A Dallas steakhouse, high profile but low footfall. The perfect place for two television personalities as far as the public was concerned, as the prices were high and the staff were understanding of their need for personal space. Two men, Silas Artoria and Hidetaka Ito, were sat at a table in a dimly lit corner, both with sirloin steak with additional garlic mushrooms, and an assortment of vegetables; wondrously cooked to near perfect, as the elder of the two showed by enthusiastically scarfing down the meal.
The other, on the other hand, had not touched the mean, nor did he take a sip out of the half-pint glass of orange juice that the waiter brought over. He had his elbows on the table and both sides of his prepared plate, and simply rested his head on his hands, pondering in thought. He looked concerned, empty almost, as he didn’t even as much as twitch.
It didn’t take long for Ito to notice.
HIDETAKA ITO: [[Silas, you not eating your food?]]
There was no response.
HIDETAKA ITO: [[You know this meal was prepared for you with delicate hands?]]
No response, and Ito placed his cutlery near his place.
HIDETAKA ITO: [[Silas, look at me!]]
They finally looked at his mentor, although his face didn’t leave his hands nor did his expression change.
HIDETAKA ITO: You didn’t want to talk much after your match and our beatdown, you didn’t want to show up at the Evo 50 special despite wanting to support your co-workers. Why is this defeat bothering you?
SILAS ARTORIA: I feel like I’m getting too far for myself?
HIDETAKA ITO: Excuse me?
SILAS ARTORIA: I’m starting to feel that I’m unable to live up to what I say. I called the other team a bunch of worthless pieces of tin but I let the deadweight destroy the momentum--
HIDETAKA ITO: Hey now! Don’t disrespect your team members! It’ll get you nowhere.
SILAS ARTORIA: But his tagging cost us the match!
Ito calmly picked up his drink.
HIDETAKA ITO: Winning isn’t everything.
SILAS ARTORIA: It does to me.
HIDETAKA ITO: That’s because you made it mean something.
Hidetaka took a sip of his drink.
HIDETAKA ITO: A man in Florida won the lottery. Thirty five million dollars, and starts a wrestling company based around outlandish females in the business. Got syndication, airtime, and some great talent within the bizarreness of it all.
SILAS ARTORIA: And?
HIDETAKA ITO: Bankrupt in a year because the promotion meant nothing to people. THe founders did look at what it could mean to please, and the result is shallow. It was there for the sake of being there, and that lottery winner walked out with nothing. Thirty five million dollars for one year.
Ito points to Silas.
HIDETAKA ITO: The people pay attention to you because your activities mean something to them. I’ve seen it myself. [[Japan loves you and they mercilessly jeer everyone else, because you represent concepts beyond yourself.]]
HIDETAKA ITO: [[Your long ascention showed people that there is light at the end of the tunnel, and your loss thanks to the careless actions of your tag team member represents the hard working individual being betrayed by the short sighted morons.]]
Another sip of his drink.
HIDETAKA ITO:[[ And now you have the chance to demonstrate that knowledge and skill, feedback and whatnot can drag an undercard act into victory--]]
SILAS ARTORIA: [[--apologies but my Japanese understanding has been exhausted.]]
HIDETAKA ITO: Your efforts can represent leadership through merit and not desire. Anyone can desire elevation, but hardwork and merit gets you there, and this is your opportunity to hammer that message home.
Ito leans back in the chair, as Silas sinks into his hands in thought. Still disturbed by what was his first loss since his final stretch to the title. He called disOrder a bunch of trash cans supported by one dump truck driver; comments now in doubt thanks to the actions of a lower card act. Despite Ito having some encouraging words, it didn’t give Silas enough motivation to even pick up his fork to eat, something that Ito almost immediately noticed.
HIDETAKA ITO: What is it going to take for you to eat, Silas?
Silas couldn’t answer. He simply pondered on the words his mentor told him. A deep sigh escaped him and he stood up.
HIDETAKA ITO: Silas?
The canadian passed his hard to Ito.
SILAS ARTORIA: 5293, to pay for your meal. I’m going to sleep.
Silas grabbed his coat and headed towards the exit.
SILAS ARTORIA: I’ll see you on show day. We’ll send the mad dog back to the kennels.
"The concession stands are now selling those cheap hotel room round soap disks that I have personally blessed for $100’s a bar….AND SINNERS….I suggest you buy one, and use it, because if you think your God wants you in his heaven smelling like a 3am New York City uber ride you got another thing coming."