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Câu chuyện MidReal
Ropes of Redemption
Bối cảnh:Time to retire from pro wrestling
Tạo phiên bản của tôi cho câu chuyện này
Jack "The Ace" Anderson
retired pro wrestler, friends with Sarah and rivals with Mark, rugged with a charismatic smile, determined and haunted by past injuries.
Mark "The Mauler" Mitchell
current pro wrestling champion and Jack's longtime rival, competitive with Jack and wary of Sarah's influence on him.
Sarah Jennings
sports journalist and Jack's confidante, friends with Jack and respects Mark's skill, athletic build with sharp eyes, intelligent and fiercely loyal.
It’s a good thing I’m a tough guy.
I don’t think my ego could handle the truth.
Retirement sucks.
From the outside, it probably looks like a pretty sweet deal.
After fifteen years of putting my body through the equivalent of a brutal car crash every night, I get to stop.
I get to take a break and do whatever I want.
But the thing is, pro wrestling is in my blood.
Sure, it’s fake as hell, but that doesn’t mean it’s not real to me.
When I’m in that ring, with thousands of people screaming and chanting my name, it’s hard to remember that none of this is real life.
It feels more real than my normal life ever did.
And now it’s over.
I’m done.
I swirl the whiskey in my glass, watching the ice clink against the sides.
The dim light of the bar casts long shadows, making everything seem more dramatic than it is.
Or maybe that's just my mood.
I take a sip, letting the burn remind me that I'm still here, still alive.
Barely.
The door swings open, and I spot Sarah walking in.
She's got that look on her face, the one that says she's worried about me.
Great.
"Jack," she says, sliding onto the stool next to me. "How are you holding up?"
I shrug, trying to play it cool. "I'm fine."
She raises an eyebrow. "You don't look fine."
"Thanks," I mutter, taking another sip of my drink.
Sarah's been my confidante for years, ever since she started covering the wrestling circuit.
She's seen me at my best and my worst.
And right now, I feel like I'm at my worst.
"You sure this is what you want?" she asks softly.
I nod, but it feels like a lie. "Yeah. My body can't take it anymore."
She studies me for a moment, then sighs. "You know you can always count on me, right?"
"Yeah," I say, but my mind is elsewhere.
It's on Mark "The Mauler" Mitchell.
That bastard is still out there, still wrestling like he's twenty-five instead of pushing forty.
What would he say if he knew I was retiring?
Probably laugh his ass off.
The thought makes my blood boil.
"Jack," Sarah's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Talk to me."
I shake my head, trying to clear it. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing," she insists. "You're thinking about Mark, aren't you?"
I don't answer, but she knows she's right.
"He doesn't matter," she says firmly. "You need to focus on yourself."
Easier said than done.
Mark's been my rival for as long as I can remember.
We've had some of the most brutal matches in wrestling history.
And now... now I'm just supposed to walk away?
"I can't do this," I mutter under my breath.
Sarah leans closer. "Yes, you can. You're stronger than you think."
But am I?
The night drags on, each minute feeling like an hour.
Sarah tries to keep the conversation light, but it's no use.
My mind keeps drifting back to the ring, to the roar of the crowd, to Mark's smug face.
I down the rest of my whiskey and signal for another.
"Jack," Sarah says gently. "Maybe you should slow down."
"I'm fine," I snap, regretting it immediately when I see the hurt in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," I mumble. "It's just... hard."
"I know," she says softly. "But you'll get through this."
Will I?
The bartender slides another drink in front of me and I grab it like a lifeline.
Just as I'm about to take a sip, the door swings open again and a group of rowdy guys stumble in.
One of them spots me and nudges his friend.
"Hey, isn't that Jack 'The Ace' Anderson?" he says loudly.
Great. Just what I need.
They make their way over to us, grinning like idiots.
"Man, we used to watch all your matches!" one of them exclaims. "You're a legend!"
"Thanks," I say flatly, not in the mood for fanboy antics.
"So why'd you quit?" another one asks bluntly. "You still got some fight left in you, right?"
I grit my teeth. "Nope."
They exchange glances and start whispering among themselves.
Sarah puts a hand on my arm. "Let's go somewhere else."
But before we can move, one of the guys steps forward with a smirk on his face.
"You know who could still kick your ass? Mark 'The Mauler' Mitchell."
And just like that, something inside me snaps.
