White Walls

Baron knew he was a failure at wrestling. Just because a man is big and strong does not mean that he can get into a sport and expect to be called a professional. Now, some guys were talented enough to do such a thing. However, Baron wasn’t one of them. He spent a lot of his time training at Jack Burton’s place but it wasn’t paying off as fast as a young man would like. Another thing that bothered him was his inability to beat Dwight Couch. The man had somehow gotten under Baron’s skin. He knew this was a result from competition. But it was easier to forget about someone in football because there was always another team to play.

Speaking of football, his coach wasn’t too happy to hear about Baron’s whereabouts. He had kept in contact with him over the months, letting him know that the university was okay with Vendredi going off and doing things on his own but heavily reminded him that if he were to get hurt doing this “wrestling thing,” then he could say goodbye to his full ride scholarship. This added stress caused Baron to skip workouts at the gym and fly back to Detroit for practice. He kept lying to Mudcock about his training and being ring ready week in and week out. Truthfully, he had been running triples with his team and trying to memorize plays. At this point in his life, football was more important. But Dwight Couch was the reason the young man kept going forward with the wrestling. This guy lit a fire in Baron and he was waiting for the day he could finally douse the flame.

School was a different story. Baron was able to keep up on his schooling thanks to a lot of online courses that were offered to the students. He knew it wouldn’t last long but he was thankful for the option and some understanding from the professors.

The paycheck that came from wrestling treated him well. But it was also a constant reminder that he could not stick his face into the politics that came behind it. He heard others in the locker room talking about starting a union or getting healthcare or whatever it was they were doing but it wasn’t enough to keep him interested. Quite frankly, he knew that if his face started showing up in the news for things outside of wrestling and football, he would quickly be reminded by the University that they would not support him and heavily persuade him to give up on the political commentary. There were already whispers about men on his team being suspended if they even dared “take a knee” during the national anthem. When things like this popped up, Baron would hear his mother’s voice telling him to keep his nose clean and pay no attention to the opinions of fools. It was reiterated: think about himself and what playing football could mean for his career.

Reflecting on all of this, an intruding thought came to his head. He didn’t know if this was formed from his own conscious or if the “greater powers” had anything to do with it. Takuma Sato. Baron knew he was supposed to get into contact with Takuma. That didn’t mean he had to become friends with the guy but every attempt so far seemed to fail him. He had to keep thinking up ways to get into contact with Sato, but he knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

He sat in his Vegas apartment, staring at his white wall. His thoughts wouldn’t clear. It had been months since he last attended a “Meeting of the Barons.” Though he admitted to himself that he gave up on his prayers and meditation while trying to figure this UOW situation out, he was still surprised that the head Baron Vendredi did not contact him to see how things were going. As a matter of fact, Vendredi couldn’t recall the last time he had any premonitions or warnings about the near future. It was as if he was just a regular young man trying to make his way in this world.

Regular enough that his wall still remained white and he still found himself sitting in his living room. “Better luck next time, I guess,” he said as he got up from a folded chair and made his way to his bedroom to get ready. That’s when his cell phone went off.

“Hello, Rich. How’s it going?”

It didn’t take psychic abilities or Caller ID to know it was Rich Relando phoning him. He was the only person to call Vendredi in today’s time. Even his own mother preferred to use Google Hangouts to talk.

“Hey, yeah, how’s it going, Vendredi? Just calling to let you know that you’re booked next week. It's a tag team match for the World Tag Team Titles. Try saying that five times fast, hah. Anyway, it’s you and Takuma Sa-”

Baron interrupted him. “Wait, they’re teaming me up with Takuma Sato? Why?” Baron began to wonder how this would play out.

“Yeah kid, it’s not that big of a surprise. You both represent Detroit in some essence, they just thought it would make sense, I guess. Either way, you guys will be facing the team of Abbigail Dresden and Valora Salinas, Davey-Boy O’brien and Kronin (or as I like to call them, Kronin O’Brien), and last but not least, Vastrix and Abishag. Not too bad for a guy that’s been on a losing streak.”

That last line stung a little. But Baron was happy to hear that he would be teaming up with Sato. “What about all of the other stuff that has been happening? Has there been anything regarding me in the news?”

Baron could hear Rich sigh on the other end of the line. “No, kid. So far you still appear to be squeaky clean in this whole thing. I wouldn’t worry too much with what’s going on. Let those that are leading the charge deal with all the other stuff that comes with it. If I were in your position, I’d remain silent until this whole thing washes over. Alright kid, I gotta go. Take care of yourself.”

And with that, the phone line went silent. Baron stood there wondering if this would get any easier. He knew this was the invitation to meet up with Takuma but would he be any more welcoming than he had been in the past? Time would tell. For now, he needed to get a hold of Ivan Stricker. Maybe Sato's manager would be able to get this ball rolling.