'll be seen. Sister comes over to work with me on dancing, and asks what happened. I tell her the story and she remarks that the fan got off easy. We work for about an hour and I start to feel dizzy. We stop for a little while and she decides to try to work with me again, but we don't get very far before the dizziness returns. We decide to not push it and so I first call Quake and tell him I won't make tonight's spot show. I tell him what's going on and he orders me to a doctor.
The good news is the knot isn't permanent and the stitches are fine, but the bad news is the battery gave me a concussion, my first ever. The doctor writes me a note and Sister runs it to Quake for me, who says I'll be off the spot shows for a week. He says I'll still get paid the same since it's not my fault, and to check back with the doctor after a week. The rest of my day is lazy, just laying down for most of it and doing some crosswords. Sister stays overnight, I try to tell her it's not needed but she won't have any of it.
I only hope I haven't made a mistake by working such an intense territory. I guess this is why the territory was rumored to be blackballed by the world champ for the longest time. Sister hopes I can go back to dancing soon, I want to go back to exercise and wrestling quickly.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 10: Concussion Blues
Entry 10
It's painful to want to do something but you can't. Because of my concussion, I'm confined to my house. I cannot even go for a workout, because I have to rest. For days all I do is wake up, putter around the house, go to the doctor for a concussion panel, then putter around the house some more, then back to bed. For five days this goes on, though it feels like five years.
The panel tests are getting to me too. It also is the same thing every day, first a round of questions, next a written questionnaire, after that a hand-eye coordination test, then a reflex reaction test, then a quiz on some of the questions I was asked in the first part. All this I have to suffer for days, just because some drunk prick threw a battery at me.
Concussions have become a large cause for concern in all of sports over the past 10 years. According to the brochure I was handed, research has found that head trauma after one is already concussed can cause accelerated decay of the brain. This must be the 1000th time I've read this little thing. I don't know why I keep going back to it, perhaps just because there really isn't anything else to do.
According to the pamphlet, concussions can happen even when you don't lose consciousness. Any blow to the head is liable to cause one, which is why it says to see a doctor for the symptoms it lists. Allegedly it can manifest immediately, a few hours after, or sometimes a few days after the initial blow.
Wrestling continues to be very "cowboy" about concussions, each individual promotions make their own rules and most are lax. Many think that concussion tests are going to expose the business, but they're just old people. Not every blow to the head results in a concussion so I don't see what the problem is. Besides, it gives heels another way to get heat with that chair to the head. Quake is strict about any blow to the head, he says he's seen too many good people lose too much because they tried to tough it out.
So after six days of being a bump on a log, the doctor sends me to the gym with a nurse and has me do only cardio. At least I'm doing some sort of exercise, so I try to lighten up. I give a good hour of run/walk and stationary biking, enough that I get that solid, satisfying burn in the legs. After the cardio I go through the tests again. The doctor tells me to avoid all exercise until I see him tomorrow, so no dancing with Sister.
The next day, doctor has me go through my usual workout routine under the nurse's supervision. At the gym she scolds me for going too hard, but all the regulars set her straight, I really do go this intense every day. She backs off and it feels so good to do a full workout once again. Even their crappy gym showers feel good on my back. After I wash and get dressed, I go through the tests again. The nurse seems pleased with the results and leaves with the same instructions as before, nothing more unless the doctor gives the OK.
After I get back to home base, the doctor says things are looking good and I can finally go back to my normal day routine for tomorrow but to be sure to check back with him for a test. I tell Sister that we can resume dance tomorrow and she's overjoyed. I don't know whether to be happy or scared of this.
I finally get to feel normal for the first time in several days. I wake up, have breakfast, and then get to workout. Although I go by myself and it feels lonely, I'm not bothered because it's so relieving to feel like myself again. I get back to home base a couple hours later where Sister is waiting for me for our dance lessons, or what I thought would be lessons.
She has decided to give me a pop quiz on everything she's taught me so far. I try to worm my way out of it by saying that I haven't been able to practice in over a week. Sister is not so easily dissuaded, saying that I also had a week to think on what she's told me during our lessons, especially that I need to lead. I think to try and argue but for every bit as strong as I am physically, Sister is more strong in her resolve.
So I take her hands and not even 30 seconds in the scolding begins. She keeps ridiculing me for being so passive. Apparently being a walking slab of meat means I'm obligated to lead. That means I have to focus on the lady while also moving my legs in controlled, precise rotations. I normally only get this close to someone before I slam them to the mat. Or she's Zecora and we're about to get a lot closer... That was the thought that kept me from quitting in embarrassment. I'm not passive. I'm not supposed to be.
By the same token however, I feel I cannot lead being so rusty and sparsely trained to begin with. The longer I put off taking control, the more Sister nags, yells and screams at me. I feel my frustration building and starting to boil over, and then I notice her stop scolding me and her having a huge smile.
As my annoyance built up, I had unknowingly grabbed her tightly and was forcing her along in the direction I wanted to go. She squeals excitedly "That's it, Kovie" I hate when she calls me that and she knows it. "That's it right there, you have to take over because everything I just shouted at you is going to be said to you by your partner if you don't. She may not say it, or even whisper it, but you'll see her disappointment and disgust with you in her body language and in her eyes."
It all rings familiar of what Gryphus taught me about calling the match during training. I'm large and in charge. I know how to make the match work for me. I have to take over the match from the beginning. Don't even ask the guy to let me call it, just start when we lock up at the bell. I have to have this mentality on the dance floor.
By now Sister sees the clock and panics, it's already evening and she is now late to get back to make dinner for her and Rusty. I also forgot about my doctor's appointment, or I would have if Sister didn't nearly steamroll him running out the door. His house call isn't what surprises me the most, that would be who was waiting behind him, Caramel.
I invite them both in, Caramel says he was a bit worried about me seeing the doctor wait for so long outside my house as well as him not seeing me out and about for the past week. I tell him about the concussion and what brought it on, naturally it spooks him a bit. I tell him to sit in the kitchen for a bit while I go through the tests.
The panel starts the same as it has for the past week, rapid fire questions about myself and everything I know. It gets a bit more peculiar as the doctor continues his questions while I do the written form and even during the coordination and reaction tests. After he's satisfied, he lets me go to the kitchen to take a break.
I offer a drink to Caramel, and he declines. I don't think I've ever seen him drink. He starts talking about what's been happening on the apple groves, and I'm always oddly fascinated by it all. Farm work seems so backbreaking, which is funny to think about since my work can be literally backbreaking. It gives me a great appreciation of how Wineberry and North Star can do it every day for over 10 years now.
During our next break in conversation, the doctor starts asking me what the fourth, fifth, and six questions he asked me were. Now is the final part of the test, as he grills me to repeat back what he asked me over half an hour ago. The doctor then stops after a few minutes and says that I'm clear to return to wrestling. I struggle to contain my excitement at the news as he peels back the bandage. Before the doctor leaves he says to come by his office tomorrow after my workout and he'll remove the stitches. I now have a clean bill of health and can go back to causing riots again.
Obviously Caramel had to ask about why I had my bell rung, so I told him about being hit by a battery in the head and that I set the guy straight. He was a little upset that I did but he said he could understand why I went and thumped him. It dawns on him that there was a basketball game tonight and asks if I wanted to watch. I can't pass up an opportunity, so I ask him to put it on.
As the game plays, it becomes obvious Caramel was asking just to be nice but didn't know much about the game, so I take the chance to explain it to him. I start with positions, fouls, and simple things such as shot-and-one. By the second half he's got a good grasp so I go into some plays such as iso, horns, and into strategy such as when to switch defensively, when to go to zone and how to help yourself if mismatched. All the talk of the game makes me miss it and I keep a mental note to stay after at the gym and play in a game with some of the regulars.
After the game, I let him pick what to watch and am surprised that he chooses a classical music concert. Classical has always been a bit of a guilty pleasure for me. As he sits, eventually I notice that he's thinking of something, but wasn't sure if he should say it. I prod him about it but he refuses, so I leave it be.
As time goes on, I see it bothering him even more so I again ask. Caramel refuses again, but this time I tell him to tell me. He eventually says that he doesn't like women, at least as more than friends. That's fine with me, I've never had any problem with someone being gay. He then says "I mean you, I really like you."
This however catches me by surprise, and I sit silently in a bit of shock. This appears to be the wrong reaction as he looks away and weakly mutters an apology for bothering me. Caramel gasps sharply, nearly jumping out of his skin, as I slide over and put a hand on his shoulder. I ask him why he didn't just say something sooner. "Well, I saw you with Starlight and you mentioned a zebra back in your other town so I was certain you weren't into stallions."
Caramel has claimed down significantly by now, so I tell him to ask me what he really means. "Would you mind being more than friends?" I brush even this away by saying that depends on how much more. We've both put it out in the open, he doesn't need to be delicate or evasive with the question. What actually comes does genuinely surprise me.
"Would you want to be sex friends?"
This was all that he wanted, a body to admire. It's a very pleasant surprise for me because this way I don't have to break him when eventually do leave town. I do bring this up anyway, that as a wrestler I will have to leave and work somewhere else, not knowing when I'll come back. He says that it's fine by him, so I accept his offer.
Caramel now looks around the room a bit and weakly asks "So, when would you want to start?" It's been so long, so I turn off the TV and ask him how about now? He only nods, his cheeks burning a bright red and slides over to me. I was legitimately starting to think that my hands would be the only action I'd get out here, but now I have someone who only lives a few blocks away! This territory isn't so bad after all.
He sits on my lap and faces me, reaching for my shirt at first but stops. "May I undress you?" So polite, this means that I'm dominant again, I should probably get used to it with anyone but Zecora. I nod and help him by taking my shirt off with my own hands. His palms slide over my chest as he reaches for my pants but I stop him. I want him to undress first.
He hesitates, then slides back and lifts his shirt off and leans back in, but that's not enough. He only looks down, but slowly undoes the button on his pants and slides them off too. He wasn't wearing anything under, so now he's completely bare before me, his stallionhood already quite aroused. Now I let him, and he delicately opens my pants and slides them off, my underwear following right after.
As my erection is freed and slaps onto my stomach, he takes a bit of a gasp. He knew I had to be big, but no this much so. I of course remind him that he's no slouch either on size. He starts to lean in, bringing his muzzle close to mine but stops himself again. Before he can even get the question out, I tell him to go ahead and do it. With another submissive nod, he leans in and presses his mouth onto mine, a hot kiss which he gives a surprising bit of tongue to.
His leaning in presses our lengths together and I feel him shiver as they do. Wanting to tease him, I buck my hips slightly, making him jump suddenly and moan louder than he likely intended. As he pulls off from the kiss, I start to push his head down. Getting the idea, he slides back down my body, kneeling before me as he takes hold. His mouth opens and his tongue brushes along the underside of my cock, his heat now making me twitch.
Sensing he's already doing a good job he brushes his tongue over the length once more, but this time flicking it around the tip. Not one to leave well enough alone, he then pulls it towards him and slides his mouth down the length, making me gasp now. As he takes more of me into his mouth, his hands slide down the base and take hold of my balls. With his expert treatment, I have no problems reaching full arousal.
I shudder to say but as his head slides down and then back up my cock rhythmically, he looks almost cute as his eyes lock onto mine. Now he knows he has me under his spell, his head bobbing faster with a hand again at the base until he just stops. His mouth comes off with a pop, instead sliding down further to run his tongue over my balls while his hands squeeze and slide along my cock.
I try to compliment him on it but I'm so lost in pleasure that all I manage is a lewd grunt. He only giggles, getting a devilish idea as he sucks his finger and brushes it along my hole, the sensation making me nearly jump. Despite the shock, I still stay there, powerless in his grasp. I think this is what they mean when they say that the sub is often in control. I see his grin widen for an instant.
He gives my tip another lick as I feel his finger ease in. It's been so long since I've felt the sensation, it almost feeling foreign. He pushes his finger all the way in perfectly timed with his mouth taking me in further. He seems to be trying to get me to burst already, but I won't until I've had my fun. After fingering me for a moment he looks back up at me and I tell him it's my turn to enjoy him.
He looks around, but I'm always prepared, producing him with a rubber and lube. He slides the former onto me, then uses the latter to ready himself, asking how I want him, while he takes a position on his hands and knees. If he was wanting to guide me that way, he'll have to try harder next time, because I push him over onto his back to face me, brushing my wrapped up cock over his bare one while he gets it slick. I want him to know what he's gotten himself into.
His eyes go between my cock and me and he guides my length to his hole, as my left hand pushes onto his chest and my right on top of his head. He prods himself with my tip but I take control, easing the head in and causing him to gasp with a faint moan. Taking the opportunity, I pull his head up as I lean mine down, our mouths coming together again. I note that he really likes his tongue play as I feel his snaking around in my mouth again.
Holding the kiss I pop the tip in and out to tease him before pushing and slowly sliding in to the medial ring. My left hand has instinctively slid down his chest and taken hold of his erection, my filling him making it shiver wildly. As I start to fuck him, I stroke my hand along his cock in time with my hips. When our kiss breaks, he gives a lick of my muzzle.
I'm not sure why, but I never seem to last as long with other stallions as I do with mares. Maybe it's that I just don't do it that often, or that mares more often want to be in control, but I feel myself pushing the edge soon and it forces me to slow down. His rear legs wrap around me as he gets out his first coherent words in a while with a heavy whisper of “Fuck me...”
I fulfill his desire, pushing from tip to ring much quicker than before. When I hit the ring, I feel him try to push back, like he's trying to take all of me. I can't have that, there needs to be something to look forward to in later encounters. To prevent that, I stop short and let his hips force him the rest of the way to my ring with my inward thrusts. I see that needy look in his eyes, begging me to let him have all of me, but I remain strict about not going all the way.
A moment later I see in his eyes that he's given up on it. I figure I can at least throw him a bone, stopping one last time at the medial ring and whispering into his ear that I'm going to finish on his face. My words light up his eyes again, him nodding in lewd excitement. I push up to halfway one last time before pulling out and sliding the condom off.
With my cock over his head, he takes hold and sits up as he strokes quickly and firmly, giving a lick to the tip every so often to try and finish me. His work is rewarded as I feel myself well up again, this time not holding back as I shoot my seed, several hot bursts onto his exposed face and into his open mouth. Of course he swallows it, I knew I'd found a good one.
As I slump onto the couch beside him, he then looks down at his own aching cock, then back up at me. I agree to help him finish, but no oral. He nods and sits in my lap, my still hard cock sliding between his ass and over his hole. He starts to stroke himself quickly. I lend my hands, stroking quickly and firmly myself while also using his current position to lick and nibble along his neck. He doesn't take long, quickly finishing on his chest and stomach with a few strands cumming with enough power to hit his chin and lips.
He sighs one last heavy sigh, leaning back into me as he's fully spent. He's gotten more out of me for a first fuck than almost everyone else has, and I let him know. He thanks me and asks when we might do it all again. I don't say when, because I prefer things to be spontaneous, but also my busy life means that I can't know for sure. I also tell him this as well, and then we get cleaned up.
He was polite enough to want to shower separately, which I accommodated. With the both of us clean (or as clean as you can get after a dirty fuck) and dressed, he kisses my cheek and leaves, saying that he'll see me again soon enough. I look forward to it, go to my fridge for a beer and then call it a day. Work starts up again tomorrow, and I want to pick up right where I left off.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 11: If You Can't Stand The Heat...
Entry 11
I haven't written in weeks because I've been busy and just repetition. There isn’t much interesting to talk about, and that’s the one thing I hate about working here. I would try to go to the dancing bars for practice on off nights, but all the dancing bars only play that horrendous “country” music. That and I’m heel, so there’s no guarantee I won’t end up getting stabbed a dozen times.
Between all the country music BS, the no nightlife, and fans trying to literally kill me at every turn, I feel that this territory has lost its charm. I don’t say it because I don’t want to upset Quake who runs a very good show night after night, as evidenced by how he fills every show to near capacity every night. Though I’m not saying it, many of the wrestlers can see that the doldrums is wearing on me and have said as much.
North Star and his family have started their racing venture, which I found by surprise when I saw his daughter’s name in a racing entrant list in the local newspaper. Since there really is nothing to do when Sister is busy and there’s no show to work, I decided to go watch Melody race. I was reminded that I really should watch more racing, despite not knowing much of the finer details I was captivated. I suppose my excitement was also a result of Melody running near the front the whole time.
She managed to win the race, her first win in shifter karts. As a way of congratulating her, I offered to get her lunch wherever she wanted. We had to take it back to home base though because I’m still heel. Melody obviously asked when I was going to be the good guy for a change, sometimes I wonder that myself. While I do have a lot of fun getting others angry being a villain and I’m very good at it, I feel sometimes that it’s taking years off of my career.
Of course I end up spending the most time talking with Little Dipper, and he explained the more complex details of what goes into making a kart fast. Though I didn’t understand most of it, because science was never my strongest suit, I was still enamored as he broke it all down. Though he said he’s only in it for science, I feel like he really enjoys racing for the sport, especially in the adversarial way he described his opponents.
Eventually they persuaded me to move the table and do some shoot wrestling with North. It’s easy to see even through his rust that he could have probably been a champion had he stayed in school. Early through our session I began to wish I could have him as a sparring partner, since he’s not afraid to hurt me. I run into this problem a lot with wrestling sparring partners a lot, many think that because I’m big that means I’m also fragile. Many take it too easy on me and it makes me concerned that I’m not getting the kind of workout that I desire.
The time flew between wrestling with North and talking with the family, and I made them dinner as well. Wine insisted on helping since she felt that she hadn’t done anything all day. I decided to pass on a traditional dinner, instead going with a lasagna. At dinner I talked about my time in this territory. This was where it became apparent that I wasn’t enjoying it all. While I enjoy being around Sister and the tight work, the boredom and downtime is clearly eating away at me. Shortly after dinner, the kids began to get tired so North and Wine left, telling me to not be such a stranger.
About an hour after they leave, Caramel shows up. He goes for small talk, myself not really feeling much for it. He then prods me by saying that even though we may be “friends with benefits” (as it’s called) we’re still friends. I relent and decide to open up about my dislike of the area, just how boring it all is with no nightlife to speak of unless you’re a cowboy wannabe, and even then the options are so few. I really don’t want to say it all around him because he’s native to the area and I’m afraid to offend him with my disdain for his “kind.”
Surprisingly he’s understanding, saying that the lack of things to do in downtime really eats away at him, which his why he has so many friends “like me.” He also dislikes all the wannabe “cowboy” types himself, though not as much as me, and also shares my outright disgust for how anti-gay and otherwise stuck in the past and uptight everyone here is socially. At least all the wrestlers here are fairly tolerant.
I keep going back to it, but I feel I can’t stress enough just how much the boredom is wearing on me. I relate to Caramel how I snapped and let everything boil over the other day. I had walked Sister back to her house, where Rusty was waiting for us. Them being lovers, they greet with a kiss, but apparently that’s “wrong” around here because some ass yells “Get a room, fucking dykes.”
Normally I let this go because Sister is a strong mare and I know she’s more than capable of handling herself, but something just came over me. Maybe it was all my frustration with this place, his stupid cowboy hat, or that you do not say certain things about Sister around me, but I lost it. I walked right over, swatted the hat off his head and threw him by his hair into the street. As he got up I delivered a running kick to his ribs, leaving him grabbing himself.
I then pulled him up by his hair and said I didn’t hear him the first time. Like a typical coward he screams that he was sorry. I told him he was damn right he was and dropped him flat on his face as his nose began to bloody. Seeing that Sister and Rusty were both aghast at the display, I apologized weakly and left without a further word. When I saw sister again today she tried to console me saying that he was constantly giving them shit and she’s quite honestly glad someone finally put him in his place.
As expected, Caramel is quite uneasy hearing the story but he has his arms around me saying that I should ask Quake for my release. While Caramel would hate to see me go, he says he’d hate even worse for me to end up in these medieval prisons out here because my patience ran out. I’m not so quick to agree because in-ring right here is probably the happiest I’ve been. He then asks me when was the last time I was a good guy. I don’t think I ever have been since my debut.
We then talk about me turning babyface. I say it’s not that simple, I can’t just all of a sudden lose all the heat I’ve built up, it wouldn’t make sense. He says why not at least try, at least I can work towards it. I then mention that means staying here, and this place is already wearing me down, and then awkward silence. After it lingers over us for what feels like several minutes, I eventually say that perhaps he was right in the first place. I need to go work somewhere else.
We finally come to agreement that I’ll be going somewhere else, and that Quake needs to shop me to a few promotions. I thank him for his help, which true to his form he says he didn’t help with anything. With another hug I lay back on the couch and let him choose what we’ll watch. He puts on a trivia game show, following along with it himself and knowing most of the answers. I suggest he try out for one, but he brushes it off saying that it’s much different on the set and that he gets stage fright.
After his game shows end I figure he’s going to leave for the night and start to sit up, but all of a sudden he’s in my lap. How did I forget this was coming? He starts to slide his hand into my waist, taking hold of my cock. I grin and say that I had something just a little different in mind tonight. Now it’s his turn to be surprised he looks at me to show him what I mean.
I slowly push him over onto his back, sliding his shorts off. With no underwear, he was definitely coming to me for a fuck. I slide my hands up his chest, removing his shirt, then lick down his body, kissing the tip of his cock and causing him to nearly jump in surprise. Lifting it up with one hand I open and take him all the way into my mouth.
I feel him get fully hard almost instantly, I guess he doesn’t receive much. I squeeze my tongue around his shaft as best I can manage, being quite out of practice on giving a blowjob. My large head (and mouth) means I have no problem treating his entire size, using one hand to caress his balls and another to try spread his legs for me. His hands first go to the top of my head, but slide clumsily down to my cheeks as I give a firm suck to make him squirm.
My eyes drift up his form, meeting his. He’s biting his lip and looking like he’s trying to hold back cumming already. I pop off, saying that he doesn’t need to hold back because I’m still going to get mine. My mouth returns to treating his length, but I also decide to cheat by sliding a finger into his hole. With a jump and squeak, I feel him already right on the brink. I decide to push myself all the way down and slide my tongue out to lick his sack. I’ve wanted to try doing this for years.
It’s apparently a hit because I feel him give way to his orgasm, cumming quite heavily into my mouth and down my throat. I forget how lewd and gratifying it is to feel another guy burst in my mouth. Despite it being quite a large load, he definitely hasn’t received in some time, I swallow it all, giving him a kiss right after where he surprisingly tries to lick up as much of his cream as he can.
Breaking the kiss, I tell him it’s his turn and lay back. He slides my shorts off and skips oral, kneeling over and taking the tip into his rear. He slides down to just the ring as usual and bounces to tease himself with it. I decide I’ll let him control pace for tonight, my hands resting along his sides.
He gets quicker as I start to get close, still not lasting as long with guys as I do with ladies. He then leans in and whispers, his voice dripping of lust “B-breed me… I want to feel you nut deep inside my ass.” I nod as I kiss his muzzle, pulling down on his hips. He gets even quicker as we both feel me on the brink, then I grip him firmly and hold him down, cumming deep inside his ass. He moans just as loud as before, a few small strands of his own cum leaking onto my stomach.
He slowly lifts off as I run a finger through his small deposit, licking it and then giving him a taste. As he slumps back on the couch, I sit up and do a little clean up. He looks like he wants to ask something, but feeling like I have a good idea what he wants to say, I ask if he would like to bathe with me. Curling his lips shyly, he nods and we have a bath.
Not much is said in the bath, him mostly just leaning back into me and enjoying the moment. With the both of us cleaned up and him dressed again, he leaves for the night. Having felt like I had a fairly decent day, I retire for the night.
The next day, I call Quake over and tell him everything that’s been going on. He’s very understanding, and says this territory isn’t for everyone. This means that his plans for giving me the regional championship are nixed, but he’s plenty gracious enough to shop me around to a few other promotions. Quake is even cool enough to keep between us why he’s doing this.
Sister was out managing a march so no dancing again today. I don’t mind too much because it’s a show day. Light workout, nap, wake up and get dressed. Quake arrives right on time and I’m waiting for him. With this ride being just us he says that already there’s a few promotions interested and runs them down. One is the Manehattan territory, but they want me in just a special attraction. The other to respond so quickly is Crystal Empire, and they want me as a babyface to work their program with the world champion.
Now obviously anyone would jump at the chance to work with the top wrestler, but I have to think about it. I would have literally the whole wrestling world watching me as well as I’d be working face for the first time ever. While working with the world champ doesn’t come often, it’s still a very tall order. The Manehattan shows aren’t a very enticing offer either, because they want me to work a largely immobile role, and I joke that I’d feel my body begin to atrophy after just one show. Quake laughs along and says he’ll wait to see if a few more offers come in.
We get to the show, usual routine of into the heel dressing room, stick to crosswords and watching everyone until my match comes up. I have the match and nothing out of the ordinary happens, cleanly beating a vastly improved Thunderbolt in a 15 minute match. The fans are more tame here, simply sticking to just throwing jeers and curses at me rather than objects. Back to the dressing room, undress, shower, wait for police escort after show. I give a breakdown to Quake on how Thunder’s improved and where he still needs some more work. He drops me off at home base and I tell him to find out more on the particulars of those two deals he already got for me.
With nothing much to do, I turn in for the night. Hopefully I can get out of this place sooner rather than later. I just need more things to do than loaf around the house and write. The repetition here is even hurting my ability to do these, since I’d mostly just be repeating myself.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 12: ...Get Out Of The Kitchen
Entry 12
More offers came in on where to work, including the Cloudsdale and Vanhoover territories. I’ve made my decision, though, with help from everyone else. I’m going to work the Crystal Empire promotion, Great North Championship Wrestling. Quake put it best, opportunity only knocks once and everyone in any locker room would kill to work with the world champion. The promoter for the north, Iron Maiden, sent over some more info and the pay looks massively better than anywhere I’ve worked.
So everything is set for me to leave, and as business goes I’ll have to put over Slapjack clean. It’s going to be a Loser Leaves Town match, and we’re going on last since the feud is still red hot. I spend my days working on packing up into a transport container for the move, as well as getting a place set up in the Crystal Empire. Promoters everywhere have connections because Iron gets me hooked up with a penthouse suite apartment a few blocks from the palace, about the same arrangement I had in Canterlot.
The last two weeks fly by as I manage to keep busy with moving arrangements and Sister’s dance lessons. The guy who I beat for insulting Sister and Rusty came by one day to apologize. I was suspicious of him, I’m sure Sister was as well, but Rusty was accepting. He kept his distance from me as he did. After he left, Rusty told me I should have apologized for clobbering him. She says that hurting someone is no way to get acceptance. She’s right, I really should know better.
Right then Sister walked me inside with them, put Rusty’s hand in mine and I can tell this is a final test. She puts on a song she’d always skipped over during our lessons and says to dance with Rusty. She can see that I’m caught off guard and frozen in place and then it starts again, she’s yelling at me, deriding my lack of confidence in my abilities. I don’t know why this happens to me, but this time her yelling does not help and my mind stays blank. After a moment, she shuts it down and I can see she’s not happy with me.
Rusty is bewildered by everything as Sister walks away in a huff. She asks me what that was all about, and I tell her that it was about her dance lessons. It was supposed to be a final exam and I failed because I went blank. I was trying to think how to start and ended up doing nothing because I just simply froze up. She only smiles, hugs me and says that dancing probably just isn’t my thing.
I share my concern with her, that I’ve wasted Sister’s time in trying to learn. Rusty says that I haven’t wasted anyone’s time because I still tried and that’s the important thing. I guess I’m just so used to success that I forget the important things. I’d have never known for certain if it was something I could do until I tried it. I tell her that I’m worried because I was hoping to learn for a lady, but Rusty says that as long as she knows I’m trying it won’t be any issue. I wish I could share her confidence in me.
Before I leave Sister comes back and apologizes for putting me on the spot. I tell her it’s no big deal because I know she only wants me to do well for her. Before we part, I leave them two tickets to tomorrow night’s show, my finale. At the very least, they’ll both be able to see what I’m truly my best at. We say our goodbyes and with one last hug, Sister wishes me well and says to not do anything reckless.
Caramel is waiting at the house for me when I return. I let him in and tell him everything about my moving and where I’ll be going. He seems mostly happy but at the same time sad that I’ll be leaving and especially so soon. Although it was mostly his idea that I leave for my own happiness and sanity, it’s still quite hard on him for me to just up and move so suddenly. We both know he’ll be alright, so I don’t say it, and we spend the rest of the evening just watching TV, no sex this time.
Apparently we lost track of time because we both fell asleep and awake the next day with him on top of me. Quake is standing at the end of the couch with a huge smirk and says “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Caramel awakens and his face turns bright red, I guess I forgot that Quake wanted to get a workout in with me before I left. Quake gives us a few minutes as Caramel gets dressed again and we say our goodbyes, with him also telling me to not get into trouble and that he hopes to see me again sooner rather than later.
With Caramel leaving, Quake and I go to the gym. I underestimated his athletic abilities because he manages to keep with me through everything. The two mile warm up run didn’t faze him, he hardly broke a sweat during weights, and he appeared as fresh as ever during cool down. He says he wishes he could have a partner like me every day, and that if he’d had one all along he might still be in working shape. I feel like that’s probably the highest praise I’ve received yet.
Quake didn’t spend the day just to get a workout with me, he wanted to give me a little report on the world champion and my next partner, Headcrusher. Crush, as he apparently goes by, is a big guy like myself but I’m a little bigger. Not only is he world champion, he’s also the heel so he will be the one to call the matches unless he asks me to. He can work any style, he has to be versatile like that to be on top, but his preferred style is deliberate mat-based work into brawling.
We spend all afternoon talking about Crush until the time comes to head to the Appleoosa auditorium for my last show. We get a couple blocks away and are led in by police convoy. In the dressing room, instead of the usual fare of video games and cards, most everyone is saying goodbye and wishing me well. I imagine it’s hard to to be upset with someone leaving when you know they’re going to have what could be the biggest moment of their career.
The place is packed to legal capacity, and they have a great show for them tonight. Everyone seems to step up their game for tonight, each match performing better than the last. Tonight I sit at gorilla position and watch matches instead of in a corner with my thoughts. Even Thunderbolt, usually a very unpolished worker looks like a seasoned pro in the ring. After his match he thanks me for everything even though we’d butted heads a few times and that the next time he sees me he hopes we can do main event work. Quake is sure to bust his chops by saying that he’s got a long way to go before he can even think about that.
As the night nears its end, the regional title match goes out. Before the both of them do, Quake is sure to remind them absolutely no color. The only bleeding tonight will be our match. They put out a good half hour fight before they time out, so that feud will keep going for a while. The match before mine is the battle royale. I think of some high spots for my match with Slapjack. Quake sees that I’m nervous, he tells me not to worry because my heat alone can carry the match. It’s no help, because my mind keeps wanting to ponder my match.
With the battle royale finished, the crowd starts to buzz. This is it, this is what I’ve been building towards the past two months. Slap gives me the nod before heading out to a thunderous ovation. Quake gives me the knowing smile as I stand up and walk slowly to the curtain. Their jeers are just as loud as I take my slow walk to the ring. Our eyes don’t leave each other even for an instant.
The crowd wants blood and is in a frenzy as we stare each other down. They just get louder as we stand there, chest to chest without a word. Without even a wind up, I whip my hand over and deliver a slap to his face, and it’s a good one that echoes throughout. Though it’s no disqualification, I don’t go for the dirty tricks yet. He answers back with a slap of his own, followed by me getting a punch on him a bit harder than I intended to.
I continue to deck him for the next few minutes and am merciless with my assault. He teases a comeback but I stop him dead in his tracks with a solid boot. I use a variety of holds to make him yell and writhe in pain. He gets his chance when I throw him to the outside and decide to bring some gimmicks in. The throw allows him to get a chair and crack me in the head with it. He works me over with the chair, the crowd getting louder with each hit.
I see the look in his eyes and the wink, and we know it’s time. He backs up to run at me with the chair, but I get my leg up and it blasts him in the head. When he drops to the ground, I take a moment to regroup, grab him and drill his head into a nearby ring post. I grab a wooden chair from under the ring and shatter it over his head. Grabbing a broken piece, I pull him up by his hair, show his head and gouge him with the piece to make him bleed.
With him writhing, I waste no time pulling him back up by his hair and drilling his head into the steps before I toss him back in the ring. Holding the metal chair I wait for him to stand up, then deck him with the chair. He gets up again only for me to whack him once more. He lays on the ground as I beckon him up again and when he gets to his knees, I plow him once more.
I carelessly leave the chair by him as I size him up for a spear. He sits up once more on his knees and I come running along but he gets the chair up, turning the tables once more. The crowd erupts as now I’m going to get my share. He shakes off the cobwebs and waves the chair around to get the crowd into a frenzy as I undo the tape and make a quick swipe on my forehead. I see the red drip down my muzzle and onto the mat. Sliding the edge back in my tape, I stand up with my hair over my face, whipping it out as he takes the chair to my head.
The crowd only gets louder as they see me bleed. He pulls me up and throws me to a corner, and I make sure to go head first into the post, just crumpling down to the mat. I see through my hair he’s ready to bring it in for the grand finale. As he starts to pick me up, I slam his head into the corner and climb to the top. With a jump I go for the diving headbutt, but he pulls the chair onto himself and I take it like a champ. With no time to spare, he sets the chair in the middle, pulls me over and I go vertical for his piledriver onto the chair as he pins me.
One…
Two…
…
Three!
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 13: Long Train Ride
Entry 13
I did the J.O.B. clean, right in the middle, but I suppose that wasn’t enough for the fans because after he’d left the ring and I laid there to sell his piledriver, they kept throwing garbage at me. It’s quite incredible when you get so much heat that it’s not enough for you to lose convincingly to the other guy. Regardless, my business is concluded and now I’m on a train to the Crystal Empire. I saw a princess get on the train at the brief Ponyville stop, perhaps I should have struck conversation with her.
The train ride will take about three days, since I’m going from pretty far south to near the furthest north reaches of the nation. The ride tends to be very scenic, and because it’s a direct line I don’t even need to get dressed except to get food. We stop at the station outside of Vanhoover in the evening and I decide to help myself to their soup and salad.
On the way back to my cabin on the train, I glance to the side and notice that another door is open just a hair. As I looked over, through the crack I managed to get a view that I’m sure many stallions would give anything to see. I saw Princess Twilight herself, completely naked and likely getting dressed. Though it was only for a few seconds at most, it felt like I was standing there for minutes. Without a word I return to my cabin.
The food was what I expected from such cheap fast food, the soup tasted canned and the salad dressing was clearly some store brand. I guess for only a few bits one can’t be too picky. I lay back as the train pulls away and begins the long stretch to its destination. It’s mostly tundra and it’s night so there’s really nothing to see, as such I keep the shade closed on the window.
As I lay on the pull out bed with my thoughts, something strange comes over me. Maybe it’s just that I’ve always had a special place for our royalty and their beauty, but my mind keeps going back to seeing Her Highness completely bare before me. And of course, my imagination can’t simply leave well enough alone so it starts to conjure images of Her Highness and Princess Celestia.
The more I try to block it out, the more lewd my thoughts get. I hate when this happens. At first the fantasy starts with the both of them sharing a passionate kiss, then a glance at me, then they remove each other’s shirt. Celestia’s breasts would be larger, of course. They then crawl up my legs, hands running along my stomach and rub their cheeks against my shorts.
I snap back to reality and sure enough, my length is poking through my shorts and is rock hard. I’m not sure what else to do, so I slide my shorts off. My imagination won’t give me a break so it continues its fantasy, with both princesses running their hands over my cock. Twilight’s hands caress my balls and inner thigh as Celestia licks along the side. She pulls Twilight’s head down and the both of them share a kiss and then lick up the sides.
Back in reality I’ve already taken hold of myself with both hands, running slowly along my cock. While Twilight’s mouth runs up and down my length, Celestia slides back down and begins to fondle the other princess. Celestia’s treatment of Twilight causes her to moan, and she buries her face in the other’s slit while Twilight continues to treat me. Almost as suddenly as she started, Celestia stops treating the other and crawls onto me. Her tongue is red hot as she drags it over my muzzle.
Wasting no time, Twilight holds me upright as Celestia slides down my cock with a long, low moan. Twilight spreads the other princess’ rear and I feel her give Celestia a lick up my balls and her ass. The larger princess leans her head back with a moan much louder than before as she slowly rides me with Twilight doing her best to rim her. My hands cup her large breasts and Celestia leans down to steal another kiss with me, moaning passionately into my mouth.
In no time I feel myself ready to burst. Celestia also feels it as well because she gazes deeply into my eyes and whispers “Fill me, Steel… I want every drop deep inside me.” I only nod, panting too heavily to say anything. The older princess pushes herself down on me and hilts one last time as I let go. Her eyes don’t leave mine and I see her agape expression quickly curl into a smile as I cum. “Yes… That’s it… So warm and filling…”
Celestia crawls off of me and onto her back, Twilight then pressing her mouth onto Celestia’s slit to get a taste of me for herself. I then snap back into reality to find that I certainly did cum, but obviously doing so made a mess of myself. There appears to be quite a bit more than I’m used to, but maybe that’s because I haven’t gotten myself off in quite a while.
As I get myself cleaned up, I feel a bit of regret. I don’t know why, no one stumbled upon me (at least that I know of), all the windows were closed and my door locked, and it’s a natural thing to play with yourself. Is it because I peeked and saw Her Highness naked, that I fantasized of having both her and her teacher? That I would even think of Her Majesty, Princess Celestia, in such a way in the first place?
After I clean myself off, I put on a shirt and shorts and take a short walk through the train. Finding a service cart, I decide to stop and get myself a drink. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a vodka and tonic. I made sure to give the attendant a large tip to ensure I get a generous bit of hooch in it. Outside through the window I only see a dark, barren landscape.
I make quick work of the drink and get myself another, this time with an even higher booze content. I return to my cabin and lay down once more, then the buzz hits me. I drink down the rest of the cup in one quick swoop and stretch out as the alcohol takes hold. It’s definitely been a long time since I last drank because I rarely ever get buzzed this easy. I cut the lights out and open the window, actually seeing the northern lights.
Late in the next afternoon I arrive at the Crystal Empire. An old, grizzled lady with silver hair is waiting with a sign that bears my name. I walk over and she smiles professionally. “Steel, yes? I’m Iron Maiden, just call me Iron.” I nod and offer a hand, her shake being much more firm than most stallions I’ve met. “You’ve made a fine decision coming here that I’m sure you won’t regret.”
I now remember hearing of her, Iron was by far the toughest and most legendary mare to ever climb inside the ropes. These days mare wrestling has largely become a sideshow that seeks to only fuel sexual fantasies of adolescent colts, but in her heyday Iron was the undisputed queen of the ring. Aside from her accolades as an active wrestler, she also trains salty, tough as nails mares to be savages in the ring. Stallions who trained with her have said that her slaps hurt more than most other stallions’ punches.
She may well still be an active wrestler had she not been knocked up. She passed it off as she had developed cancer and shocked the world with a surprise retirement, even going so far as to have her head shaved in secret and losing 30 pounds all to sell the angle. Iron returned to wrestling once her son had gone to university, buying out the Crystal Empire territory. Her reputation as booker is that she’s fair but is merciless to those not respectful of the sport.
On the way to my apartment she tells me about Headcrusher, the world’s heavyweight champion and my upcoming partner. Most of it is what Quake told me before I left, but she emphasizes that he works very stiff and will throw lots of potatoes, and I shouldn’t take it personally. I joke that as long as he doesn’t try to kill me, I’ll be fine.
Iron shows concern that I haven’t worked as babyface before in my life, but she says it ultimately won’t be a problem as Headcrusher could turn even Sombra himself babyface. We arrive at the high rise and she tells me my first assignment is promos tomorrow morning at the TV studio. I ask about in ring work and she only chuckles with a response of “One step at a time, Steel.”
It’s a long elevator ride to the top, but when I get into the apartment, the shades are all open to allow the natural light of the sunset in, and the patio has a clear view to the north for some spectacular looks at the northern lights. The room is also fully and lavishly furnished, a king sized bed with satin sheets, a genuine suede sofa, and a full size kitchen among other luxuries.
I decide to go down to the building’s basement gym and get a long cardio workout in, then a bath before bed. The town actually appears to have a nightlife so I hopefully shouldn’t lose my mind up here. I go to sleep excited for my prospects in this city.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 14: Strange New World
Entry 14
I have to draw the curtains before bed at night. Apparently being this far north means that the sun sometimes doesn’t set for days at a time. It’s actually quite peculiar and fun to go for a midnight run under full daylight. I’ve also joined Iron at the gym a few times. Although she’s nearly triple my age, she’s still a monster. She’s the only non-talent I’ve worked out with who has kept up with me without me having to sandbag.
My first week consists of just workouts and promos, the latter of which is obviously a much different tone than I’ve had to take yet. My first few ones I fried my brain trying to think of things to say before Iron cut me off, telling me that I won’t last long at all at that pace. I need to not be afraid of cliches and “cheap pops.” Yes they can be stupid, but that’s why you don’t rely exclusively on them. Mix them in with the unique material.
Because TV is still a few days away, my first match is a 30 minute draw with another hot shot, Flash Sentry. He got a little stiff, but one hard forearm blast to his face got him to calm down a bit. He apologized for wrenching too much after, and I apologized for the blow. The crowd looked rather small, the bottom level at I’d guess 80% capacity and the upper level was maybe around half full. Quite odd, especially compared to the large crowds I’m used to.
That isn’t to say the atmosphere was dull, the ones who showed up were deeply invested in the action. Asking around, most dodged the question but Iron was fearless. She says, of course with no one else around, it’s because things have become stale. Business was down, so Head came to the territory. He revitalized it for a while, but being champion meant he couldn’t lose. As a result he’s beaten almost anyone who can credibly challenge him.
This conversation was over drinks, Iron seems to like me. She says it’s because lately her territory has come to be known as where careers go to die. Not only was I the only outside talent to come, I was the only one who wanted to overwhelmingly come in. Iron’s also very impressed that I’m willing to go into such a high pressure situation, but also to do so in an unfamiliar role, and with the single largest player in the business.
It’s not withering up here because Head wants it to, far from it. The issue he has now that hasn’t been in the past is that he’s the world champion, so he cannot lose the title, even if for a week. A world champion does not have to honor a loss in a title match that was not approved by the Conclave, and a promoter can face severe reprisal for even asking him to do so. It all goes back to not making the belt holder look like a chump.
The bar closes for the evening, Iron refuses to let me pay. I get back to my room and as I start to get comfortable, reception calls. Headcrusher wants to meet, so I ask him to come to my room. His handshake is not unlike a vicegrip as he walks in. Head congratulates me on a good first match, wearing what has to be a 10 grand suit.
Sure enough, he is about my size in build, though I am notably taller than him. I keep quiet and listen as he talks, mostly about how he hopes that I live up to what he’s heard of me, and about Papa. Head has been wrestling for 15 years, and has worked a few programs with Papa, and starts to compare myself and Papa. I say that with all due respect, I’m not my father, and that many have said I’m better.
Of course this gets an odd look, so I shrug and say that it’s what others say and that I’m only better on the amateur side. He seems a bit unconvinced in this regard too, so I decide to go over my accomplishments. Six consecutive national championships and seven in eight years, two gold medals in freestyle at the equestrian games, and my final year of university I did not surrender a point in the national tournament.
I do not tell him my greatest accomplishment, I don’t tell anyone that. Head even seems quite impressed with my resume, and with a handshake he leaves, saying to remember that pro is different from amateur and that he’ll be seeing me soon. He leaves and it’s just me, the sun deciding to set tonight and giving way to the Northern Lights. Since I have the rest of the week off, I get myself a drink and go outside to watch.
I don’t tell anyone my greatest accomplishment because no one would believe it, also that I’m honestly not too proud of it. It’s one thing that I’ve kept even from Zecora. Sister knows, Papa was there, as was Gryphus, and a few members of Papa’s class. I told the police in a statement, but that was the only time. Also because it scares me and is painful to relive.
A pony who claims to have wrestled with a dragon will be treated with derision. It’s almost certainly a lie, and on the off chance that it’s not a lie it was either a juvenile dragon or one so old as to not put up hardly any fight. Those are just the ones who live to tell about it, almost all ponies who have picked a fight with a dragon that wasn’t juvenile or elderly were killed.
He was an insubordinate student at Papa's wrestling school. A former warrior for one of the more infamous eastern clans, and I just a 16 year old amateur wrestling stand-out. He was the only student Papa admitted who was bigger than even him. He was also by far the most toxic personality that Papa had seen in his 40 years of wrestling. The dragon was a shunned, vilified former warrior of his clan. He was also a heavy steroid user, which everyone knew had only made him even more insufferable.
He ran his mouth all the time, and eventually refused to take orders from us 'inferior' ponies. When Pa expelled him, he threatened all of us. He tried to attack Papa, but it took the entire class, Gryphus included, holding him back to get him to submit. Right before leaving he looked right at me and said that Sister would be his concubine. There are certain things one does not say about my family, and especially not to my face.
I stood my ground defiantly in front of him. When he reached out to scratch me, I threw him head first into the door, then to the ground. According to Papa, Gryphus tried to break us up, but Pa held him back for his own safety. I cannot remember any of it, only the small bit that Papa has said of it, except for the aftermath. I was told the fight lasted for 11 minutes and that the doctors said that I should have died, if not for what wounds I had then from the blood loss.
When the fight ended, I needed 32 staples, 144 stitches, an operation to reattach the muscles in my left arm that he had bitten clean off the bone, and the police had to forcibly pull his claws out of my body from him trying to gore me. When I stood up for the first time in the hospital I had noticed a mark adorning my body, a set of shackles.
It’s known to all ponies that we all have a special talent, one that we do better than anything else. I found out that day, as represented by the mark I’ve worn above my leg since the fight, that my talent is submission holds. Mine are inescapable if I clamp down, and you will either ask mercy or black out in a futile attempt to get free. The dragon is now nearly mute and rotting in some Gulag back home, never to walk free for the rest of his life.
I had thoroughly humiliated him, not once but twice. First by making him do the most disgraceful thing a dragon warrior could ever do, one thing that a warrior would die before doing, I made him beg me for mercy. After he had, I wrenched my chokehold deeper and made him black out which had also crushed his vocal cords in the process. As the cherry on top, he was sentenced to a lifetime prison term with no parole in a maximum security environment.
I do not tell this story because no one would believe me even with the scars I still bear from the encounter, and that by all accounts I should have died. Many times I awake wondering how I lived. I still have nightmares of the fight, even though I have no distinct memory of any of it. Many nights I awake from nightmares where the fight is occurring, and sometimes even nightmares where he is just about to kill me.
Sometimes I wonder why I bring so much trouble upon myself being so zealously defensive of Sister, especially when I know that she really doesn’t need or want me to be. My fear is that one day I will go too far, reacting to nothing, and she will disown me. All my sorrow, fears, and doubts about my stay here are a large contrast to the breathtaking spectacle of the Northern Lights.
I glance inside at a clock and find out that I’ve been sitting out here for three hours now. I don’t think the temperature has changed at all since I’ve arrived, being almost the same during the day and the night. The still night air helps lose track of the time, since I don’t feel the normal cold late night winds that usually roll through. I could fall asleep watching the sky, but elect to go to bed anyways. I only hope that I can have a pleasant dream to contrast the terrible flashback that I suffered.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 15: Old Dogs and New Tricks
Entry 15
Working as a face has been without a doubt my biggest challenge in this sport, and I’m only a month in. The psychology is so much different, so is my normal pace. I also have to hold back on my impulses because I’m trying to be the opposite of who I was for the past three years.
The venue is interesting. It looks like an old, old auditorium on the outside but is anything but on the inside, having modern amenities that are on par with Canterlot. Iron Maiden says this was done largely at her own expense, but feels it pays for itself. It also has an exclusive royal box, where Princess Cadence and Shining Armor will attend at least once a month.
Work out here is a small territory, shows are every week, and most of what’s done is publicity. This means that there’s a lot of downtime. Because it’s so spread out up here, there’s a lot to do. I thought my first week that I would run through the entire city in my morning warm up, but it took me three weeks because it’s so expansive.
The environment is great too. Because it’s so far north, it’s cold so I almost feel at home. I can push myself even harder than I usually do without worrying about overheating. Also with the penthouse loft I’m renting I get a nearly perfect view of the Northern Lights every night, plus an incredible sunrise to greet me first thing in the morning. It’s almost enough to make me want to remove the curtains.
Everywhere I’ve been I always get pressured to go to strip club, or titty bars as they’re called in some places. I continually turn it down, making up some excuse as to why I can’t go. Eventually the veterans around here would no longer take no for an answer so I was dragged along. They spent the whole trip raving about how the ladies and their shows out here are second to none.
I used the darkness of the venue to slip away from them to a corner to stay by myself, writing and looking out over this place. It’s dark as I already said, the place is filled with either smoke or some sort of dry ice fog, the music's too loud, and the thumping feels like an earthquake at times. A passing waitress wearing only a thong offers me a drink and I only get a tonic, no drinking tonight.
As I sit here in solitude, writing and enduring this thumping that’s supposed to be music, and wondering if I’ll get a headache soon, I noticed someone leaning over my table. "I can't stand a shy customer. Come along, I have plenty of entertainers who would love to meet you." Without looking up I respond that I don’t doubt it, but would prefer to politely decline.
Uninvited, she sits down and slides over, interrupting my writing. “You didn’t come here for my choice of fine liquors, or my choice of even more fine ladies. I’d like to know what you did come here for. You’re not in trouble, I’m only curious.”
I’m in quite a dilemma now. Do I really say what all I think and risk offending her, or feign interest in a VIP show just to go back to my solitude? I continue to sit in silence, pondering my two options. The former would likely piss her off unbelievably and would make me look like an ass for even coming. The latter would be passive-aggressive, ultimately solving nothing, word would get back what I’d done, and I’d again look like an ass for not having the courage to just come out and say it.
“I’m still waiting,” coos the sing-song voice, “You’re only making me more interested the longer you put off your answer.”
To tell the truth, I hate this place; this music isn’t enjoyable as the bass levels are so high as to feel like I’m being bombed; the drinks taste fairly bland; just watching the alcohol being mixed, I can tell it’s significantly watered down; I can’t hardly see anything with it being so dark and all the smoke filling this place; and with the ladies, I can probably find even better looking who can do far more than just simply shake their ass or tits in my face, and just from what I’ve seen I still don’t see even one that suits my tastes. Apparently I had said all this out loud.
The waitress’ eyes go unusually wide as she sets down my refill and hurries away. Looking over at who I can only presume is the owner, I can see the involuntary eye twitch that indicates offense. In an unsettlingly calm manner, she nods in slow motion, her voice is still somewhat cheery but each word sounds much more pointed as she now asks “So… Why did you come here, sir ?”
I only came because I was forced to simply to shut up my colleagues. If I definitively refused when they pressed, then the word would circulate all throughout work that I was a “fag” ⏤ the word makes me shudder, but that’s neither here nor there ⏤ or a “puss” because I maybe challenged their idea of who a stallion should be. I’m still new and with how much perception matters, a negative opinion of me would kill any momentum I’ve worked so hard for this far.
“Hmm…” She thought for a moment, then came up with an idea “How about this; I’ll find you a lady, take you to a VIP room, and you can give them the slip out the back?”
That was my idea all along, and hearing it from her makes me wonder why I didn’t just do that in the first place. Regardless, I go with it and follow her to a VIP room. I had to pass by other wrestlers’ table on the way over, getting stares of awe from them.
I sit in the room, which is surprisingly well insulated from the main area and one of the dancers is in there, I presume on a break. She goes by Candy, cliche name. She was only a year out of high school, doing this for college tuition, going to be a med student, won’t go back to dancing once she leaves, the exact kind of typical story you expect these ladies to have.
Having slipped out the emergency exit in the back, I walk in almost complete silence through the night streets. No wind, but overcast and not giving any view of the sky. As my steps echo off the buildings and down the empty paths, I can’t help but think about why a place like that bothers me so much.
For how much sex I’ve had and how casual I often feel it is, why should someplace like that bother me so deeply? It just doesn’t make any sense thinking about it. I can absolutely enjoy the psychology behind teasing and foreplay, and in fact prefer it; however, when with a sexual partner, I always know that said teasing/foreplay is always going to end in actual intercourse, whereas with a stripper it will not. Perhaps that’s why, it normalizes a part of the carnal process that I enjoy so much.
Before I turn the corner to go back to my apartment for the night, I pass by a small jewelry shop. There has to be several of these in town, but I don’t know why this one stood out so much. I’ll have to check it out sometime soon. All the lights were off, obviously, but a few things sparkled quite spectacularly in the dim moonlight and street light offered. If not tomorrow, I’ll stop by before the end of the week for sure.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 17: A Shrouded Past
Entry 17
As I pass by on my morning runs Glitter Jewel waves to me. She keeps asking when the next time will be, and on Saturday I finally give in, asking to make a day of it. Remarkably Glitter really re-locked the door to her shop and agreed. I do a quick shower and dress, this time not so formal.
She smiled brightly at how I noticed she changed her nail polish to baby blue from the usual snow white. Glitter had changed to it a few days ago but apparently no one else noticed, even her regular visitors. She asks me if she should change back, after all I never go without my hair braided in public. I say that if it makes her happier, I'd undo it.
We go to the same diner as before for breakfast. Their breakfast plates are surprisingly large, but that's what she orders. I went with a fruit salad, grits, and diced potatoes. With a cute nose wrinkle she says that my order makes her look like a pig. Glitter could be fat, roll around in mud, and snort but she wouldn't look like one. I then get a giggle and am called a suck-up.
We talk about her business for a while, and it seems yesterday the biggest diamond mining operation in the land had to pay a huge penalty for massive labor violations. I wonder if it will hurt, but she says it rarely does. Diamonds aren't a big part of her sales, and she doesn't even buy from this particular company.
After food we go for a walk through the city center. She wants to know about my family. I tell her about Sister, what she does and where she lives. Apparently they've butted heads before, Glitter narrowly escaping a smear campaign, only when she took sister directly to her source. One thing Glitter says she's most proud of about her business is that her wares are never mined on the backs of illegal labor.
I then talk of Papa, his huge rise in wrestling, his unfortunate decline as injuries caught up to him, and his personal Renaissance when he became a trainer. He was the one to train me, and he went tougher on me than any other student before or since. Part was the expectations of being his son, and the other that he didn't want me to get special treatment because of him.
Wrestling runs deep in our family. I tell her of Dedushka and his long, but quiet, career in wrestling. Instead of going into training, he retired to finally marry Babushka and they started a vodka distillery together. They've run that ever since.
Babushka was a self-taught chef from having to work as a nanny. When Papa was born they were about to leave each other, but when Dedushka laid eyes on Papa, he said he'd never leave home again. When their vodka business was slow starting, Babushka gave it a crutch by opening a kitchen. Today her kitchen is open to everyone, she doesn't charge a single bit to eat.
After lunch comes the difficult question, the one I hoped to avoid but knew was coming anyway. Glitter asks me about mother. My silence appears to give her a hint of it all, making her apologize and telling me to forget about it. I say that I do want to tell it, holding this back isn't going to help me.
Mother was the worst I've ever known. She wanted me dead, never sparing any moment to tell me so, she wished she had aborted sister, she's a drunk, a self-admitted gold digger, and has never had any friends. Her own family wants nothing to do with her.
She and Papa had fought many times. She had tried giving me away to an orphanage three times. Sister was a product of an affair mother had with a mail carrier. She had also tried to talk Papa into getting rid of sister as well. He would not have any of it.
When Papa finally discovered mother to be a lost cause, he got a divorce and she went further off the rails. She lied to the court about Papa being abusive only to get both Sister and me, which she did solely to spite him. I later found out she had bribed the judge.
For 10 years I suffered under her. Shaved head, no athletics, no after school activities whatsoever. I would be beaten savagely for having one poor mark in anything, and sometimes for no other reason than she was drunk and I looked like Papa. One time she broke a bottle over my head, then said if I told anyone she'd kill me in my sleep.
She tried to groom Sister to be her mirror image. Sister had too much conscience, becoming the first of us to fight back. I came to resent sister for a time because she would tell the school teachers the truth, causing them to pay mother a visit, which I then got blamed for.
Mother was often too drunk to do anything, leeching off the unfair settlement Papa had to pay her. I was the one who cleaned everything, I cooked for everyone, I washed all our clothes, and I woke Sister up every morning for school. It was why I couldn't run away from it all, I knew that if I left, Sister would die, either from mother's malice or her drunken incompetence.
Once sister reached eight, realizing that telling the school was going nowhere, we planned to run away. For months I would sneak out of the house at night, hoping to track down Papa. I finally got lucky one night, seeing Papa leave the Stalliongrad Civic Auditorium and followed him all the way to his then-ramshackle apartment.
The next day, after school we never went home. I took Sister and we went to Papa’s apartment. He broke down in tears upon seeing us, telling us everything about what happened. Unfortunately, it only took a day before mother sent police to find us. By sheer dumb luck she had sent them to Papa.
Both Sister and I told them everything we suffered for years. While we did, mother barged in. One officer intervened, saying they were handling the situation. Mother wouldn't have any of it, she told Papa he could keep me but that Sister was hers, pushing past the cop and jerking Sister by her arm, causing Sister to scream.
It's hard to say what came over me. I can only guess it was 14 years of torture and anger boiling over. It genuinely felt like an out-of-body moment. I could see everything happen in slow motion, knew what I was doing but was wholly powerless to stop it. I ripped mother's arm off Sister and spun her around. Mother grabbed a nearby chair, raising it over her head, but in one swift motion I struck her across the face with every ounce of strength. She dropped instantly, getting cut on the head when the chair fell on her.
I only saw her one last time. It was a custody hearing and she was in an orange gulag jumpsuit. She sat at the table, clearly seething as I told the court everything here. Sister did the same, but I found out something I didn't know. I found out that night when I tracked down Papa, mother had “sold” Sister and a drinking bum mother knew forced himself upon Sister.
Once she related that story to the court, mother made one last lunge at sister, was beaten severely by the police in court, removed and I have never seen her since. If I ever do, knowing what she did to my sister, I will finish what I was going to start with that slap.
This is why I never talk about mother. She is the most vile, hateful, despicable form of life in this world. Her whole life is dedicated to ruining others. Tears run down my face after recalling the horrors.
Glitter Jewel is on the bench next to me as evening twilight sets in. All she can do is bury her head into my chest, sobbing at my story. She is only the second one I've ever told this to. I don't say anything more, only watching the sky turn from orange to purple.
The evening wind blows, and my hand meets Glitter's. I ask if she wants to do dinner or if she would rather go. She's astonished, thinking I would have just walked after she made me relive a horrendous memory. I stand up, letting her stand with me and take her to dinner.
As we wait for a table, I ask what she does after work. She says that she's dangerously addicted to soap operas, especially the Telenovela ones. The one she's been watching lately is Yo Soy Betty, La Fea . I'm amazed her grasp of Spanish to be able to follow the show, but then I remember her school. She's more astounded that I even have interest in them, saying literally ever stallion she's met rolls their eyes at soaps.
We get seated and she tells me not only of Betty , but also of a dozen other great soaps she's seen and follows. Judging by her enthusiasm to talk about them and her happiness at my interest, there probably aren't many mares who like soaps either. We spend all dinner talking about them. At the end I once again pay for everything, despite her protest.
We then take a long evening walk back through the cent of the city, then back to her house. When we get there, I prepare to say goodbye but she asks if I'd like to stay a while. It's not even a question what I decide.
Glitter lives simple like me. She has a well-stocked kitchen, a large TV, and little else in the way of furnishings. We get situated on the couch, her soap about to start, and she offers me vodka. I settle with just water for tonight.
As we watch the show, I don't get the dialogue, since I never learned Spanish. Even with the language barrier, I still can follow most of the show through their motions, tone, and other visual cues. It’s a lot like wrestling in that sense, almost no one can hear you in the ring so you have to exaggerate yourself so they know what you said. I wonder if it’s intentional.
“Don’t tell me you’re watching this” says Glitter, snapping me out of it. Absolutely not, I respond almost instantly. “You can’t fool me, you big goof! Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.” We then go back to watching and now I notice she has her head on my chest. I slide my hand over towards hers, almost ready to take hold but pull back, not wanting to force the issue. She has no such inhibitions, reaching over and grabbing my hand, holding on for the rest of the evening.
The show ends and I notice she’s dozed off. I wake her up, saying that the show’s over and I should probably get going. She gives a long sigh, a hesitant nod, and stands up. We walk to the door, say goodbye and as I’m about to go she jerks my head down and kisses my cheek again, telling me that I better not make her wait a week for another date. I suggest tomorrow at my place, and she agrees.
The walk home seems unusually quick and I’m back in my bed. There’s really no confusion at this point, she really does like me. But then, she would obviously know who I am, so now I get nagging doubts that it’s just a scheme to get at my wealth… Until I smack myself. That sack of shit who is my mother is one of a kind, no one else tries to hurt someone like that, and especially not Glitter.
Please don’t let my past issues get in the way of this.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 18: Awaken A Sleeping Giant...
Entry 18
It’s an old, unspoken rule: if you lose your gaffe in the crowd during your match, your next match you have to get a hardway. One, it protects the art; and two, it gives incentive to not lose your blade. New guy Iron Bridle lost his gaffe in the crowd during his TV match, so his next match was against me. I’ve always found the best way is a straight-down “gorilla punch” palm strike on the eyebrow.
I managed to not only balloon his eye, but I also knocked him out. It still worked, the blood ran like a faucet down his face, and I got him into a cloverleaf for the win. Maiden didn’t appreciate how short the match was, but knowing he was out on his feet, she brushed it off with “Shit happens.”
Glitter Jewel is out for a few weeks, attending a gem show in Manehattan. With her gone, it feels quiet. Although with her gone, I’ve felt more efficient in my workouts, though that could just me pushing myself harder. I really should remember to take it easy on workouts.
My extra efforts during workouts got me invited by Shining Armor to give an exercise seminar to his castle, as well as give his guards a good session. The castle court thought I should write a book and thanked me for teaching the regimen. The guards I made all but maybe three of them puke, so all told I’d say my trip to the castle was a resounding success.
Back in wrestling, I had my first match with Headcrusher. It ended in countout when he got to the ropes to break my cloverleaf and just walked out. He then put on a cast, claimed I twisted his ankle, and put out a bounty on me. The offer of 5,000 bits to anyone who breaks my leg or otherwise prevents me from walking for at least a month. The challenge was accepted by none other than Crystal Empire champion Fissure.
The first match I have with him, he doesn’t put his title on the line, but spends the entire match going for my leg. It ends in disqualification after 25 minutes when he brings in the chair. I keep my composure with him, and accept the rematch next week for the title. The crowd for this house was actually 90% capacity, so the territory is turning around already.
Next Friday night, the venue is sold out for the first time in over two years. The main event is myself and Fissure for the title. He opens by trying to be cordial, but I don’t buy it and refuse to shake his hand. Predictably it turns ugly with him targeting my leg again, but he doesn’t find me to be easy prey.
I finally get the upper hand about 40 minutes in, but he packed his fist with a roll of coins, which flew everywhere when he hit me in the jaw. This also draws a disqualification as I drop to my knees to regroup. With the crowd ready to jump the barricades, Fissure grabs a chair to claim his bounty but Switchblade comes to the ring to undercut him. While those two fight each other, I take the opportunity to get out to safety.
At TV taping that week, I have a match with Flash Sentry again, but Fissure interrupts and causes yet another DQ win for me. This time he brought cronies with him in Switchblade and Jackhammer and they triple-team me before Flash and Shining Armor clear the ring just sparing me of Fissure’s finishing blow to my leg. After this I’m wearing a knee brace.
The next house, we sell out again but I won’t face Fissure this time. In the main event I instead get Switchblade. He spends half an hour trying to do me dirty, only to be foiled time and again. With one minute left before time limit, he slides into the ring with a chair but I mule kick it into his head, getting DQ’ed. With Switch down, I put a boot on his chest and flex for the crowd, only to get jumped by Fissure.
Switch was his sacrificial goat, and while I was vulnerable after the match, Fissure takes the chair and cracks me across the face with it. With me down and out now and no one to come to the rescue, he strips my knee brace and uses the chair to spear me in the side of my knee. Before I can instinctively grab my leg, he pulls me to the corner and handcuffs me to a ringpost, savagely stomping on and chopping at my leg with the chair, pushing away every referee who tries to intervene.
As Headcrusher walks out to the ring, briefcase of money in hand, Fissure pulls the metal ring steps up. While Head stands on the apron, watching in delight, Fissure strikes his finishing blow by crushing my lower right leg between the ring steps. Seeing as I’m powerless, Head cracks me over the face with the briefcase, sending the money spilling across the ring, and walks away as Fissure picks up every last bit before leaving himself. The police have to line the barricades to prevent a riot as medical staff uncuffs me and takes me back on a gurney.
As I’m rolled back through the dressing room, they don’t even stop, taking me to the ambulance waiting in the back. Police again have to intervene with the fans as they formed a physical barrier. With their shields forming a wall, they push the crowd back and the ambulance takes me straight to the emergency room. Iron Maiden accompanies us the whole way, not a word is shared between us.
They run standard medical procedures, giving me pain medicine, doing simple treatment on my leg, and then x-rays. The x-rays come up negative, and as the doctor shares the results with myself and Iron, he says I’m probably the luckiest patient he’s had in a long time. With a knowing smirk, Iron only remarks “Fissure is going to be very, very upset tomorrow morning.”
As I have nothing broken, I’m sent home and told to keep off my leg for a few days as simply a precaution. It’s no problem as I finally have my personal workout equipment set up in my apartment. Iron helps me up to my place and after I get situated, we shake hands. Before she leaves me for the night, she gives me a nod and tells me “Okay, now you can go dirty. Fissure is going to be so hot that even Sombra would be face in the ring against him.”
Our rivalry is only just getting started.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 19
One week until the rematch, and my vengeance is all that consumes my thoughts… Until Sunday. On Sunday Glitter Jewel returns from her gem show. I shouldn’t meet her at the station as I’m injured, but she will save me the trouble by coming to my apartment. This is the first time I’m not looking forward to seeing her.
This is the first time since we’ve been together that I’m kayfabing an angle. I can see in her eyes when we’ve talked that she does love wrestling, even if she denies it. The big problem is I don’t know if she’s smart. If she is, it’s nothing. If she’s not…
It’s perhaps the biggest taboo in the art to expose the work to anyone. There’s even rumors of some keeping up their gimmick around their family until the day they died. Papa never really factored into either side, his “gimmick” was himself, and the same is true for Dedushka. North Star and his family are smart, but that wasn’t my doing.
Glitter though… In our limited conversations about wrestling, she does strike me as being smart to it, but as she talks more about it, I just as easily begin to doubt the notion. I suppose part of the problem is I can’t really tell because we just don’t talk much about my work. But at the same point, I don’t talk much about it because I don’t want to expose it.
I don’t know what to do, kayfabe around her or explain it all? If I kayfabe, I lie to her. I protect the art, but at what cost? I’ve never felt this level of affection for anyone before. I feel like I can’t bring myself to do it. What will I do? Hearing her walk in through the door and out onto the balcony where I’m laid out means I have to decide now.
Glitter Jewel loudly drops her bags beside my lounge, delicately climbs on top of me and smothers my face into her bust with her hug, “I missed you so much,” her voice trembles a bit, “And the damned train ride felt like it took forever once I read you got hurt…”
That’s not what I wanted to hear, that means she doesn’t know it’s gimmicked. Keeping my chin on her breasts, she cradles my head with one hand and runs her fingers through my hair with the other, kisses my forehead and asks “How is it feeling today, my anvil?” She knows I don’t like being called that, but does it anyway.
With a snort of hot air down her shirt that makes her giggle, I groan “First off, stop calling me that. Second,” I then stand up, carrying her inside and causing her to give a startled squeal, “Does this answer your question?”
She’s looking around at my body, eyes wide in surprise. I’d forgotten, even in story I’m not injured. Fissure only thinks that I am, but will be in for a rude awakening. By surprising her with this display of my strength, I’m really not breaking character. “Kovanaya Stal,” she then angrily yells into my ear, breaking my thoughts and sending an eerie chill down my spine as she resorted to my true name, “What the icy hell is going on?!” Our eyes meet and hers carry a fire that could melt the tundra outside. “Okay,” I respond, obviously defeated in my tone, “I guess I have to explain some things.” I set her down on the couch and sit on the other end.
The wrestling you see is entertainment. The outcomes of all matches are predetermined. Maneuvers are done with full cooperation of opponents involved. Storylines and champions are planned often several months in advance. Wrestlers themselves are often good friends outside the ring.
That's not to say that it's not athletic, far from that. It takes an incredible amount of skill to do many things. Sure, an opponent will help you get him up in the air for a slam, but you still have to be strong so you can set him down right. If you don't, you can hurt his back, drop him on his head, dislocate his shoulder, many things. When I lift someone up for a piledriver, I need the strength to guide him up in a specific way to keep him in a safe position, and the strength to keep myself in a specific posture when I come down to keep him from dropping all his body onto his head and neck.
And even with all of this training, even with all of this athleticism, accidents will happen. Sometimes your footing will slip as you jump from the ropes and twist your ankle. Sometimes your adrenaline will get the better of you and you throw someone down too hard, dropping them on the head. All of the training in the world will not protect you from plain, old fashioned bad luck. Though the stories and competition may be “Fake,” the pain and risk of injury is very real.
Why do we portray it as real? Why does any work of fiction portray itself as real? It was created to entertain us. It's supposed to give us an outlet to escape from our cruel reality, if just for a few hours a week, and be a part of a world where good will always triumph over evil. A world where someone can win an unfair fight against all odds. We portray ourselves as real because we seek that suspension of disbelief.
As for me specifically, my leg is not hurt, not even in story. Though Fissure put a great effort into smashing my leg, trying his hardest to break it, a doctor gave me a clean bill of heath. This, however, is not going to be revealed until next show, when I challenge him. In the story, this means that bounty he sought he will now have to pay back unless he can finish the job.
“So that's everything,” I say, looking over at her, “That's the short of how wrestling is.” She only looks down, trying to digest it all. I can only watch her, hoping that maybe she wouldn't react angrily. After a long moment, she walks over to me.
“So it's all faked,” she asked, her voice not giving a hint of how she felt, “it’s not real?” I grit my teeth a bit before responding, “Some would say that, yes.”
“And what you just told me is the ultimate crime against it?”
“Yes, if anyone else knew I'd told you, I'd be ostracized. A pariah.”
Her expression now seems pained “Then why would you tell me all of this? Why risk ruining your life?”
“Because I love you, Glitter Jewel. I know we're only known each other for a few months, but I know from the bottom of my heart that I love you more than anything or anyone. More than wrestling. If you want me to quit, then I'll do it right now, without a second thought.”
Suddenly I feel her lips pressed against mine and her body embracing me. Her kiss was firm, as was her grip upon me. She doesn't say a word, but I know that she feels the same way as I do. I let her body pin me helplessly against the sofa as she breaks, her eyes wet with tears and her smile bigger than I've ever seen before.
Suddenly I feel a sharp slap against my face. “Hey now,” I protest, “What was that for?”
“Rule number one when we started dating,” her voice not doing well to hide her laughter “Don't ever flatter me.”
“I'm not trying to…”
I'm met with another stiff slap from her “Shut up and hold me, you big galoot.”
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Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 20: ...And Fill Him With A Terrible Resolve
Entry 20
Glitter Jewel seems to be in a happy mood as I wake up the morning of the big match. As she holds my legs during sit-ups she runs her hands along my thighs. She's done this before, and I don't mind most of the time, but this time she gets really close to “danger zone” and I do have to ask her to not since it's becoming distracting.
Similarly, she's rubbing my shoulders as she sits on my back for push-ups. At this point I wonder if she's testing my focus, so I do my best to ignore and block it out of my mind.
After breakfast I walk her to her shop for the day. I won't be taking her home since it's show night. Glitter will even be at the show. I then have a few hours to myself before I have to go to the crystal plaza for promotion. A fine time to recount the surprise for Fissure.
At Monday’s TV he was to receive his bounty from Headcrusher. As he presented it, I walked out to a loud response, both Crush and Fissure in disbelief. Crush slammed the briefcase on Fissure’s hands, escaping through the crowd. His cronies came out to try and jump me, but that didn't do any good as I ducked them, knocked them both down and stood on their chests as I demanded a match.
The match was granted. Fissure didn't want his Crystal Champion belt on the line, especially when it was revealed to be a cage match. I demanded the cage so we could finally have a fair match, and if I lose, I would pay double the bounty he tried for. And the announcement for the match, main event, ended the show.
But I still haven't gotten my hands on him.
At the match promotion down at the crystal plaza, Fissure dares to show up. Event security does all they can to keep me away, I don't hesitate to call out his cowardly running from me. All he has done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill me with a terrible resolve. The crowd is in a frenzy, they want blood, but more than anything, they want the belt on my waist.
After the promo, I head back to the apartment for a nap. I don't know the finish, and I probably won't be told until right before I walk out, but it still weighs heavily on me. I never take for granted being champion, it's a massive responsibility to be the top wrestler for anyone.
If the territory is booming, you're expected to keep that going. If it's slumping, you have to right the ship. If the world champion is in, you have to be strong enough to be his challenger. That last one is the most important, because if you're weak, then when he beats you, what has he accomplished? Especially if it took him nearly an hour to do it?
That's another good point that I see far too much newer talent not respecting, you have to put your opponent over and for the same reason. If you bury him, and then he beats you, what does that make you? If you bury him and win a close contest, how does that make you look, winning by the skin of your teeth against a complete scrub?
But I digress.
I awake from my nap in the late afternoon, or early evening, and have a sizeable lunch. I decide to forego a workout, instead focusing on hydrating. I also pass on watching other matches from my library, I have to stay in the moment.
6:30 arrives sooner than I thought, Iron Maiden herself escorting me to the arena. The ride over she doesn't tip the finish at all. I should figure her “poker face” to be the best, as she's always cleaned up whenever she sat down to play with the guys. We arrive only 10 minutes after we left, the large crowd making getting into the building slow.
I can't see her face from the back, but I can tell she's aghast at the crowd gathered this early before bell time. The surprise is in her voice as she says to no one in particular that she's probably going to have to turn people away. I ask when the last time that was out here, she turns back to me and says “20 years.”
Eventually police get us through the crowd, it taking us about half an hour to only go four blocks because of them. I walk to the dressing room, finding my usual spot, no one saying a word but there's a silent admiration of the feud Fissure and I have.
The usual group of old timers is playing poker in the corner, the agent is going between gorilla position and the dressing room, calling people for their matches. I'm already dressed in ring gear and begin taping my hands. Right before I put the roll away, I pull myself a razor blade from the bag.
The usual process: fold over and snap in half, use the nail file to whittle it down to index fingernail size, wrap all but the razor edge in tape, and then tape it to the wrist by only the exposed end. Most prefer to give their gaffe a thick grip with several layers of tape, but I keep it minimal, only enough that it won't cut my opponent. I prefer it this way so it doesn't protrude, it doesn't accidentally come free, and it's not obvious should an eagle eyed fan be looking in the wrong place.
I continue to wait, Iron was smart and packed the card tonight knowing she'd have a full house. Finally the agent calls for me, showtime. I double check my boots, run hands over my tape to make sure the gaffe is secure, and head to gorilla position. Iron is waiting, as is Fissure. She gives me a smile and gives her instructions.
“You boys have done a great job so far. Fissure, you could have made even Sombra turn babyface. Forge, you do a wonderful job carrying your family's legacy. As for tonight, it ends. Go 45, color is at your discretion, no limits, heel run-in at 40, finish is Forge gets the strap clean. Knock ‘em dead, boys!”
As Grinder plays, I walk out and try to check my nerves as I'm announced. The crowd cheers even louder as my name is said, and I duck into the cage. It's larger than usual, giving room on the outside to fight, as well as having a roof to make it clear that there is no escape rule in effect. This will have to be a pin or submission.
When Fissure comes, the jeers are so loud you can’t hardly hear his entrance theme of Metal Health . Some fans along the aisle are even throwing garbage as he riles them up further. One dumps a drink on him, and police are quick to keep him away as they escort the fan out. I glance up and see that Shining Armor, Cadence, and–oddly enough–Princess Luna are all in the royal box. Fissure gets into the ring, his belt is presented, whisked away to the timekeeper, and the cage locked.
The bell rings to start the match, and my eyes have never left Fissure since he walked out from the curtain. He sidesteps around, and I do the same, not going to let him get behind or even leave my sight. He extends a hand for a shake, wearing a shit-eating grin, and I just reach past and slap him in the face, getting a thunderous cheer from the crowd. I then charge to get a hold only for him to slip out of the ring, slam the apron and kick the steps in a tantrum, changing the reaction to just as loud booing.
Fissure turns his back to jaw at a fan, allowing me to slip out of the ring. When he turns around I’m right there, allowing me to get a hold and throw him overhead into the ring. He writhes on the ground as I walk up the steps and into the ring. As I hop to drill an elbow into him, he rolls away, I miss, and get only the mat. As I grasp and slap my elbow, he rebounds off the ropes and puts a knee to the back of my head. I fall face first and he puts on a rear chinlock, the audience again voicing their resounding disapproval.
I attempt to grab a rope but I’m too far away, even for my reach. He then takes the braid into his mouth and pulls, getting the crowd to yet again voice their disapproval. I’m about to voice my own protest before I remember that there’s no disqualification in a cage match, that would be ridiculous. I wave off any submitting and take a moment to focus myself. I then cinch my arms around his thighs and contract my core to bring my legs up. Getting my knees under me, I manage to stand, the crowd in awe as I get upright. Fissure shakes his head frantically as I fall backward, dumping him off and breaking the hold.
Ten minutes elapsed is called.
I take a moment to shake off the cobwebs, then after regrouping I now focus my assault on Fissure. He starts to get up on the apron, so I punt his face, sending him flying back into the cage. I follow him to the floor, and wait for him to get up. Once he’s standing I slap him across the face, he stumbles a few steps and turns around for another slap, and I circle him around the ring. Turn, face, slap, repeat. Fissure tries to block but my reach is too far for him to overcome, he eventually falls over the steps and crumples up while I slide back into the ring rubbing my hands.
Fissure is dazed as he claws up the apron and rolls under the rope. I extend my hands and squat down, offering to help him up. The sucker takes the bait and I’m quick to whip him into a corner. Using my long reach again, I press his head back, Fissure’s arms flailing with the crowd getting rowdy. I raise my index to my lips, the crowd then falls hushed, then my free hand lifts up and comes down on Fissure’s chest with a thunderous crack.
With the overhand chop, he slides down the turnbuckles, only for me to crouch and again offer to help him up. Still dazed from earlier, Fissure once again takes the bait, only to be tossed into the other corner. Crowd rowdy, shh gesture, chop, crumple, repeat for third corner, repeat for last corner and he slides out under the bottom rope to the floor once again. I won’t give him a break and slide out after him. No sooner do I grab him up by the hair do I see an object swing quickly for my head. I attempt to get my hands up with a bang that leaves ears ringing.
Twenty minutes elapsed I barely hear over the tinnitus.
The cyka grabbed a chair and managed to get a full-blown overhead swing on me. Fissure lifts the chair up once more and cracks it across my back, then jabs it repeatedly into the same knee he tried to injure before. He then stands me up to try and hit me in the head once again, but I kick the chair back into his face… Or so I thought, it flew out of his hands and missed him completely. He then whips me head-first into the steps, sending them flying and me into a crumpled mess.
No sooner than I make sense of my situation, I feel my hair pulled and I’m lifted up once more, only to be pressed face-first into the chainlink fence of the cage. Fissure lets me fall back, then curb stomps my head before striking a pose and giving a weasel laugh. I feel a familiar sting in my eye and realize my forehead is busted open. This thought is only confirmed as the hand I use to slap some sense into myself is wet and bright red. I suddenly feel my hair pulled again and my head is slammed into the ring apron before I’m pushed into the ring.
I utter a curse to myself, then am pulled by my leg to a corner. As soon as I look to see what’s happening, the knee Fissure tried to break is slammed into the post, the crowd continuing to voice their displeasure. He once more grabs my ankle, gets a running start, and slams the same knee into the post again. Fissure tries a third time and I manage to push him away, but he comes at me with a chair, spiking its edge into the knee. He climbs into the ring with the chair as I sit up, only to get smacked in the shoulders with it. The chair is tossed aside, Fissure wraps the leg around the post, and uses it for leverage as he wrenches my knee. I can’t get hold and now am in serious trouble.
The call of Thirty minutes blares throughout the venue.
My heart sinks as I realize it’s a futile effort to try and and grab hold of him. In frustration I slam my shoulders down and pound my fist. Then I see the chair out the corner of my eye, Fissure carelessly tossed it away, and it’s the only chance I have to keep him from breaking my leg. I lay flat and stretch my arm out to try and grab a hold. The crowd starts to cheer, realizing what I’m doing, only for Fissure to see as well and kneel for more leverage on his wrenching.
I slam my free boot on the mat in frustration again, then realize he left my good leg free. I pull it until the knee is on my chest, my eyes locking square on his nose. He gets a deer-in-headlights look as my boot raises and travels like a gunshot, hitting its mark. Fissure is dazed as I grab the chair and scramble to my feet. He ducks between the ropes with a fist cocked, but before he can deliver a low blow, my reach works to my advantage with a deafening crack.
As he crumples on the mat, I punch my knee a few times to try and numb it up so I don’t limp. Standing by the corner and wanting him to get up, I look at the turnbuckle, getting an idea. With one fierce swipe, I forcibly rip away the protective padding on the top turnbuckle, and rear back with the chair. Once he stands and I see the whites of his eyes, I again swing the chair down and down him with yet another crack, but it’s nearly drowned out by the crowd’s cheers. Not giving him an opening, I lift him up by the hair, drag to the center of the ring and arm drag, sending him face-first into the exposed turnbuckle.
Twenty minutes remain can scarcely be heard over the capacity crowd reaching fever pitch.
Fissure is bleeding like a stuck pig as I drag him once more to the middle. Suddenly the boos come back as his two cronies, Switchblade and Vice Grip, run up to the cage door. The chain and padlock around looks enough to stop them as they both pull frantically and in unison at it. I drag Fissure over to the ropes on that side, leaning him over the top in front of me and use both thumbs to gouge his eyes, making Fissure screech in front of their faces. Vice Grip walks back up the ramp towards the curtain as I bring Fissure back to the center. With another drag of Fissure’s arm, he is sent back into the corner, over the top turnbuckle and strikes his forehead squarely onto the top of the ring post, to a thunderous pop of the crowd.
Fissure twitches, out cold in a crumpled heap in the floor as Vice Grip comes running back with a crowbar and bolt cutters. They snip the chain easily, fling the door open and take opposite sides of the ring. The situation looks very grim as they both slide in and make a deliberate walk towards me. As Switchblade in front of me rears over his head with the crowbar, I duck and mule kick behind me, by luck getting Vice in his family jewels. He keels over and takes the blow square on his head as I roll to the side.
Switch is on the warpath, swinging wildly every which way at me as Vice rolls uselessly out of the ring. I notice behind Switch that Fissure is coming to, and put myself between them. Just as predicted Switch charges and I sidestep, but he holds short of his “boss,” dropping the crowbar. I take the pause to slam both their heads together. Switch crumples in a heap while Fissure rolls under the bottom rope to the apron. Seeing a chair on the floor and seeing my opportunity, I utilize the second-most devastating throw in my repertoire. I raise my right hand up and behind me, eyes fixed on Switch.
Ten minutes remain can be heard, but the crowd is now buzzing in anticipation as I stalk Switchblade.
As Switch gets up, shaking the cobwebs off, my heavy right hand squeezes his throat. His eyes trace up my arm and meet my face, going wide as a pair of dinner plates. I raise him up and he realizes what’s coming, shaking his head frantically and screaming for mercy. I have none of it, holding him high up by his throat for all to see, turning slowly around to face the chair and propelling him down. A picture-perfect chokeslam down onto the chair, and he gets all of said chair, putting him out of the fight. Time to end this now.
Fissure realized what was coming and wrapped the chain and padlock around his hand. He runs and swings the chain at me, but I manage to duck, running to the ropes. He turns around to see me jumping off the second rope and delivering a spectacular dropkick square to his head. With him down, I waste no time dragging out a folding table, tossing it into the ring. I have my second wind, using my newfound strength to quickly swing the legs out with a firm shake of the table, standing it in the middle of the ring.
The chokeslam was my second-most devastating maneuver, this is the most devastating move. It’s banned universally in all territories because it’s considered too dangerous. The match contract had a special stipulation, even with no disqualifications, to allow this move specifically. I jerk Fissure up onto the table by his hair, definitely clinging onto consciousness by a thread. I join him on the table as he gets his knees under him, tapping his chin up with my palm. His knees shake, then his head is jammed between my thighs. I lift Fissure up completely vertical, the crowd noise causing ears to ring, and fall down. Piledriver! Through the table and Fissure is completely limp as I pounce on top, the referee slamming the mat emphatically and crowd counting in unison with him…
One…
Two…
… Three!
“Your winner at 53 minutes and 29 seconds by pin… And NEW Crystal Empire champion… ‘The New Iron Curtain,’ Forged! Steel!!!”
My arm is raised and I let out a primal yell I didn’t know I had in me. The belt is placed in my hands as I get to my feet and I hold it high, triumphant. Vice Grip is helping Switchblade back towards the curtain as Headcrusher stands at the top, a look of rage on his face. I then extend my arm out, pointing at him and yell “You’re next, cyka !” As Vice passes by, he turns, kicks Vice in the ass, and follows them back to the dressing rooms.
I can’t believe I’ve done this, it hardly feels real! Bringing the gold belt to my face, I place a kiss in the center, sling it over my shoulder and start my slow walk back. I’m blown up, so I can’t see the crowd as I do, the medics rushing by me to get to the ring now that the cage is raised up. I stop at the top of the ramp and turn to the ring as Switch is lifted up. Once I see the whites of his eyes up at me, I once again hold the belt high in the air with both hands. The lights come back on and I go back to my corner of the dressing room.
Tears are hot rolling down my cheeks as the babyface dressing room gives me a standing ovation. Through the divider, I can hear the heel room stomping wildly in substitute for applause. I crumple to my locker, hugging the belt tight to my chest. I don’t know how long I sit there, my red eyes pouring tears down my face long past the point they’ve gone red. As I sit there, each and every wrestler, even the heels from the other side, pat me on the back and shake my shoulder while offering congrats.
Some time later I feel someone small hug my head and neck, smelling a familiar perfume. I glance up and see Glitter, her own cheeks wet with tears and face beaming with a smile that might rival even my own. Her voice shakes as she whispers “You just gave the best match I've seen in 20 years of wrestling, my love.” I can only nod weakly, what else would I say or do? She helps me stand up, her arms locking around my chest. I gaze down at her and our eyes meet as she says softly “Let’s go home, Kovanaya Stal.”
If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 21
Glitter fell asleep in my arms, though we stayed at her house, since it was closer to the hospital. I still had to go get my cuts stitched up after all. We just fell right straight asleep, since we woke up clothed the next morning.
As we wake, I'm thankful I left a few outfits for myself at her house just in case something like this happened. While she showers, I find myself one of my shirts and shorts and begin to get in a morning warm up and workout. It's shortly after dawn so there's not many people out, though the whole town was definitely at the show since almost everyone I did see took time to applaud and congratulate me on finally beating the twit, Fissure.
I return back to Glitter's, feeling good for getting three miles in, and do some basic exercises. No weights today since she doesn't have a set. I conclude the session with stretching as Glitter finally emerges in just her bathrobe. She usually insists on making us food so I'm a bit surprised she asks me to, saying she can't since she wants to wait for her nails to finish drying. Instead of the powder blue, she's now sporting a deep violet with glitter sprinkled throughout. She's said before that glittering her nails is a massive chore without getting it everywhere, and I don't doubt it.
As I get to fixing some food, I can see she's trying to distract me again. You can see clear into the kitchen from where she set her living room, her bathrobe leaves little to imagination, and she's got her legs up on the arm of the sofa, watching me. The desire to turn and look burns at me while I try to focus on not burning the food. I can't help but think that she wants me to get a good view of her.
No sooner than I finish cooking, my suspicion was confirmed. As I set the food down and finish, I feel her hands under my shirt and sliding up my chest. Her body presses into my back and she purrs “Now I know you're not this naive, turn around.”
As I slowly turn, my shirt is lifted up. Once it comes over my head and off, I now see she had left her robe on the couch and I'm staring at Glitter in all her glory. I'd wanted and chased this for so long that now I'm almost not sure what to do, like a dog who finally catches the cat. Her hands caress my chest, then take hold of the waistband of my shorts and pull them open as she pulls me close.
“You have me, all alone in my house, and all to yourself…”
My hands run along her shoulders and down her arms as I only ask where. Without a word, Glitter lets my shorts slide down my legs and off. She then takes a hold of my member with both hands, using it to guide me to her bedroom with a smile I'd only seen her give me once before. Glitter then slides back on the bed and, with a giggle heavy with lust, beckons me to join her.
I climb onto the bed, kneeling over the top of her. Glitter's hands once again take hold, gliding effortlessly along my length. As she slides closer to me, she licks her lips, and takes the tip in her mouth. Before I can tell her to go easy on me, a rush of pleasure arcs my back, making me put a hand down behind me to keep from collapsing.
Glitter's hot, accommodating mouth wastes no time in working over almost my whole cock, save for a hand she keeps near the base to please the last bit she can't swallow. Her other hand has a hold of my swollen sack, delicately rubbing and squeezing them. As I slide my legs out and into a sitting position for her, it dawns on me that I haven't gotten off at all since I arrived here months ago.
Before long, her mouth lifts away, both her hands again stroking me as she kisses my neck. Glitter asks if I'm ready for her, and no sooner than I nod she's pushed me onto my back. Keeping me pinned down with one arm, she reaches into her nightstand, pulling out a condom and unwrapping it. Having slid it on, she then positions herself over my tip.
Glitter must have been enjoying herself as much as I was, since she accommodated half of me with no additional lube. She lets out a soft gasp as she takes me in, slowly rising and falling in a steady rhythm. My pleasure is also evident from my own faster breathing and faint vocalizing. Glitter's hands go from my chest, to my arms, then to my shoulders. She pulls my chest up against her as my hands find her rear and give a firm squeeze, which she reacts to by forcefully pushing her lips onto mine.
As she pushed into the kiss, her tongue savoring the taste of my mouth, Glitter's hands now find the back of my head and pin it into the kiss. It's not like I was going to try to escape. I thought she would be surprised by me returning the tongue play, but it only makes hers more impassioned, eliciting a giggle through her moans.
My stamina runs out sooner than I thought it would, and she feels it also. Our kiss breaks and our eyes lock as I finish, though her grip going tighter before suddenly loose shows that she reaches climax at the same time as I have. We slowly lay back and I take care to pull out, tossing the used condom into a nearby wastebasket flawlessly, as if this were some sort of porn movie.
We simply lay there for what feels like hours, holding hands, eye to eye. I hadn't had sex in months, and I can see in her that she hadn't either. Not a word is shared in our embrace, only our breathing as it slowly returns to normal. I feel like I could lay here all day and be happy with it.
I eventually break the serenity with a quick kiss of her lips and mention that there's still breakfast getting cold. She nods and agrees we should probably get on it. I first sit up, then stand, but she's got her arms and legs wrapped around me still. Undaunted, I carry her to the kitchen, grabbing the food and we eat.
After, we spent the day lounging on the couch. We never even got dressed again.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 22
The walk across town seems to take much longer than usual. We've gone this way many times and I've even seen the house before, but this is the first time going to it.
“Stop sulking already, you big baby. For the thousandth time, my family isn't out to crucify you.”
That was harsh of Glitter. I've only ever met a significant other’s family once when I was dating a dragoness in university, and I was roundly shunned by them, so excuse me for being a little defensive.
“Minorly defensive? You're walking like the condemned walk to the gas chamber.”
We finally make it to an otherwise unassuming house near the edge of town. Otherwise unassuming because there are three high price exotic sports cars out front. The hood is up on one which suddenly slams down as we walk up. A royal guard in dress uniform, a Master Sergeant by the look of his insignia, greets Glitter with a hug, then glares at me and asks her “Who's this meathead?”
What a great start, her brother already thinks I'm a jock. Not one to back out of a challenge, I cut ahead of Glitter by saying that this “meathead” is Forged Steel, Glitter's boyfriend, you jarhead. When he takes a step towards me, Glitter interrupts him by pulling his ear. “You are not going to be starting fights!”
She then glares at me, “And you are not going to be ‘finishing’ them!” Her brother and I only glare at each other before he starts into the house, Glitter and I following.
As we go inside, the whole house turns its attention to Glitter, and then to me. Instead of just a common, casual introduction, her mother decides to sit everyone in the living room and go around to introduce themselves. The three jarheads decide to sit right next to me, not even letting Glitter sit beside me. She looked pretty annoyed about that, rolling her eyes and uttering a curse in Russian, which I suspect she did to try and cheer me up.
As she told me months ago, her three brothers were in the guard. The one who decided to start something earlier was the oldest, Cracked Jewel. He's 40, Master Sergeant, instructor in security details. He was holding the Specialist rank for a long time, having graduated basic training with the rank, but was too old to justify keeping so low on the pole. That said, his knowledge in the field was considered to be so indispensable that he was fast-tracked to Master Sergeant so that he would be put in an instructor role. With his rank, he also coordinates most of the security details for the various parties that Princesses Luna and Celestia hold at their castle.
Her two other brothers, Chipped and Broken, are twins, age 36, ranked Sergeant First Class, and drill sergeants. I recognized them vaguely from the workout seminar I did at the Crystal Palace. Originally one was at Canterlot and the other up here at the Crystal Palace, until they made Sergeant. Once they got Sergeant, they immediately volunteered for Drill Sergeant School and have never looked back since. Chip and Broke have just started their third tour as Drill Sergeants, their second together. The first one, they were pretty good, but once paired up on the same recruit platoon, the command noticed that their platoon, in particular, picked up much quicker and scored better in all tests than any other platoon in the battalion, let alone same company.
It’s probably pretty obvious how I don’t like hearing about military achievements because once Glitter managed to squeeze between me and Crack, she jabbed her elbow into my side and quickly hissed at me to “at least fake some interest.” I rub the spot she jabbed me and try to put on my best “professional” smile, listening to the three go on about their service.
I’ve always had a disdain for the military, seeing it as only a necessary evil at best. Papa says this is Sister rubbing off on me, which I suppose has some credibility since we were our only friends for much of our childhood. Dedushka was conscripted into the Stalliongrad Armed Force at an unusually high age, 30 years old, because “they needed fighters.” This service is the actual reason he had to retire from wrestling, and all athletics in general, because he was exposed to a chemical agent that gave him a form of asthma which he will have for the rest of his life.
Dedushka never spoke particularly well of his time, saying the best part is probably the drinking and the songs. Because Stalliongrad wanted to go pick a fight with some griffons, he got ripped away from Babushka, who he’d been with since high school, as well as Papa as a newborn. The recruiter he reported to even said that 30 is normally way too old, but gave him that aforementioned line. The first time I ever drank with him, he ended up breaking down and telling me of the horrors he saw on the field, even suffering a traumatic flashback.
Papa was also conscripted, but at a younger age, and without any foals or a lover to leave behind. I remember him talking at length of how horrific the training was, that you were expected to stand still and look forward without blinking while the instruction commander berated you and your ancestors. If you moved even an inch, he would cap your knee with a billy and repeatedly kick you while you were on the ground until you got back up. Reporting this, because technically it was illegal, would only result in the instructor hearing about it and beating you again.
Strangely, despite all these experiences, the permanent damage it’s caused them mentally and physically, both of them say that they wouldn’t trade it away. Despite how savage it is, they are grateful for the friends they made, and the kind of doors it opened for them in other ventures. Though unlike many veterans I’ve seen, they refuse the thanks for their service, insisting to not be treated differently just because they served.
On top of all this, I also have had a lot of full-blown fights with royal guards because they get amped up on their military pride, drunk on their drink of choice at a bar, and find me. Until I got here in the Crystal Empire, I worked as a villain. I have never once sought out a fight at any point in my life. I like to keep my fights worked and, at a minimum, in a wrestling ring. But these jarheads always try to fight me because I’m visible and because they think their uniform makes them untouchable. This has led to many fights, often with two or three at a time, of which I haven’t lost one yet.
And worse, the law enforcement always takes their side. Every fight I've been in, not one guard–who, again, have always instigated–ever gets in trouble. Of every fight with a fan I've been in, easily 70 percent of them were military. Maybe I take it a little too personally, maybe it’s because I don’t see them get torn to shreds by their commander. Regardless, this is why I’ve never liked the military. If I were ever conscripted, I would go to prison before serving.
As I was lost in my thoughts, I had missed the rest of the brothers’ stories, and my expression was showing my thoughts again because I was snapped out of it by another sharp elbow from Glitter. Since the looks from the brothers had only gotten dirtier, they knew exactly what I was thinking. Anyhow, by now the figurative spotlight had moved on to Glitter’s parents. Her mother, Gleaming Jewel, is 62 and a professor of architectural engineering. She had previously instructed at universities of Manehattan, Baltimare, and Vanhoover, but recently moved to Crystal Community College to be closer to home.
Before settling on engineering, she had also taught advanced calculus and statistics at a college level. Gleaming loves to teach, saying it’s a great feeling watching young minds pick up on something they never knew about before. Before being picked by Manehattan University to teach their math classes, she was a chemistry and physics teacher at the Princess Cadence Preparatory Academy. She credits getting that out of school to dumb luck, and maybe a silver tongue, since they were expressly looking for teachers with at least five years experience at the high school level, and she got it as her first ever teaching job.
Her father, Ancient Jewel, is also 62 and an orthopedic surgeon. When he went to school, he had actually specialized, become resident for, and became board certified in emergency medicine. Though it put a lot of strain on him, he continued to work as lead ER doctor at the hospital even after Crack was born. Ancient’s hard work despite the circumstances was noticed and he was made chief of staff at the hospital by the time that Crack first learned to walk.
A few years later, he had to resign this position because Chip and Broke were born, and he knew he would have to choose at some point between being a father or being a hospital chief. This lead him to what he considers his biggest career challenge, going to university to learn a specialty while raising three sons, and still working part-time at the hospital. Somehow he managed it all, becoming board certified in orthopedics, and starting his own practice. He’s been working that for 30 years now, though his dedication to ponies’ health keeps him from slowing down.
This left just Glitter’s older sister, Radiant Jewel, age 30. When I saw her, I immediately recognized her from a poster I'd seen some time ago. Unfortunately, that last bit didn't stay in my head. Radiant smiled and asked me which poster. Glitter, however, had an obvious glare as she chimed in “Yes, which poster?”
Crack wore a smug grin, while Chip and Broke stared daggers at me. The parents watched us closely. Radiant is a porn star, no other way around it. I remembered as soon as I saw her, but I'm also part professional talker, so I mentioned it was an advertisement for a hiring agency. Thankfully for my sake, Radiant caught on and played along, mentioning how it paid little and took many attempts to get the shot right.
Radiant I can see is going through the motions as she tells us all of her modeling career. I’m in a sport that’s dominated by sexually repressed, and sometimes emotionally stunted, stallions, so I know full well her type of modeling, even though she never says it. She is, plain and simple, a porn star. I’ve seen her in many a locker, both at the gym and the wrestling locker room. For a time in college, I think I actually had a few videos she starred in. The dragoness I’d dated said that Radiant was her lady crush.
Cynder, her name, had always had some odd tastes in porn, preferring double teams, gang bangs, and “pet” play. I’ve never had much a taste for any of that. My mantra is “Why can’t you just have sex?” As such, I’ve always preferred my pornographic material to be as vanilla as the ice cream I buy. That said, I’m not opposed to a second partner once in a while.
The spotlight has now shifted to me, time to put the porn away. I tell them I'm a professional wrestler, getting everyone but the jarheads interested. Chip butts in with a snide remark about how I only “pretend to be tough”. The tension in the room immediately escalates, and I reply with how I also pretended to go undefeated for the last three Equestrian Games to win gold medals. Broke’s smug shows as he says I still can't hold a candle to him. I look right at him with a challenge, just say where and when. As he turns on his seat to presumably take a chance at me, I also hear Broke and Chip crack their knuckles, while the mares sigh in disgust at them and roll their eyes, not impressed with their machismo.
“Cracked Jewel, Broken Jewel, and Chipped Jewel. I raised you better and you know it. Knock it the fuckoff, now!” The stern interjection comes from Ancient, who makes it very clear from the bulging vein in his forehead and his sharp tone that he’s seen this play out too often before, “You three do this every time Glitter meets someone new, and it's damn old.”
With the three twits silenced, Ancient lets me continue. I go on about my time in University, studying nutrition and physical therapy, this way after sport I can do something. I mentioned that I was considered a stand out in basketball as well as wrestling, which brought the natural question from Gleaming of why Canterlot and not Manehattan. It's because Manehattan were cheating athletes’ grades, their academics, in general, were terrible, and they were going to make me do only wrestling or only basketball, but not both. Gleaming wore a smirk as I said this, knowing exactly what I was talking about.
I continue on about me, then my family. When I mention Sister, I get a few dirty looks from Radiant and the jarheads, indicating that her reputation naturally precedes her. Such is life being related to Sister, I just have to make clear that I’m not her. I also talk of Papa and my grandparents, what they all do, and where they all live now. Gleaming asks about mother, I say that I haven't seen her in over a decade, and she mercifully takes the hint by nodding and brushing it aside.
“Well, we’ve been cooped up long enough in here,” Gleaming concludes, standing up with a warm smile, “It was wonderful to meet you Forged Steel.” Ancient agrees, as well as Radiant, though the brothers give unconvincing nods. Everyone is adjourned, and Radiant and Gleaming go to start dinner, while I go out onto their backyard patio to try and get away from the boys.
Sometime later, I'm still sitting in their backyard when Crack finds me writing this and tries to snatch my book away. I see his hand coming out the corner of my eye and intercept, pinching his wrist hard enough to make him curse.
“What are you writing, jock?”
None of your damn business, jarhead.
“You got a problem with me?”
Do you have one with me?
“Yes, you've seen both of my sisters naked.”
Big deal, my sister's girlfriend has seen her naked and I don't care.
“So she's a rugmuncher after all.”
Thats where I draw the line, slamming my notebook closed emphatically. I firmly state that if he uses that word in my presence again, or says anything derogatory about my sister around me again, I'll correct his attitude in a way that even his precious guard is afraid to. Because while those mindless drones may fear the bars on his jacket, I don't.
“You want the fight, jock? Let's have the fight.”
Lose the uniform then, for your own sake.
Crack is quick to lose the coat and shirt. I calmly set aside my notebook, walk to the middle of the back lawn, and take a ready stance as Chip and Broke walk out to watch. Like a fool, he charges head down, allowing me to drive him face first into the grass. Just as soon as he hits the ground, I'm on top of his back, wrenching a full nelson.
When Crack taps out, I release the hold, but am just as quickly ambushed by Chip. He goes for a basic rear choke, but my hand anticipated this and blocked. My other hand pulls his chin to my head and I break his hold with a chinbreaker maneuver. Before Chip can react, I wrestling throw him head over heels and lock in a heel hook. Though he tries to combat it, he saves his leg by also tapping out.
Radiant looks outside to see Broke square with me. He looks to know what he's doing as he took a low stance instead of a careless charge. When he reaches in, I attempt a triangle choke but he blocks. He then pulls a leg out, trying to transition to a kneebar, I get my legs up high to prevent it. He reaches for what would probably be an ankle lock but I snatch his arm, forcing him into the ground, then twist his arm I trapped into an omoplata. When he realizes his arm is in danger of being broken, he finally taps out.
I stand up, dusting myself off as they look up at me in awe. I then calmly sit back down on the bench, going back to my notebook as Glitter comes outside. At first, I expect Glitter to scream at me, but her attention is instead focused on her three blockhead brothers. She lays into them in an enormous, loud, curse-filled monologue before making them out themselves to their dad. She then sits in my lap with a hug, apologizing for everything.
The rest of the evening went quietly, the three “tough” guard sergeants now afraid to even make eye contact with me. At dinner, Gleaming asks about my wrestling, saying she knows pro wrestling is predetermined and choreographed. She also asks whether all pro wrestlers really do know how to fight or if it’s a minority. I can really only speak for myself on this matter.
On my own account, I am a holder of almost every notable record in the “amateur” ranks. I made it to the finals of the national tournament in my freshman year of high school, losing narrowly, but never lost again in the Nationals. That means that I went on to win the Nationals in the heavyweight division the next three years of high school, and all four years of college. In college, I was the only one in history to win Nationals without surrendering even a point, and I did it twice. Naturally, I was invited to join the Equestrian games, qualifying all three times I was eligible, and going on to win gold in Freestyle Heavyweight all three times. In summary, while there are some pro wrestlers who don't know how to fight “for real”, I am one who does. If push comes to shove, I’m not afraid to show it.
At the end of the evening, I receive another round of apologies from the parents, who say they're more than happy to have me back if I'd like to come back. I also get an apology from each of the brothers, who seem in genuine awe of my abilities. Radiant says she's jealous Glitter found me first, but is happy she has me around.
Back at my apartment, Glitter thanks me for being the first she's seen to actually be brave enough to beat some sense into her brothers. As we curl up on the couch to watch her telenovela , she goes into how they do this to every boyfriend she's brought around them, and how she's so sick in general of how they baby her.
All things considered, I have to say everything actually went well.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 23
Looking back and reflecting on it all, I wasn't entirely honest about my interactions with Glitter's brothers. While I certainly did wrestle and submit them, as well as the rest of her family liking me for standing up to their antics, I was an instigator of problems yet again. Like many times in my life, I should have let it go but I took it personally. What led up to the fight was my doing.
The ladies had went to make dinner for everyone, and I was sitting in their living room. As I was minding my own business, Broke decided to ask why a specimen like myself didn't join and that my work ethic would see me at a high rank. Instead of explaining diplomatically that I was never interested, I instead explained my hate for all things military, didn't explain what it did to my family, and that I'm proud to be a conscription dodger back home. The last bit is why I can't go home for any longer than a few days.
Chip overheard and tried to say that their teasing was meant in jest, but I took further exception, saying that there's no joke in making someone relive the harassment they endured in school, just so you can feel like you're superior to someone who's accomplished more in a decade than you will in your life.
With that, I left and then the fight occurred soon after.
That was a week ago as I write now. They did call us to apologize a few days after, and I made sure to apologize for myself. Glitter was a little confused by it, so I explained everything she missed between myself and her brothers. She's worried about my anger problems, and by how they seem to flare up more easily around her. It's a valid concern, and I don't know why I feel like I have to “protect” her, nor do I know what I try to protect her from. I suppose the only bright side is that I don't let it well up inside me.
Another mutual off day we had, and I spent most of it serving as her pillow while she watched her soaps. Seeing that my experience with her brothers was still bothering me, she offered to lighten up the mood by taking me out to a Russian restaurant and bar near the edge of town. I hadn't heard about the place, but after just one time there, I really wish that I had and regret it took me eight months to find it. Judging by the reaction of everyone who was there, they probably wished I had as well.
The food is heavenly, like I was back home. While nobody can compare to Babushka’s cooking, this place came very close, and maybe only my bias keeps me from considering it equal. Fresh pierogis hot and out of the pan, shchi from scratch by the pot, and local fermented kvass by the gallon and garnished by mint right off the plant. Glitter had never tried Russian cuisine before, but such a divine experience here I could tell made her a fan already. I was just left to wonder if that was how it always was or if they were putting extra effort in just for me.
The atmosphere of the place was just as great; loud, rowdy, have to yell over partying to talk at your table. This was what a party should be, not those stuffy, stiff, uptight ordeals constantly held at the palace. It was lively and fantastic, even with the repetitive celebrity fawning I was getting. The gawking should have been expected on my part, being a proudly Russian wrestler, babyface at that, and in an unmistakably Russian restaurant and bar. I had to turn down many freebies offered, although Glitter humorously had no such objections.
The bar also had wall-to-wall options, every drink you could think of and then some, but what caught my eye was Dedushka’s vodka, front and center. I ordered a bottle of it and Glitter and I shared a bit of it over our late lunch. I had to insist several times that I pay for it, which the barkeeper finally relented on, compromising with me on a discount.
By the bar there was also karaoke, which was the source of most of the background noise. Most of the songs coming up and patrons were howling over were contemporary pop. As I passed by on a trip, I asked out of curiosity and it turned out they did indeed have folk music as well as military traditionals.
As I came back to the table Glitter was giggling at me. She was clearly joking when she asked if I was going to get up on stage. I said if she wanted me to, I would with no regrets. With a heavy laugh she again slapped me and said to stop flattering her. Well, watch this.
I walked up to the mic, the crowd dying down as I took hold and popped a couple bits into the machine. I looked over the options and found my mark, starting up about the only song I knew through, the folk traditional Korobeiniki. A bit embarrassingly the crowd loved it and joined in, though their heartfelt chanting still wasn't enough to cover my awful singing. Across the room, I saw Glitter in tears, laughing, with the biggest smile on her face that I'd seen.
After the song finished, I got a long round of cheers. Being a self-promoter, I took the opportunity to hype them up for this Friday's match between myself and Vice Grip with an impassioned promo. Setting the mic down to another raucous round of cheers, I walked back to Glitter who surprised me with a kiss. “How did I ever get so lucky to find a goofball like you?”
With her arms around my waist tight, I paid the tab and we left back to the heart of town. Before the end of next week, I should remember to make a Russian dinner for Glitter. As we walk past the Crystal Heart, I remarked on what a lovely date she took me on, then she said it wasn't over yet. Curious, I followed her and she took me to the arena, which had a crowd around. I asked if it was a play, and she handed me a ticket “Not quite.” It was a Canterlot University vs Crystal Empire College basketball game.
It wasn't too much a surprise to see Glitter cheering louder for Crystal Empire than I was for Canterlot, since I don't want to risk spoiling my goodwill here, but it was certainly a surprise to see her being the loudest in our section. She also has a huge mind for the game, calling over half of the plays before they even happened and a few times even before I could recognize them. I had always figured she was interested, but I didn't know she was a fanatic.
She felt bummed for me after the game because Crystal Empire won the shootout, upsetting Canterlot who was ranked 4th in the nation coming into today. I said it's just a game at the end of the day, and besides, I only just know the coach and his staff now. While it's nice to watch good basketball and cheer for the university I went to, I don't get that attached anymore. We had taken the long way back to enjoy the northern lights and put up at her place for the night.
Every day I become more attached to Glitter. Now I know for sure that if I ever do get married, it will be to her.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 24
Nine months ago I arrived at the Crystal Empire train station, nervous and apprehensive of working in a wholly new territory and in a brand new role. After nine months, I can say confidently that the Crystal Empire is more of a home for me than I've ever had in my life. Make no mistake, I'm proud of my heritage, but my life as it stands right now has never been better.
Since I first arrived, I have established myself as the top babyface in the territory, my feuds have sold out Iron Maiden’s Friday night cards for 26 consecutive weeks, and businesses has been booming so well that Headcrusher—the world champion—was able to leave for another tour of duty since we're no longer on life support up here.
But more important than anything else, I have no doubt in my mind that I have finally found the single true love of my life, and best of all she loves me just as much as I love her—maybe even more. Every day that passes, I find myself happier around her than the day before and our love seems to grow stronger.
My anger problems have also seemed to have finally subsided for perhaps the first time in my life that I can remember. Glitter's brothers and I have reached a truce and mutual respect for each others’ accomplishments, and they've invited me to be a guest PT instructor a few times for their recruit platoons. Those were fun because not only did I blow up some 35 to 40 high school “tough guys,” but I also saw two of the most dedicated drill sergeants in the royal guard struggling to keep up with me.
Sometimes I feel like Glitter's mother is trying to give me a college course for free, given how she likes to go over her lesson plans with me. She also says it's because I show more interest in the basic studies she teaches than over two thirds of her students. I've always said that the greatest accomplishment of my college was graduating with honors, only one of five student-athletes to do so that year.
Her father and sister, though great friends to me, occasionally wear on my nerves with prodding me about when I'm going to marry Glitter. Once in a while wouldn't be that bad, but it seems to be asked all the time, and they don't take “when we're ready” as an answer. Glitter says to not let it get to me, so I don't. She herself is also a bit tired of being “pressured” into getting married by them.
And yet…
As an old cliché (and stupid, sappy “power ballad”) goes, every rose has its thorns . I know that I could never leave Glitter again now that I've found her. This sounds all well and good you would think. Trouble is rolling in on the horizon because I've forgotten and neglected an old lady who I felt almost as close to as I feel now with Glitter. None other than Ponyville and Everfree’s own zebra amazon, Zecora.
While the zebra goddess and I are a world apart at the moment, I know that it's truly only a matter of time that our paths will cross again. She will likely expect things between us to pick up from where we left off over a year ago, but I can't do it now, I have Glitter. How would I tell her? How would she respond?
Glitter knows that she certainly isn't my first commitment or partner, just as I know I'm not hers. She's completely indifferent to what (she thinks) my history is, even though it does include many cute and/or handsome studs. That's rare, though pony society has made long leaps in acceptance of non-straight relations, there's still too often an unease among straight couples when one partner has had gay relations in the past.
It's troubling because it eats away at me. Glitter knows vaguely of Zecora, but I haven't been forthcoming in just how close I was with her. It seems to be a lingering fear that she would see my thoughts of Zecora as me longing for her and that Glitter would leave me for just thinking like this. But at the same time, it's a challenging dichotomy because I know that Glitter has absolutely no insecurities and for as much as thinking about Zecora troubles me, I have equally strong thoughts that Glitter would be completely indifferent about the thoughts because she knows that I really do truly love Glitter, and only Glitter.
These thoughts aren't perpetual. When Glitter and I are together, everyone in my past couldn't be any further from my mind. Whether I'm making her dinner, brushing her hair, or laying on the couch while she watches her soap operas, Glitter and how to make her happy are all I think about. It's times like these, when Glitter is away from home on business, that my past comes back to eat away at me.
As I sit out here on the patio of Glitter's house (I've recently moved of my apartment and in with her) I smell the creeping warmth in the air as the Northern Lights burn above, meaning that summer is not far away. Iron says that starting June, I'll have dropped the Crystal Championship so that I can work with Headcrusher when he returns. Before I do though, she'll give me a vacation as long as I want, as thanks for all my hard work and for near single-handedly turning her territory around. I plan to at least go back home to see Papa, as well as my Babushka and Dedushka, and to go to see Sister again.
Also the Conclave , the national body overseeing all the territories and determining the one world champion, has heard of how my work has rescued such a troubled promotion from the brink and in such a short and resounding fashion. Many of its voting members are highly impressed with me and Iron's agents and office staff are buzzing with rumors that Iron is going to propose for vote that I be made the world champion at the annual meeting.
I can't even comprehend what that would be like, becoming the first son of a world champion to also hold it himself. I also fear that I could get voted to be champion because that means I would have to leave my new home I have here in the Crystal Empire. Furthermore, would I take Glitter along with me on my travels at my own expense? Who would run her shop?
I'm getting much too far ahead of myself. If I did get it anytime in the next four years, I would be the youngest ever champion. I'm still comparatively very new to wrestling, and it takes a whole lot more than saving one territory "rife with wasted potential" (that's what I've heard many other promoters say about the Crystal Empire region) from the brink of folding to curry enough favor to get the needed two-thirds majority to get the World Heavyweight Championship. Then again, the thought is just too heavy, and tempting, to just brush aside. Mental masturbation I've heard this sort of thinking called. Just like actually getting yourself off, you don't accomplish much, but it can still be a peculiarly fun time.
Despite all my doubt and fear, I still hold onto the hope that this summer is going to be my finest hour yet.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 25
The spotlight always finds me around here. I've been winding down my wrestling schedule now that summer has come in preparation for my vacation, but I found my way into the headlines another way.
Late one evening, a night that it was actually dark, I went for a run. I pass by Glitter's shop as I always do, more out of it being along the road than of any real concern of robbery. Good thing I had though because as I pass by, my eyes get a flash of light from within. I stop to look inside and see a light on in a back room. Glitter always double- and triple-checks that all lights are off before leaving, so something definitely isn't right.
I walk slowly along the rear of the building and the back door was also cracked. This is definitely a burglary in progress. I poke my head inside, finding a silent alarm “panic button” that Glitter keeps by the door, and trip the silent alarm. Police will be on the way now if they weren't already. Walking deeper inside, I find most of Glitter's mannequins tossed about and some upcoming displays she had readied stripped away.
As I was about to enter the next room, I hear whispering and fawning about how this was such an “easy job”. I then hear myself knock down a mannequin that had been shoved in place haphazardly, followed by at least one of the thugs coming to check. Using darkness, I stand with the rest of them and pose like a mannequin.
I see the cyka walk in, flashlight in one hand and some sort of weapon in the other. He walks in front of me, his back to me. This is my best chance. I then step behind, quickly slap a choke with one hand and cover his mouth with the other. He blacks out in seconds. Through the door behind us opened, I can see his partner hadn't noticed.
I silently walk into the room, and with my focus locked on the other thief, his back also to me, I slam the door shut loudly, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. Wasting no time, I grab him with both hands and throw him clear across the room, breaking down the door I had just shut. When he tries to fumble for a weapon, I step on his hand, hearing a satisfying crackle of bones breaking. Getting his crowbar with his other hand, I then take hold of his leg and apply a kneebar.
No sooner do I hear a crack of his knee breaking, he lets out a loud scream just as police come in. His leg was broken at the knee, bent in a way other than what nature intended. They tried to say I was the one robbing the place and that they came to stop me. Police were skeptical enough, but reviewed video of the inside that only confirmed my story, including how both of them brandished a weapon against me.
It turns out that the pair were also responsible for a few other robberies in the city, so as far as their injuries, police said they saw nothing. They were taken to the hospital and then to jail, and Glitter and I spent a long night at the store, cleaning up their mess and resetting her mannequin displays.
The news outlets couldn't resist a story of the town's biggest wrestler foiling some infamous cat burglars, so that's been in the news for a while now. The great feeling didn't last long though. Later that week, tragedy struck me in the ring, for the first time ever.
Friday night show, another main event against Switchblade. He's definitely made progress and certainly has what it takes to be a villain with this crowd. He's at the point now where all he had to do is smile to get a rise out of everyone. The crowd gives me a deafening roar as I walk out to Grinder. Glancing around the venue as I walk down the aisle, I see the familiar sight of a packed house, our 30th consecutive sold-out show.
The match is for the title, so the belt is presented, the bell rings and we’re off. Like a fool, Switch decides to try and grapple at the start. I plant him face-down on the mat, throwing him around like a ragdoll. All goes well as I put on a mat clinic and him constantly scrambling for ropes to break the hold. After some time, I get a grin and start rubbing my hands together in anticipation. As Switch finally stands up, I snap my arms around his hips and quickly fling him overhead in a German Suplex, bridging for the first pin attempt and getting a quick two-count.
Switch slides out to get some space and a breather, I decide to have none of that and chase him out on the floor. After running him around once, he then grabs and throws me at the barricade. I expect the hit, offering my back to the metal to soften the blow, but apparently the guardrail wasn't secured right.
I got a satisfying crash noise out of the hit but with the barricade not secured as it should have been, it gave way and fell down. For an instant I can see the front few rows clear away as I go ass-over-tea-kettle, leaving bare seats for me to fall onto. Initially I don't feel anything out of place while I sell, my adrenaline going hard. Once I grab the rope to crawl in and beat a count-out is when I feel it, a sharp pain shooting through my shoulder and partially down my arm.
While Switch moves to continue his offensive, I grab and find I have no strength in the arm, my dominant right arm. This is going to make a finish difficult, since many of my methods require my right to do most of the work. I quickly say something is wrong with the right, and he's smart enough to work it over, while I try to think of an escape plan.
After several minutes and different arm locks, I finally have a plan. Just as it looks like I'm through and he's got a Full Nelson on me, I manage the strength to lift him up, use my left to pin his chin to my head and deliver a debilitating jawbreaker. As he stumbles from the shot, I throw him face first into the turnbuckles.
Him selling the turnbuckle blow and me in the opposite corner for a breath, I now channel Dedushka and size up Switch, approaching slowly. The moment I see the whites of his eyes, I lift him up under his shoulder, leap up, and deliver a side slam with all my might, what grandpapa called "rock bottom". It looked impressive too, the crowd roaring in delight.
Now because I know that I won't be facing him for a while, I have to find a way to put an exclamation point on this fight. No sooner than I think, it comes to me and I slowly get up and go to the corner again. As Switch writhes around, I'm obsessively tapping my boot on the bottom rope. Once he manages to get on all fours, I charge and deliver a punt right to the side of his skull, the crack echoing in the building before being drowned out by cheers as I fall on top for the cover.
One...
Two...
... Three!
With that I have successfully defended my title, making it to six months with the title. As I glance in the locker room mirror and see my right shoulder blown up, I know that six months is all I'm getting.
The trip to the hospital after the match confirms the injury, grade two shoulder separation, four weeks off minimum. My arm in a sling and virtually unusable for a month. I have almost no grip strength in my hand and even now struggle to write. I just have to figure out how to use my left for a while.
Iron Maiden suspected an injury when I'd come back after the fight, and told me I'd have however long I'd need to recover. I'd also get a full month's pay, and the month-long vacation we'd talked about. So with business wrapped up, I head back to Glitter to plan our first trip together.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 26: Stalliongrad... Home
Entry 26
The train ride was uneventful, which I suppose is good. Glitter spends a lot of the ride going between our room and the observation deck and lounge. She first wondered why I didn't so much, but then remembered that I already have a hard time moving around on the narrow train, my shoulder sling only making it worse. It's already inconvenient enough for her since my right side is where she likes to put her head.
Due to delays at a few stations, the train arrived in Stalliongrad in the evening. Home. I haven't been here since I graduated Papa’s school. The train station has improved, now the platforms have an awning over the top, so during the storms you at least will stay dry. As the breeze blows down the platform, Glitter carries a few of our bags. I insisted that I should but she won out because I'm hurt.
As we walk from the baggage claim with the rest of our stuff, I see a very familiar, old face with silver hair. Babushka squeals my name loudly as she sees us, almost throwing herself at me. “You make me wait five years to see your handsome face again? What kind of grandson does that?”
I've been busy. I'm so popular that they don't want to give me much time off. Besides, I brought a friend.
“Oh, you did,” she then sees Glitter and introduces herself in Russian. Before I could say that Glitter didn't know the language, I was proved wrong. I've known her for about a year and she still finds ways to surprise me. Babushka remarks that I still make some good decisions, finding such a beautiful lady who speaks the language.
On the way to her place I ask about Dedushka, and why he didn't come.
“Someone has to crack the whip down at the distillery.”
Still working like he's my age?
“You know his old saying, Kovie, ‘The day you stop working is they day you start dying.’”
A little sheepish, I only ask her to please not call me that. Glitter giggles and calls me by it again.
As we arrive at their villa, I can see not much has changed. Large billows of steam come from the distillery furnaces behind. As soon as we get in, Babushka leads us to her kitchen. I say that we've eaten on the train, but she counters that we all know they don't serve real food on the trains.
How I've missed my grandmother's cooking. Maybe it's just the feeling of home but in their kitchen it always tastes just that little bit better than everywhere else. Shchi, vinegret, pelmini, hot sauerkraut, and pirozhki. We could have as much as we wanted.
It was not just Glitter and I eating. As I mentioned before, grandmother runs a completely open kitchen, no questions asked. There were many homeless and indigent who had come to eat, some who had brought the whole family, and some of their distillery’s live-in workers. Maybe it shouldn't surprise me, but some of them knew who I was, and I even took time to meet with the kids around.
I've always seemed to get along better with kids than with adults. I posed with a few for photos, signed a few things they offered, including one boy’s forehead, and arm wrestled with a few. I even managed to win with six of them against my one arm. Glitter also was in the spirit, doing some of the little girls’ hair and later doing face painting which even some boys to joined in on.
Almost nobody really wants to live here. The weather is harsh and changes wildly from day to day, the governorship has always been horribly corrupt, the law enforcement equally corrupt and oppressive, and the wealth disparity rivals that of dystopian fiction. The few “haves” here live in lavish luxury, while the vast majority are “have nots” and doomed to poverty, unless their child becomes famous.
Babushka and Dedushka even didn't want to live here. I once asked Babushka about why she does anyway and she says because it's a moral obligation. She could never sleep at night knowing she has so much to give to her home, and not doing so. This is why her kitchen is always open to anyone who walks through the door, at almost any hour of the day, and without any questions. No one should ever go hungry, and with her open kitchen, nobody has to.
Dedushka keeps his distillery here because the great potatoes make for even better vodka, but also because the sheer size of the distillery provides work for so many. Their large property, which is constantly getting larger, also has large dormitories for those without a home to stay while they work. While in, let's say, Canterlot many businesses would hide that they hire convicts, addicts, or indigent, Dedushka takes great pride about it and curses those who sneer at him for it. He believes that everyone deserves another chance.
Speaking of grandpapa, shortly after Glitter and I got situated in the guest room, he came to greet us. His first question was “Who messed up your shoulder, and where can I find him?” I told him it was my own fault. Though I am taller than him, it's not by much, and his hands are almost as large as mine. He invites us to his lounge, offering us drinks.
Although I know he reads wrestling newsletters to keep up on me, as well as the business he left behind, he lets me recap all I've done in my time in the Crystal Empire. Glitter also introduces herself and talks about her and her family. When she mentions that she's a jeweler, Dedushka goes into a bit of panic.
“That's risky, Kovanaya. I guess Spravedlivost doesn't know yet?”
No, Glitter hasn't met Sister but I had planned on it.
“You probably should introduce them. Your sister seems show you much more mercy than others.”
I suppose I could, but I'm not that worried by Sister. Glitter is just as strong and doesn't need me to fight for her.
“Don't be so sure. You and I both know how volatile she is…”
Sister is volatile, but she's not irrational.
And this thought bothers me all night long. I say she's not irrational, but when she's angry you can certainly see we are related. My sister, Spradlivost, has a legendary temper, which I've hinted at earlier, but those weren't even the tip of the iceberg. Her rage gives even me pause.
Glitter doesn't seem that worried about Sister but I've heard Sister air her utter hate for jewelers and gem farmers in the past. Those times it was in relation to her work, but to Sister on duty and off duty are all one and the same. When she met Cynder, Sister flipped her lid and only I stopped them from coming to blows. I only hope that she can at least be respectful towards Glitter, or at least not outright hostile.
Making matters worse is that her and Rusty are coming to visit this week. She had heard from Babushka that I was going on a vacation back home, and she wanted to save me a long train ride back south. My best hope is that if she loses her head, our grandparents being around will keep her from completely blowing up.
Glitter asleep on my shoulder as I write this does help me not worry too much about it. I suppose I should join her. I just wish that someday I can be as happy and carefree as Glitter Jewel.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 27
The morning begins pleasant enough, Glitter and I have breakfast and do some more socializing with the families who had come to eat as well. Some of the girls ask Glitter to do their hair, and she's happy to help. A few boys had also brought stuff of me to autograph, so I couldn't say no. Being hurt is so bothersome because the kids wanted to wrestle, but I can't for at least another month.
Having nothing to do yet, Glitter and I decide to facilitate the open dining while Babushka goes to meet Sister and Rusty at the train station. Some would pass but I don't, it's the least I can do, especially considering that my family is hosting us. I've heard that my desire to give back sometimes makes me a bad guest, but anyone who thinks that way couldn't be more wrong.
When Sister arrives, nothing is said at first so she and Rusty can go get situated. A short time later Glitter wants to go meet them, so I go with her. Here's where it starts.
As I feared, Sister knew who Glitter was and what she did. Rusty was happy to see us and meet Glitter, but Sister completely ignored us. I shouldn't have to explain how juvenile this is, even Rusty is rolling her eyes. I decide to let it go, thinking she'll get over herself.
It doesn't take long for my patience to wear thin. She continues her silent treatment, talking to Rusty or whoever else instead of directly to me or Glitter. Babushka sees what is happening and scolds her to knock it off already. Sister only replies she has no idea what she's talking about. This is where I draw the line. Once sister walks outside for a moment, I immediately pursue, intent on correcting whatever stick is lodged up her ass.
Jerking her by the shoulder I immediately ask what got into her. She instinctively throws a slap that I cut off, trying with her other hand, I pinch my hands around her wrists tightly, causing her to snarl “What's gotten into you ?”
You're being unreasonable, you don't know shit about Glitter Jewel and you're being a cunt towards her.
“I'm unreasonable,” I clearly see she's about to snap, “When you're in love with the greatest scum of the world, a slave driver… A jeweler?”
Something comes over me and I slam her back to the wall, pinning her by the shoulder with one hand and my fist cocked and aimed with the other, not feeling what certainly is a sharp pain throughout my right arm. Say it again, I dare you.
I have never before, even at my angriest, threatened my sister, let alone put hands on her. Immediately I see her anger turns into pure fear of me, her eyes filling with tears. Inexplicably, I push her tighter against the wall and growl that I'm not falling for waterworks.
“Please don't Kovanaya,” her voice cracking and wavering as her tears hit my outstretched arm, “I'm so sorry, I'm out of line… Please…”
I let go and she crumbles to the ground, sobbing. You are going to talk to Glitter and be nice. If you have but one cross word, I won't hold back a second time. I then storm off into the forests just beyond the property line, leaving Sister in a messy, sobbing heap.
As I smell the breeze rolling down the mountain and the trees, it then dawns on me what I just did. Letting out a frustrated roar, I let loose with a kick to a tree, which dents heavily at my strike and drops a shower of needles. I walk deeper into the mountainside forest, my own tears starting to form.
I sit in the corner and stretch out. The place seems more cramped than I remember, but that only makes sense for how long it's been. So many memories, in fact this was the place where I'd first kissed another stallion. It was on a dare by Sister, the boy was cute, and I wanted to shut her up.
This then drags me back to the present. I hurt Sister. I hurt her not just emotionally, I hurt her physically, and I don't know which is worse. I only sought to stop her from being so childish, but I went too far to even dream about putting hands on her, let alone actually doing it. I see that look in her eyes again when I had her pinned. She saw mother, she was terrified. I caused my sister, my greatest friend in my life, to suffer a trauma flashback.
I now sit in a heap of my own, also letting the tears roam free. What has become of me? How could I become so defensive? Worst of all, if I could do this to Sister, what stops me from committing such an atrocity to Glitter. I'm a wreck, a mess, a horrible pony. I don't know how long I sit in here.
With a creak of the door opening, Sister walks in and sits beside me. I'm a monster, I had no right to treat you like that, and I don't deserve you.
“Shush. You're by far the most patient, forgiving, and friendly pony in this world, and I have no reason to treat and manipulate you like I do.”
I only sit in silence, still too cowardly to look at her.
“Glitter Jewel is probably the only one who comes close to you for being nice. I'm sorry I insulted you so deeply. You're exactly right that I have no reason to treat her like I did. I'm just being prejudiced.”
This doesn't excuse or justify me threatening you, let alone assaulting you the way I did. I could see it in your eyes, I'd become her . I caused you to relive all that. You have every right to never speak to me again.
I feel her kiss my cheek, “And yet, here I am.”
I sit silently again, still not looking over at her yet.
“You've said that for most of your life, I was your only friend. You know full well that the same is true for me. I love you too much to let one bad day ruin 21 years of beautiful friendship between us, Kovanaya.”
I can only nod, my tears still not holding back as her arms come across my shoulders.
“We've said for a long time that we need to look out for each other…”
But the thing is, we don't anymore…
“Exactly. We're not two young children left to fend for ourselves in this world. We're adults now, and we've both met the two most beautiful ponies in the world in Rusty for myself and Glitter for you.”
Even if we do make indiscretions, that's what they're there for, to keep us on the right track.
“Exactly, big brother. I'm wrong to have micromanaged your life for so long after we left home.”
And I'm wrong to be so zealous to stand up for you.
“I'm so sorry, big brother. Glitter's a lovely girl, I'm glad you have her, and almost jealous that I don't.”
My left arm snakes around her and squeezes Sister to my chest with a squeak from her. I'm sorry I threatened you so bitterly, even though just saying sorry doesn't fix it all.
She nods, kissing my cheek again.
We sit in the otherwise empty makeshift house for quite some time. Eventually she speaks up again. “What happened to your shoulder, and whose shoulder do I have to go break?”
It was a freak accident, I went to be whipped into a crowd barricade, but it fell out from under me. I must have caught it on a chair. How did you ever find this place, or know I'd be here?
“Did you forget how we used to spend entire days here?”
Oh… I suppose I did.
“You're so silly sometimes, Kovie. Come on, it's probably dinner time at Babushka’s.”
Stop calling me that.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 28
I certainly paid a price for my anger, when I woke this morning my shoulder hurt almost as bad as when I first separated it. I down some pain relievers, slide it carefully in a tight sling and go about a simple cardio-only exercise. As I start out the door, I was joined—to my surprise—by Rusty. I tell her that I go hard and I won't tone it back just because she's with me, Rusty responds that she wouldn't want it any other way.
As we start along with a quick walk and working into a run, I ask her why me, and why now? Rusty responds that she's been dying to get to know the stallion who will be her brother-in-law better. This nearly causes me to fall over. You mean that you're engaged?
“Well yeah.”
Wouldn't sister have a fit knowing that you told me instead of her?
“Keep moving,” she starts off again and I'm quick to catch up, “And no, we talked about it before and she said as long as you know, that's what's important.”
I take her hand momentarily, looking it over and finding it bare.
“You know her better than I do, do you really think she'd be the type to get a ring?”
I quickly remembered our blow out the other day. Oh, right…
“Believe me, I wanted one, at least to give to her, but she adamantly refused. She says our words are enough.”
That certainly sounds like Sister. As we go about, Rusty has a lot more fitness than I gave her credit for, she made it look easy keeping up with me. As we went about the run up the mountains and through their forest, I got to learn a little of her story.
Rusty grew up in Canterlot, her father is a fashion mogul and her mother a real estate agent. For as long as she can remember, she was always a “tomboy”. She loved contact sports, wearing “boy” clothes, and always had a huge skill for wrenching around. Rusty said one weekend as a challenge, while her parents went on vacation, she did a full tear-down and rebuild of her dad’s exotic supercar and they never found out.
She describes her parents as being stuffy, old fashioned, and uptight. That said, their dislike of her and Sister being together isn't any old prejudices but because of who Sister is. I don't doubt it, Sister has almost always rubbed older generations the wrong way. Despite their lack of warmth for my sister, they'd apparently rather spend their time harping about how Rusty could be designing or building cars, not fixing them.
Rusty did go to college for a short time and try automotive engineering, but she only stayed long enough to know she'd never be “any manner of a bean counter, let alone a STEM geek.” Her pleasure has always been wrenching around and tinkering. If she does “build” a car, it would be a restored classic or a custom rod. One thing she likes about Appleoosa is all the hicks buy cheap mods for their oversized trucks, it predictably breaks, and leaves her with a steady job.
Of course, the inevitable question comes about why I don't have a car. I quite simply never had a need for one, I don't know how to drive, and it's just too expensive. That's saying nothing about how neurotic all these commuter drivers are, constantly almost hitting me when it's nearly impossible to not see me, and the all too common bouts of road rage I always see everywhere. If that's what driving does, with my anger problems, the world is much better off with me not driving.
As we stop for a moment near the top of the short mountain in the range, Rusty pulls my shirt up briefly “Oh wow, she wasn't kidding. Looks even more gnarly than she described.” Pulling my shirt down and giving her a swat on the hand, I ask why she couldn't just ask me about the scar like a normal, well-adjusted pony. Rusty says because I'd have told her to mind her own business.
Well, she's not wrong. I would have.
“So are you going to tell me about it or am I going to torture it out of you?”
His name is Stormbrekker. He had all the physical gifts that any wrestler would kill for, plus a genuine pedigree for instant credibility and heat, no matter where he would have worked. A large and muscle-bound dragon, even for his tribe, which was known for some pretty fearsome dragons. He was born of the warrior caste there, knowing how to fight from the time he could walk on his own.
All the gifts and pedigree he had, he found how to make it all worthless. Calling this prick a headcase prima donna would be a compliment. He was born to his tribe’s top warrior and he never spared any opportunity to remind everyone of that. Worse, he was also prejudiced against anyone who wasn't a dragon, considering them inferior races unfit to even oil his scales. Furthermore, his self-obsession extended to his own tribe. He had been a distinguished warrior in his own right, second to only his father.
This wasn't good enough for him, after some 30 years of being under his father's shadow, he began to take steroids. Drug abuse only made his attitude further deteriorate to where he would lash out at his servants with no provocation. His tribe and father decided enough was enough when one of these bouts of rage caused the death of Stormbrekker’s apprentice. Instead of accepting his punishment with penance, he called his father out in a fight over leadership. He was roundly defeated, humiliated, and exiled from the tribe, and that’s how he ended up in Stalliongrad.
I know his story because I was around Papa when the dragon tried to get into Papa’s wrestling school. All the trainers and even the wrestlers felt it was a bad idea, but Papa wanted to at least give him a second chance at life. Unfortunately for us, he only picked right up where he left off, feeling he was above us “inferior” ponies. He would only half-listen to Papa and Gryphus, the two trainers. It all came to a head sooner rather than later.
Gryphus’ nephew had enough of this dragon’s attitude and called him out. It was before the day’s session, and myself and Sister were there, as the wrestling school had the only gym in our part of the city. I remember I had just finished my warm-up when I heard the fight break out, followed by the booming voices of Papa and Gryphus practically shaking the walls. Fortunately Grendel, Gryphus’ nephew, only had a minor claw wound but that was the last straw for Papa, who kicked the dragon out.
Sister, as you know she can’t hold her tongue, was sitting nearby the ring and remarked “Wow, what a prick.” I poke my head out of the weight room I was in just in time to hear Sister’s remark, and Stormbrekker’s rebuttal. His eyes are full of wrath as he glared right down at Sister and hissed, “When I come back, you’re going to be my sex slave.” We’re all well aware that there are things you do not say about my family, especially my sister, doubly so when I’m able to hear it.
I don’t know what came over me, but when I step out of the weight room and slam its door behind me, I went deaf. I could not hear Papa telling me to let it go. Other wrestlers who see what was developing try to physically hold me back, but I push and shake them off one by one. Stormbrekker glared at me in the doorway and says he’ll dismember me in front of the whole city, punctuating the statement by swiping my face with his claws. Feeling the hot blood drift down my face, I immediately step outside the building and with one swing of my fist, I strike one of his horns so hard it cracked, causing his shout of pain to echo through the streets. The fight was on.
As I get into a ready stance, he spear hit me, his horns gouging my abdomen, and knocking me against the wall. I use both my hands to lock his up and prevent him from goring my face with his claws, but his warrior instincts allow him to ascend the wall and his right hind leg digs its claws into my right shoulder. As he takes a downward swipe with this leg, I feel it cut down to the bone and even snapping ribs as he cuts across my chest.
I use my other hand to grab hold of his right hand and bend it backwards, his hinds slipping off the walls and him backing into the streets. He drops to his knees as I continue bending the arm, dead set on breaking it in the most gruesome way possible. As I succeed, his blood-curdling roar once again echoes down the road, a crowd having now gathered. I begin to take control of the fight, using my amateur wrestling abilities to lift him clear overhead and slam him face-first into the asphalt. The blow having momentarily stunned him, I use his horns to press his face down and deliver repeated knee blows to his skull, having no desire to stop until he stops moving.
A police constable pulls me off momentarily before himself being pulled away by other constables, allowing the dragon a chance to again gain the upper hand. I assume a high guard but this was a fight for blood, my guard only being met by his teeth biting my thigh. I jam my thumb through his eye with all the force I could muster, weakening the bite. Wasting no time, I took my opportunity to push my shin against his throat, pulling his neck down against my leg. At first he thrashes around, his struggling managing to swipe my face several times, but I’m long since possessed, my air choke only getting stronger with each passing second.
I finally hear him wheeze and see his struggling weakening. His own blood soon runs over his teeth and down my leg. He can only faintly gasp that he can’t breathe, and to please let him go. I roar loudly enough that the crowd takes a step back to say it again so they can hear him. With a final rush of energy from him, he beseeches loudly “Please have mercy on me!”
Once he said those words, his body went limp. I release the hold, crawl away from his body, and before I can stand up, black out. The both of us were covered in blood, and blood loss is believed to be why I went unconscious. I only awoke late that night in a hospital, both Papa and Sister bedside, their eyes swollen and red with tears. No words were spoken.
It was a week before I was released. Even then I could barely walk under my own power. I had suffered seven broken ribs, a cracked sternum, ruptured stomach, compound fracture in the shoulder, muscle torn completely off the shoulder. In addition, I needed some 270 stitches and 42 staples to close all the wounds.
I had done something that no other pony in history ever had, defeated a dragon in a fight by making said dragon beg for mercy. I noticed my “prize” two weeks later when I had the bulk of my bandages removed. As I had stripped in anticipation of a bath, I once again saw the scars and marks, suffering a panic attack and flashback to the fight. I sat, hunched over the sink for several minutes crying.
Finally I had seen on my hip a mark, a set of shackles. I hobbled over to the bath, sinking into the water. I don’t know how long I sat in the water, staring off into space. However long it was, it was long enough that the silence was finally broken by Papa bursting through the door, scared that I’d drowned. As he helped me out, it finally all dawned on me. I was born to wrestle, whether it be professional “show” wrestling, or amateur “real’ wrestling. The mark was indicative that my grasp is inescapable, the only reason anyone would get free of my grasp was because I let them.
That’s my special talent, wrestling. The mark I bear on my hips, and the dragon’s scars on my chest are proof of it.
As for what became of Stormbrekker, he was charged with attempted murder in a corrupt Stalliongrad justice system that is openly prejudiced against any non-pony races. He suffered a compound fracture of the arm, skull fractures, a broken horn, and a crushed trachea. To cap it all off, he’s serving a lifetime sentence in a gulag. Unlike Equestrian prisons, in Stalliongrad you are sentenced to hard labor. I’ve heard stories of wrestlers who’ve been in these horror camps; backbreaking, chattel slavery labor from the minute you step out off the bus until you are forcibly pulled from the yard for your release.
He still got no mercy. Mercy would have been his death, as he has almost certainly relized long ago.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 29
Some time later, we finish exercising. I realize that mine and Glitter’s anniversary is coming up. I can hardly believe it’s been a whole year with this amazing mare. Moreover, I can hardly believe that I haven’t driven her crazy with what a head case I am.
We’ve been staying with my grandparents, Glitter got to meet Sister and Rusty, but now I suppose it’s time she meets Papa. After a shower and Glitter helping my arm back into a sling, we set off towards Papa’s gym and wrestling school. As we walk inside through the open roll-up door, I can practically hear my entrance music playing in my head and instinctively go into my entrance posture while Glitter sits at the seats off to the side.
Apparently they were doing interview work, and as usual Papa isn't even looking. He always brings a newspaper to read while the students do interviews because he says he wants to hear you, not see you. I take hold of the microphone in place of the student who had first stepped in to give an interview. I know the prompt, who you are and your favorite wrestler. I can see Gryphus smiling and keeping quiet as I begin.
“Kovanaya Gorneyyevich Stal is my name,” my voice projects through the gym, “and you will remember it. If you have any doubts, give us five minutes alone and I will quell them.”
Papa looks up from his newspaper with a grin as I go down my resumé, “I'm a seven-time national champion in the heavyweight division and a two-time gold medalist in the same. Rest assured, breaking any one of you will be like snapping a twig for me.”
“My favorite wrestler when I grew up was the legendary, infamous Gryphus The Terrible,” I see the old griffon in attendance smile as he's mentioned, “because he would dismember any opponent with the greatest of ease, just as I will do to any of you. Try me, if you dare.”
I set the microphone down with the whole room erupting into applause. Gryphus tells them that's how you do it, and then introduces me to the students. One student in the back of the group I can see is rolling his eyes, disinterested. I say nothing and decide to observe what he does.
As I sit with Glitter and listen to the many students give their best attempts, I join in at giving them critique. The most common problem I observe is their lack of confidence in their words, and the only real fix for that is repetition. The more you speak in front of a crowd, the less nervous you are about doing it. Also they try to do too much and clearly aren't true to themselves. I have to tell them to keep it simple and to not be me because they aren't me.
The trainee who seemed to roll his eyes at my introduction then steps up, Papa nudges me to pay attention to him. As he starts, I can hear that he's got a gift for talk, so I decide to pressure student a bit by glaring at him. His monologue is unwavering and he's practically glaring back at me, finishing up. The class applauds his effort, and continues along going from trainee to trainee working on interviews.
A few hours later, the class adjourns for lunch, allowing me a chance to introduce Glitter to Papa and Gryphus. Wrestling has been almost their whole lives. Papa was an amateur champion much like myself but had a much younger start. Gryphus found he was a natural at it when he got into a fight at seven and managed to get a griffon twice his age screech for mercy.
His and Papa's rivalry was unparalleled, almost everywhere they went a match involving them was a guaranteed sell out, enough to where they often got booked in struggling territories. Papa managed to get be champion for a couple of years, but says that Gryphus was twice the talent he ever was.
Gryphus could have been champion if he had been a little better behaved. He owns up to his past, saying that he often sought out starting fights with fans, using it as a way to fight back against the discrimination that griffons often receive. At the same time, his anger and chip on his shoulder is probably what made him such a hated, effective villain.
Like Gryphus, wrestling was in Papa's blood. Dedushka was a barnstorming pony who competed in various strength contests and wrestling. By the time Papa had come into adulthood, wrestling had become an organized event, not just a carnival sideshow. Like me, Papa was a high school and college champion, setting a few records that I later broke.
Gryphus could have been champion, but Papa was champion. He held the prestigious World Heavyweight Championship for two years. He says it was one of the greatest times of his life, traveling the entire world to fill large venues of many sizes performing his craft. However, Papa had to lose it because he suffered a broken leg, compound fracture.
He first came back well, but the medical care here was quite poor, it still is today. Getting a second opinion in Canterlot, he got a final operation that would allow him to walk again and do most brisk exercises, but not wrestle competitively again. This is why he runs a wrestling school, so that he can pass his life of knowledge about the craft to other young ponies.
Glitter talks about herself, Papa remarking that she shows as much passion about jewelry that I do for wrestling. She also mentions that I was the first one to knock her brothers down a peg, causing Papa to roll his eyes but Gryphus to wear a smirk. Glitter then talks about how I and my feuds have almost single-handedly turned around the Crystal Empire territory. I had expected them to treat such a claim as hyperbole, but they really seem to believe it, even despite my downplaying it.
Once lunch is concluded, class resumes with the focal point being selling. The students pair up and have abbreviated matches, the focus being to see how credibly they can sell. Selling is crucial to the art, without it you don't have wrestling, only either low-level acrobatics or legitimate fighting. The one student who had a natural talent for talking seemed to not be putting any effort into selling, his body language making it look like he was above this.
I mention it to Gryphus, and he remarks that his attitude has been toxic. This trainee, his name is Iron Pumper, has amazing gifts that anyone else in the class would kill for, but he's squandering it all with his poor attitude. They've tried to get him to cooperate better by trying to bargain. As I watch, I notice that most of the selling I'm seeing from other students is either not enough or is exaggerated. Feeling the gears turn in my head, I ask Gryphus if I could have a “match” with the cocky one. I think he sees what I have in store, allowing it just before adorning the class to an exercise.
“Okay class, you're in for a treat today,” Gryphus says, as I walk to the ring “Everyone but Iron Pumper out, Forged Steel wants to contribute to today's lesson.” I step inside, sizing up the recruit as I approach. Iron is clearly oblivious as he charges for my arm in the sling. I raise my knee up into his gut sharply, slapping him on the back for a dramatic sound and stunning him.
With him momentarily winded, I use my good arm to take hold of his hand and twist, barring the arm. I make sure to wrench it deep, causing him to howl in pain. I turn him so the whole class can see his face and reaction “That right there, you make that face with no pain, that's selling. You're a natural at this, Iron.”
“You're breaking my arm!”
“Psh, I'm hardly twisting at all. That's another thing, class. Realistic vocalizing can sometimes help with effect.”
I secretly clamp my thumb into his wrist's pressure point, then kick the back of his knee stiffly to push him onto the mat. Seamlessly transitioning into a hammerlock, I again take liberty to wrench hard, causing Iron to yelp loudly again. “Remember, the idea is to make it look like what they're doing to you is murder.”
“My arm,” Iron loudly cries, “You're going to break it.”
I taunt back “You're selling real well, kid.”
“I'm not selling!”
“That's another thing,” as I ignore him and wrench the hammerlock further, “Don't be afraid to taunt your opponent if you're heel, can go a long way to getting hot.”
By this point, he now rapidly pounds his other arm on the canvas, begging for mercy. Papa dismisses the class for a workout, while my knee in Iron's back keeps him from getting up. With the rest of the students gone, I let him up and glare at him.
I say he has incredible gifts that hundreds of wrestlers would do anything to have, but an attitude that nullifies it. Arrogance and thinking everyone is beneath you is a good mentality for inside the ring, but outside of it that attitude will keep you from every working anywhere. Moreover, you will never no-sell anyone without their permission. If you no-sell the wrong guy, he won't stuff you in the ring like I did, he'll jump you in the parking lot and put one between your eyes.
He starts to speak, but I cut him off. That's another thing, you're learning. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes and ears open. When you stepped into this ring, you agreed that your past wrestling accomplishments, if any, mean nothing. From now on, you will sell for your opponents, be they a veteran like myself or another trainee in your class. The instructors don't want to expel you and keep your tuition, but if you continue to be a problem, they won't hesitate to. He only nods in acknowledgement, and is dismissed to join the rest of the class in workout.
As I sit back down beside Glitter, I can read that she doesn't agree with my methods, but that it's ultimately for the best. Gryphus says with some admiration that he wishes he could be as much a hard-ass as me. I remind him that I went through his class, what I did was child's play.
Once class resumes, Iron starts selling realistically for everyone he is in the ring with. I think he got the message. Some may think my methods extreme, but it's ultimately for better. Wrestling is cutthroat, saying or doing the wrong thing to the wrong pony can and has gotten wrestlers killed. It's despicable and wrong in every way, but it still happens. If I can prevent even one instance of that, I consider it worthwhile.
Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal
Entry 16
My day begins like any other, the great sunrise waking me and giving a great view of the eastern mountains. I do my long workout and run, seeing more of this town with each day, and even some wrestling fans recognizing me. As I return back to my suite, I pass by the jewelry shop once again, and I see its proprietor arriving for the day.
Her body is a light powder purple, her wings having amazing frosted tips, her hair a light baby blue and snow white. She wore a tiara that nearly blinded me when she looked my way as I passed, not allowing me to see her eyes. Since I had already resolved to browse her shop anyway, I wasn’t bothered. The way she watched me as she passed almost seemed like she knew who I was. That could at least help conversation later.
After a large breakfast, I had a shower in preparation. Realizing it was still early morning, I decided to pass the time watching some old wrestling videos. Apparently I dozed off because when I was able to look at the clock again it was already noon and I was still in just the towel from my shower.
As I go through my dresser for what to wear, I find a good conversation starter, papa’s watch with a dead battery. After finding my wardrobe for today I elect to leave out the braid, the first time in several months I have while going out.
A short walk down the road and I find her store. Walking inside, she greets me almost immediately. She seemed quite in awe from my size but I've become used to it at this point in life. The dress she wore left much of her to the imagination.
I seek getting the battery changed on the watch and she's happy to oblige. I show her the watch and her eyes, a dazzling combination of icy blue and lavender, light up. “This is a world heavyweight champion's watch, I've only worked on one before,” her expression then soured, “Headcrusher. He's a real prick.”
I nod in agreement, after all I have to keep up appearances. “How in the name of the goddesses did you get this?” That's the question I was hoping to not be asked. Lying won't do any good, so I tell the truth, it's papa’s and he gave it to me as a keepsake. For an instant I see a follow-up question from her but it doesn't come. She only nods and begins work on opening it.
I mention I'm also looking for a watch of my own, as I didn't want to risk danger to such a sentimental item. After changing out the battery she hands it back and walks me over to the watch cabinet. “I assume you want it as an accessory since any cheap piece of garbage from the department store can tell time.” She pulls out about a dozen large faced ones, “On most stallions these would be comically large, but on someone with your imposing stature they'll fit right in.”
Many different materials from stainless steel to titanium, and even a couple of carbon fiber. “A bit of warning, the atomic watches frequently go out of sync here because we're so remote. If the time does matter that much, I'd suggest staying with a quartz.” As I look over my options, both on top of the display and within, a simplistic one catches my eye, even with its thousand bit price. I ask to try it.
“Citizen Chronomaster A660, titanium body with sapphire anti glare glass, also the most accurate quartz in the world.” I slip it on and it just feels like me. “Excellent choice, seems you like the more low-key appearances.” That I do, but this wasn't all that I came for.
When I ask she first laughs, but when she finds that I'm serious she says she's very busy, but would be fine meeting later at a downtown restaurant for dinner. So I have a date. Hopefully I won't be too recognized, distractions like fans can kill a mood. They really ruined a date I had with Rarity. The sneers from fans became too much for her.
The days seems to fly by and I meet her at the diner she mentioned. Of course, I overdress like a blockhead with the dress pants and collared shirt and tie my hair back. “Oh boy” she greeted with a laugh, “First date and you’re already dressed for marriage.” I didn’t know what to wear, so I stuck with what I normally wear.
Her name is Glitter Jewel. She was born and raised in the Crystal Empire, and has oddly never left even once. She majored in business administration, but has never really left school as she keeps herself occupied with taking more and more classes here and there. Whenever there’s something she doesn’t know about, she takes a class on it. She has her business master’s, a bachelor’s in accountancy, and is working on a second in marketing. She jokes that she alone contributes half the college’s annual revenue.
Her mother teaches at the college and her father is an orthopedist. The youngest of five, her brothers all went into the Royal Guard while her sister went into modeling. She had a peculiar brevity when mentioning what kind of modeling. Glitter always had a love for gemstones and minerals and even seriously considered becoming a geologist. In the end she became a jeweler because there’s more money in it. Not to say she doesn’t enjoy it.
Her knowledge of gems and jewelry surpasses my knowledge of wrestling. Most of it went over my head as she explained, all the types, the many kinds of flaws, how to cut out flaws without damaging the rest of the stone, how to tell natural from synthetic… Apparently she went at this for 10 minutes before she noticed I was lost at sea.
“So, tell me about you.” Oh great, where do I begin? Do I tell everything honest and chronological, or skip out the bad parts? Does she want to know everything about the past, or just more generally about me? If I omit any of the bad parts will she see right through me? I’m not saying anything yet, I’m blowing it. Something! Anything!
“Can I get back to you on that?” is all I can muster. Heavenly Sisters in Canterlot I’m a dipshit now. What’s worse is that now she’s laughing, and wildly. Is she laughing at me? Why is my brain so cooked from just one mare when I can monologue for several minutes in front of 20,000?
After a what feels like minutes of laughter she regroups and says “Oh wow, that bad?” She then pats me on the head “Tell you what, you big goof, just start with you right now, where you’re from, what you do, your college, and what brings you out here.”
Well, I'm a wrestler from Stalliongrad competing out here, went to university at Canterlot and have a degree in nutrition as well as physical therapy. I picked them because I have a gift that I want to share with the world. Most would laugh at that but it's the truth. I put my best efforts into educational because any fool can become a wrestler but less than one percent will ever get anywhere with it.
She wants to know more about me and wrestling. For as long as I can remember I've always wanted to wrestle. I'm such a great athlete that I was also good at basketball, but wrestling was always my biggest passion and what I always put my best effort into. Perhaps it is because papa was so good and doing it all the time.
I go into the differences between scholastic wrestling and pro wrestling, how scoring works in the former and shy we don't do it in the latter, but at the same time I keep careful to not expose it. She does seem to be interested in it and the technical details don't go over her head.
Despite her initial insistence not to, I pay for both of us. As we pass by her shop and my apartment building again, I point it out as where I'm living. She seems impressed, saying I have good taste and that I'm luckily as she's been on their wait list for years now.
We're the only ones out here not wearing coats now. She asks if I should be cold and I say I should ask her the same thing. She responds that she's lived here her whole life. I say that it feels just like home, only without the blizzard.
Eventually we get to her place, a small, unassuming duplex a mile away. I walk her to the door and she thanks me for the dinner and socializing. I ask when we can go again.
She gives another laugh and smile, then hops up to kiss my cheek, with a “Tomorrow night. Come get me from here.” With that, she goes inside and I back to my place for my evening workout. Obviously I can only reflect on the evening.
I've never felt like this around anyone before. I've never been so frazzled and at the same time so relaxed. And more oddly, I made a total fool of myself and she didn't seem to care at all. It seems she just wanted the honesty.
To be quite honest, with everyone who has beauty like hers I'm filled with a lust and desire to worship their body but I didn't feel that even for a moment with Glitter Jewel. That's obviously not to say that I wouldn't, but that itch, that sensation never came into my head. Could this be what love truly feels like?
