Final Frontier: Night 1 Afterburn
Jan 11, 2019 23:23:54 GMT -5
Post by C.S.O. on Jan 11, 2019 23:23:54 GMT -5
Battered. Bruised. Beaten.
This is how we find Logan Alexander, backstage in Madison Square Garden after the end of Final Frontier’s first night, well after the closing bell had rung and the crowd had filed out. He sits in his dressing room, slouching on one of the benches there, his head hung forward in defeat. He’s changed and cleaned up after his tough journey earlier in the evening. He reaches down with his left hand, grabbing hold of an ice pack resting on the bench beside him then lifts and places it against the back of his neck. He winces as he does this, clearly feeling the toll the night has taken on him.
From the doorway across the room there comes a knock.
He lets out a weary sigh, not even bothering to look up.
Logan Alexander: It’s open.
The door swings open slowly, allowing Amanda Johnson to step into the room. Upon seeing one half of the FGA World Tag Team champions, she looks a bit hesitant to begin.
Amanda Johnson: Is… this a bad time?
Logan snorts softly, not even looking up at her..
Logan Alexander: That’s a rhetorical question… But I suppose that it’s better now than anytime going back to the point where I was lying flat on the mat to end the show…
Amanda Johnson: I could come back another time…
Logan Alexander: Might as well get the dissection of my colossal failure out there started though. No sense in putting it off.
Amanda looks surprised by those words.
Amanda Johnson: I wouldn’t call your showing out there tonight a colossal failure, Logan. I don’t even think I’d brand it as a failure for you…
Logan Alexander: Stop.
His voice is cold and harsh as he cuts off Amanda.
Logan Alexander: I’ve been doing this on and off for over fourteen years. I don’t need to hear about how I ‘put up a good fight’ or ‘had a good showing’ or ‘proved that I deserve more opportunities’. I’ve heard all of that stuff plenty of times over the years… and it still means as little to me today as it did then. There are no prizes in this for almost winning. You get nothing for being the runner up. Sure… I made it through the Frontier Lion’s Cup. I defied all of the expectations about me for this tournament and I’m pretty sure that I broke everybody’s tournament brackets. I wasn’t a likely choice to beat Ashlyn in the qualifying round. I wasn’t supposed to beat Johnny Karma. There was no way that I should have made it to the finals. All I’d been told and all everyone believed two months ago is that I deserved nothing. Even asking for a chance to get considered for anything beyond what I had at the time appeared to be some sort of blasphemy. How dare I ask for such a thing on Flashpoint?
He scoffs audibly at that.
Logan Alexander: Well… I suppose that everyone can be happy now. In the end, they can feel reassured that I got exactly what they think I deserved for all my hard work. Nothing. On top of that, I have no time to really processes or move on from or recover from it. Thanks to Hadley Herrera, I have to drag myself up tomorrow and fight for everything I’ve got left in my possession here in FGA with whatever I’ve got left in me now against her darlings.
He sighs softly.
Logan Alexander: I fought with everything I had. I put my heart into all that I did out there… and the crowd rallied behind me for that… briefly. What they really did was rally against Evan. In the end though… I had my heart ripped out and crushed by my former friend. Tomorrow night, Dan and Peaches are going to try and stuff what’s left of my heart back down my throat and take the Tag Team titles while all the fans, who cheered me tonight, hope that Ashlyn and I fail. So right now, I don’t need any of the empty words of congratulations that people think I want to hear. Those don’t matter. And they never will. What does matter is that.
Logan points across the room. Sitting there on another bench against the wall is his half of the FGA World Tag Team championship. The belt is propped up on his bag, positioned so that he can easily see it.
Logan Alexander: That still means more to me than anything else right now… because it’s mine and Ashlyn’s.
Lowering his hand back down, he releases another heavy sigh.
Logan Alexander: I have a war to fight tomorrow… somehow. So, what I really need is to be left alone. We’re done here, Amanda.
Amanda Johnson: But I’d just li--
Logan Alexander: We’re done.
His words and demeanor leave no room for argument, or at least Amanda takes them as such. Looking at him with disappointment, Amanda backs out of the dressing room and closes the door, leaving Logan alone with his bitter thoughts of what could have been.
Fade.
This is how we find Logan Alexander, backstage in Madison Square Garden after the end of Final Frontier’s first night, well after the closing bell had rung and the crowd had filed out. He sits in his dressing room, slouching on one of the benches there, his head hung forward in defeat. He’s changed and cleaned up after his tough journey earlier in the evening. He reaches down with his left hand, grabbing hold of an ice pack resting on the bench beside him then lifts and places it against the back of his neck. He winces as he does this, clearly feeling the toll the night has taken on him.
From the doorway across the room there comes a knock.
He lets out a weary sigh, not even bothering to look up.
Logan Alexander: It’s open.
The door swings open slowly, allowing Amanda Johnson to step into the room. Upon seeing one half of the FGA World Tag Team champions, she looks a bit hesitant to begin.
Amanda Johnson: Is… this a bad time?
Logan snorts softly, not even looking up at her..
Logan Alexander: That’s a rhetorical question… But I suppose that it’s better now than anytime going back to the point where I was lying flat on the mat to end the show…
Amanda Johnson: I could come back another time…
Logan Alexander: Might as well get the dissection of my colossal failure out there started though. No sense in putting it off.
Amanda looks surprised by those words.
Amanda Johnson: I wouldn’t call your showing out there tonight a colossal failure, Logan. I don’t even think I’d brand it as a failure for you…
Logan Alexander: Stop.
His voice is cold and harsh as he cuts off Amanda.
Logan Alexander: I’ve been doing this on and off for over fourteen years. I don’t need to hear about how I ‘put up a good fight’ or ‘had a good showing’ or ‘proved that I deserve more opportunities’. I’ve heard all of that stuff plenty of times over the years… and it still means as little to me today as it did then. There are no prizes in this for almost winning. You get nothing for being the runner up. Sure… I made it through the Frontier Lion’s Cup. I defied all of the expectations about me for this tournament and I’m pretty sure that I broke everybody’s tournament brackets. I wasn’t a likely choice to beat Ashlyn in the qualifying round. I wasn’t supposed to beat Johnny Karma. There was no way that I should have made it to the finals. All I’d been told and all everyone believed two months ago is that I deserved nothing. Even asking for a chance to get considered for anything beyond what I had at the time appeared to be some sort of blasphemy. How dare I ask for such a thing on Flashpoint?
He scoffs audibly at that.
Logan Alexander: Well… I suppose that everyone can be happy now. In the end, they can feel reassured that I got exactly what they think I deserved for all my hard work. Nothing. On top of that, I have no time to really processes or move on from or recover from it. Thanks to Hadley Herrera, I have to drag myself up tomorrow and fight for everything I’ve got left in my possession here in FGA with whatever I’ve got left in me now against her darlings.
He sighs softly.
Logan Alexander: I fought with everything I had. I put my heart into all that I did out there… and the crowd rallied behind me for that… briefly. What they really did was rally against Evan. In the end though… I had my heart ripped out and crushed by my former friend. Tomorrow night, Dan and Peaches are going to try and stuff what’s left of my heart back down my throat and take the Tag Team titles while all the fans, who cheered me tonight, hope that Ashlyn and I fail. So right now, I don’t need any of the empty words of congratulations that people think I want to hear. Those don’t matter. And they never will. What does matter is that.
Logan points across the room. Sitting there on another bench against the wall is his half of the FGA World Tag Team championship. The belt is propped up on his bag, positioned so that he can easily see it.
Logan Alexander: That still means more to me than anything else right now… because it’s mine and Ashlyn’s.
Lowering his hand back down, he releases another heavy sigh.
Logan Alexander: I have a war to fight tomorrow… somehow. So, what I really need is to be left alone. We’re done here, Amanda.
Amanda Johnson: But I’d just li--
Logan Alexander: We’re done.
His words and demeanor leave no room for argument, or at least Amanda takes them as such. Looking at him with disappointment, Amanda backs out of the dressing room and closes the door, leaving Logan alone with his bitter thoughts of what could have been.
Fade.
