Once More for the Road - Doug E Fresh vs Kurt Noble

[Alex Smiley]

Once More for the Road
(Word Limit: 2500)
Doug E Fresh vs Kurt Noble

RP Deadline: Sunday, February 23 at 11:59 PM Pacific

[Doug E Fresh]

"Did you ruin yourself? Or did the people ruin you?"

(The Professor, Doug E. Fresh sits, reclined in his airline seat after defeat at King of the Monsters to Rex Evans. The loss was another of many that Doug has suffered recently in this comeback stretch. The words were his own. He has no allies, no friends or family while on the return flight from Japan. The only gain from this sacrifice was another check off the bucket list. His career has supposedly been over twice now but the right circumstances keep bringing him back. Despite the 'You still got it!' chants, many peers and smarks have called for Doug to finally hang them up for good.

His last 5 matches tell the story:

Jack Benevolence: Loss
Level-One: Double Count-Out
Jack Benevolence: Loss
Ace King: Loss
Rex Evans: Loss

It can be said that there's no shame to these defeats as the wrestlers across the ring from him are among the elite beings professional wrestling has to offer today. But it hurts him nevertheless as he was one of the elite. The questions linger as to his depreciation. Is it age? Is it his devotion to the sport or lack thereof? Has he maintained while others around him have evolved? What's there to blame if anything?)

Buzz

(His phone vibrates. Thanks to modern technology and in-flight wifi, there's a text message from an unknown number. Doug picks up his phone to view it. There's a photo of a tweet from Doug's twitter:

https://twitter.com/DougEFreshscw/status/1077367312750137345

Doug looks at it confused by the purpose of this message.)

"A part of me wishes there was no such thing as social media."

(He sets his head back to rest.

Buzz

Another message. He opens his phone and its from unknown once again. Its another photo:

https://twitter.com/DougEFreshscw/status/1090074136922206209

This time Doug seems alarmed. He stands up from his seat and looks around at all the passengers. No one even seems remotely interested in him. To that end, Doug settles himself down.)

"What is wrong with me?"

(He sets his head back to rest once more. After a short while longer, the flight lands at its destination, Doug's current city of residence Tampa, Florida. Just like any ordinary passenger, he waits for his things and time passes as he navigates through the airport. His wife Amber is waiting outside of security for him.)

"Doug, did you get my messages?"

"Those pictures of my tweets were from YOU??"

"What are you talking about?"

(Doug pulls his phone out and sees two messages from Amber waiting for him.)

"Oh. Um never mind. Jetlag."

"No tell me."

"I was on the flight and I got these texts from an unknown number. They are pictures of my old tweets."

"Any idea why?"

"No clue."

"Geez. You know Doug, sometimes I wish there was no such thing as social media."

"ME TOO!"

(They exit the airport and walk through the parking lot together.)

"So when is the last time you've seen him?"

"It's been too long. I had hardly heard of the engagement let alone the wedding date."

(They get in the car. Amber has a more serious look about her.)

"Listen, I wanted to make sure our son wasn't around when I said this. I'm sorry for my feelings about your wrestling again. But I'm done with it. And I don't hate you for going back to it. But I really want you to be done too. After this next match, please tell me that you're going to be really actually finished. I'm not saying I'm against something like once a year but we agreed to a life that didn't have you gone so damn much."

"I have a lot of soul searching to do. I appreciate your support even through dealing with your feelings on it. We've got the rest of the day today, then I'll go and see him tomorrow. After that its back to training and promotion for the Finale. I'm certain there will be a break after that whether its just a break or more."

(A few seconds of awkward silence pass.)

"Let's get home. I just want to relax with my family."

"Sounds good."



----



"Well holy Ruck-ing shit! Someone finally found the time to give a brother the time of day!"

(Those are the first words uttered by long-time friend, associate, tag team partner, in-ring enemy, and all around savant of wrestling Ryan Ruckus. Of course his wrestling days are long gone has he decided to hang the boots years ago. However its convenient to replace the F-bomb around family and friends with his signature Ruck.)

"I can't believe you're taking the plunge."

"Marriage...it really is Something Wicked my friend."

(They embrace and share the signature handshake many have known for years before sitting down. Ryan's fiance steps in and shakes Doug's hand before very nicely bringing them each some coffee to have while they see one another for the first time in awhile.)

"Ryan, tell me what you've been doing all this time."

"Expanding my empire. Silently...but deadly. Ruckus is a global brand man...beyond anything merchandise could control. I'm doing well. Now a little birdie whispered to me that you decided to lace 'em up again."

"I'm a broken record. Or I'm pretty much a big failure at this."

"The man who literally did everything to get out of my shadow and built a sinister empire, won titles everywhere...a failure?"

"Regression to the mean. I gotta suck at something. Apparently its quitting."

"That's not your problem."

"No? I imagine you're prepared to enlighten me?"

"I am the brains of this outfit."

"Come again?"

"You see who I'm marrying right?"

(Ruck points across the way to his future wife who gives him a nice wave.)

"Yeah but you're copying my shtick, the whole married family life and so on."

"Maybe you did it first. But I'm doing it better. And what I DID do first was attempt comeback after comeback and YOU know that."

"You had fun."

"Oh no doubt. But I wasn't in it to win it. And neither are you."

"False. I not only wanted to win but I wanted it more after that title match! You saw it! I was literally begging for another shot and being ignored time and time again. They gave me this match with Noble just to keep me from walking away."

"Exactly my point. Your trump card, your ace in the hole was walking away. You're not good at quitting. Your words, not mine. So it wasn't believable. You took the match with Jack because THEY played the nostalgia card. You entered the Extreme Tournament again because THEY played the nostalgia card. You took the match with Rex Evans because HE played the nostalgia card. And now Noble...you see where this is going. Your matches are about living in the past and not the future. And that's why you're losing them all. The only way the past can repeat is if you act like it. But you're not. You don't have hate, you don't have goons doing work for you, you're not wearing that black hood and praising yourself...you're just Doug E. Fresh...wrestling legend being used to put guys over."

(Its not often that Doug gets upset at Ryan in real life. But this was one of those times. He's clenching his fist hard over this before Ryan continues.)

"This passion you're showing, that's what you need on gameday. Get in the ring with the anger. Stop trying to suppress it. A number of guys have been asking for the best version of you to show up and you keep letting them down.

Now I'm asking you.

You gonna let me down mother rucker?"

"No."

"Good. Because I was actually going to pay the money to watch this one so perhaps make it entertaining for me would ya?"

"She's going to let you watch wrestling? That's lovely. Can we trade wives for the day after you're hitched?"

"Dream on."

(Ryan's being called upon by his fiance.)

"Duty calls. Try to be a little less of a stranger this time around?"

"It takes two for that."

"Oh I've been trying."

(They do a signature handshake and then embrace. Doug gets into his car and as he's leaving. Ryan hollers back at him.)

"Oh by the way I got a new number. Check your messages."

(Doug nods and then he stops. His eyes get real big.)

"No way..."

(By this point Ryan's already too far away. Doug looks down and suddenly.

Buzz

Another message of a tweet. This time it's not Doug's:

https://twitter.com/therexevans/status/1090093211467554817

All he can do is smirk knowing now its been Ryan all along.)



----



"This past week, the professor has become the student."

(Right now, Doug E. Fresh stands outside of a wrestling ring. It looks as though a sparring session had just ended as he has a towel around his neck and looks like he's just worked hard.)

"I've finally realized that for almost the last year I've been living in the moment. I've been dreaming. All of you gave me a reason to. So I fell asleep and starting being what everyone imagined I would be at this stage in my life. A few years ago I was looking for a reason to get out of this costume."

(Doug points up to the ring and there's a hooded figure who steps in. His face can't be seen but he drops to his knees, stares up and folds his hands in prayer.)

"I was just so sick and tired of feeling trapped by myself. I was the prisoner of my own ridiculous brain. All along I've been working to forget the feelings I get when I think about wrestling. I'd pinch myself, wake up, and realize that even though the life is gone, the dreams remained."

(There's nothing in the ring now but the black cloak.)

"It's beautiful. It's tragic. I have been so pathetic and uncharacteristic. And that ends now. Probably the only consistency that you all have witnessed from me is alcoholism. So right here in THIS moment as I hopefully have the world captivated in these few minutes I have to speak, allow me to do one last uncharacteristic gesture.

I'm sorry.

I apologize for the defeats. I apologize for not shutting Jack Benevolence the fuck up. I apologize for not being in the main event of the Extreme Tournament. I apologize for not giving half an effort in my match against Ace King. I apologize for not being better against Rex Evans in a match we waited YEARS to finally have. I apologize to all of you for being a lesser version of myself.

That's it. You're going to get what you REALLY want. Doug is back and he doesn't give a shit what you think."

(Doug reaches down and instead of a glass of scotch that we're used to, its the entire bottle. He pulls off the cap, takes a big swig, and sets the bottle off to the side.)

"The professor is ready to be the professor again. I've learned what I became. I've researched what's happen. I've studied the proper techniques to reach a solution. I'm training harder now. I'm working harder now. If this is truly going to be one more for the road...then damnit, its gonna be one you remember for a long long time.

There's been a lot of voices in my head telling me how I've disgraced my legacy, old man fresh is ruining his career by coming back and taking on challenges he's too much for.

My legacy is secure. I was the best fucking wrestler in the world. And I'm doing thinking that I'm lesser than before. I built myself by winning the Extreme Tournament and I did so not only by beating Jackie B. I did it by surviving sixty minutes of the most challenging wrestling of my life against the man I'm going to step into the ring with one more time...Kurt Noble.

Starting to think about this, I've painted the template for you Kurt. I showed you how to come back to wrestling the wrong way. Even you came to Las Vegas and told me that to my face. You did it so I could learn and I'm appreciative of that. You've been learning too. Did you learn from our last match forever ago? That's the Experts' last memory of you...below me.

Clearly I'm one for nostalgia. I'd like to make that happen again. And in order to do that, I'm tapping into EVERYTHING that I have so I can be the same intelligent, talented, athletic, vicious wrestler that I was in 2012. Nothing in the last year that you've watched will compare to what I'm going to deliver and you should be blessed to be my beneficiary.

The fan in me, hell the fan in all of us thanks you for coming back Kurt. But when the curtain calls, you're going to wish you stayed home. Because I am going to kick your ass just like I was asked to. See you soon old friend. I'll keep wrestling my own demons to help prepare you to wrestle yours."

(Doug drops the towel and gets back into the ring. The man in the cloak from before is again in garb and they start to grapple.)

[Kurt]

Second Best

"@KurtNobleAPW? That guy's against @DougEFreshSCW? More than one loss not good enough?"

Swipe.

"I'm def excited for @KurtNobleAPW and @DougEFreshSCW to get back into the ring. Rof gonna mark his mark! #Ironmanflashbacks"

Swipe.

"They're letting Kurt Noble back in Siberia? His last finals losses not good enough?"

Swipe.

O
O
O

Signal lost.

The man exhales, a look of resignation befitting his weathered, bagged eyes as he puts his phone down on the fold-out table next to him. He peers out the window, at the nebulous clouds surrounding the atmosphere; even from this height, one sensation is clear: cold.

"Mr. Noble?"

Kurt Noble's eyes dart away from the outside to the young, oversuited man standing in the isle next to Noble. His eyes glance out the window.

"We've entered Siberian airwaves. We'll be landing shortly."

A nod is his only response, as he moves back to the front of the plane, his "EXPERTS" badge becoming the focal point of Noble's gaze as he does. He puts his phone in his suit jacket, and runs his fingers through his grayed hair, a deep exhale following a rather coarse cough.

"Siberian air kills. You forgot, yes?"

Noble's eyes dart towards the man sitting across from him, although "walking tattoo" might be a representative symbol, with ink running from his eyeballs to his fingertips, and likely other unsubscribed areas.

"You don't recognize me, do you?" The man asks with a smirk as he spits his tar into the plastic cup next to him. "Of course not. Were dozens of us - last time. Almost got us killed - little revolution in prison, against Doug Fresh. Now your handler. World is funny like that."

An eternity of silence passes. Noble leans forward, stretching his heavily braced right leg, wincing as hew does.

"Sorry." The word hangs in the air as Noble reaches for his cane, cracking his fingers as he does.

"He talks," the man chortles. "Flying for nearly day, and first word is apology. This is Kurt Noble - the legend."

He eyes Noble up and down, who responds by avoiding his gaze. His eyes scan across Noble's ashy hair, sunken eyes, cane, and wrinkled suit.

"I don't know what else you expected," Noble responds. "I don't have a lot of...positive things to say about my time here."

"So why come back? Match is on comfortable United States. " He asks. The questions lingers in the air, but goes unaddressed-

"Mr. Noble, Bogdan - Fasten your seatbelts gentlemen; we're making our descent."

Noble clicks his seatbelt, as does Bogdan, whose penetrating gaze continues to lay on an unencumbered Kurt Noble.

"Why?"

This time, Noble's eyes dart, meet his Siberian counterpart's.

"Warden told me about you - what has happened," Bogdan notes as he clicks his own seatbelt. "Lost twice - once to Doug Fresh. Retire - out for good. Come back to here. Why?"

"I have my reasons," Noble mutters as the plane shakes, cluttering across Siberia's excuse for asphalt. 

After a slight delay, the overhead lights ding on, and Noble stands up, before having to heavily lean on his cane, pursing his mouth as he does.

"Jesus Christ," Bogdan mutters as he eyes Noble. "This is what Doug Fresh will face? Can barely stand - far cry from man I remember. Advice?"

Bogdan reaches overhead, grabbing what appears to be Noble's bang, and shoving into into his grasp.

"Lose quickly."

Bogdan and Noble lock eyes, but for the first time, Bogdan gives pause. His mouth drops the slightest inch as the two men's staredown breaks.

"You two coming, or what?"

The man from earlier motions to the two, as Noble takes his bag, limping off towards the exit of the plane. Bogdan still faces him, unmoving.

"What're you looking at?" The man asks.

Bogdan stirs as the flight door opens, a sudden icestorm breaking the calm of the interior. Noble stares it down, looking forward at a place that has been his home twice: The Siberian prison.

"Fire."

-
-
-

""'The Noble One' has returned, I see. You have gotten...old."

Before Kurt Noble stands none other than The Warden, a man all too familiar with the former True Experts contender. Surrounding them, outside the prison entrance, are a multitude of guards. Noble finally cracks a smile.

"Is memory going then?" The Warden asks. "The Extreme Tournament is no longer here. Too tumultuous - international conflicts, and all. Thank your President. Now, you asked to come here. Why?"

Noble eyes two guards grasping their trudgeons. Silence hangs in the air...before Noble tosses his cane forward. Bogdan chuckles.

"I'd like to train here," Noble responds.

"This is prison, not hotel," the Warden snaps back.

"This place broke me - twice. That will not how I remember it - when it's all said and done."

Suddenly, Noble begins to do the unthinkable.

He begins to strip.

He begins to undo his tie, before tossing it into the snow. His cuffs are the next to be addressed as the Warden smirks.

"You are kidding," the Warden responds. "Clearly, old man has lost his mind. Grab his things Bogdan-  get back on the plane. Good luck against Mr. Fresh. Thank for visit-"

"What have I left here?"

The Warden stops in his tracks, looking back at Noble, who tosses his suit jacket into the snow.

"You will die from frostbite if you continue to-"

"We're all going to die someday," Noble interjects. "But we're not all going to remembered. What will you remember me for?"

The Warden, nor Bogdan, respond. Noble begins to unbutton his dress shirt as his fingers begin to shake.

"Nearly destroyed this prison - twice. Lost to Jack Benevolence and Doug Fresh in two finals matches."

Noble fully unbuttons his shirt, and tosses it aside, his breath handing in the air. The guards doubletake as the point becomes clear: Kurt Noble is covered in scars. He eyes on particularly long one across Noble's pectoral.

"Crazy son of bitch," the Warden states.

"I got this one seven years ago against Doug Fresh in an Ironman match - here." Noble eyes the prison doors. "I didn't just lose; I lost something here. I've left more of myself in this place than most. I've come to get it back. Because...

"I don't know if I can beat Doug Fresh.

"But the only way I can is to remember what it was like to be tested. This place thrust greatness upon me once. It put men like Jack Benevolence and Doug Fresh at their best. Maybe that seemed like a lifetime ago, but I've never forgotten - not since I was last here. I have one month to be remembered. I do not intend to waste it.

Please."

Noble's breathing becomes more and more labored, his fingers beginning to darken. Bogdan merely shakes his head. The Warden looks him up and down, before motioning to the guards.

"Follow me."

-
-
-

"One hundred fifty six, one hundred fifty seven..."

Bogdan's voice fills the training room, as Noble completes his squats, his face a deep crimson as his leg shakes.

"One hundred fifty eight...nine...one sixty."

Noble stops, nearly collapsing on the detritus filled ground. He pushes himself back up, sweat pouring onto the floor below. In walks the Warden with a black duffel bag.

"Here it is, as asked," the Warden proclaims, dropping the bag next to Noble, who peers at it, before standing up, facing a hanging sandbag. He hands are quivering.

"It was left after the Ironman match, years ago. Tucked away, as prisons do."

"Thoughtful," Noble responds, his eyes locked on the bag. He reverts back to the punching bag, and begins his practice strikes.

"One month," the Warden proclaims, looking at Noble as he pounds on the punching bag. "You have one month access to this training room, and a cell. You live like prisoner, otherwise. Waste of time, personally. Why not train with scruffy Brit from before?"

"Because there's at least six feet of dirt between he and I every time I see him."

The Warden nods as Noble begins to punch the bag, pausing after each strike to regrip.

"Retired. Broken body. Lost twice. Dead manager. Nothing to gain." The Warden's words give Noble pause.

"Why do this? What is there to gain from Doug Fresh?"

Noble leans against the bag, his hands shaking. He looks back at the black bag next to Bogdan.

"Do you know how The Experts will remember me, Warden?" Noble asks. "Or, better yet, how history will remember me?

"Second best.

"I've returned, Warden - as the only guy to have gone to Extreme Tournament finales, back to back, and lost. Warden...I lived a career always being the second best. I've reflected back on my career....

"In Pro Wrestling FIRE, I was second best to Jack Benevolence.

"In Action Packed Wrestling, I was second best to Terry Marvin.

"Here, in the Experts, I have always been second best to Doug Fresh."

Noble's breath deepen, and he continues to swing on the bag.

"White men believe rewriting history is always good plan," Bogdan quips. Noble pauses against the bag.

"No...my career is over. This isn't a comeback, nor a retribution. At the end of the day...I don't know that I can beat Doug Fresh. He's beaten me before, and certainly can do it again. But...

"I have to try...to make 2018's Extreme Tournament finale the story they tell when they look back at me.

"For one night, I have to try be the very best - the man in first. I'm not fighting for a title. I'm fighting for a place in history."

Noble looks down at his heavily braced knee.

"I'll be in a wheelchair soon," Noble remarks as he pats his knee. "The devil's come for me after years of cheating my way through walking across fire. I've wrestled Fresh time and time again - he knows this will be a weak spot. I cannot imagine that this match does any more than speed that process up more. But...

"I have to know."

Noble looks at Bogdan, and then the Warden.

"I have to believe that there's a chance, that for one night, and maybe only one night, I am better than Doug Fresh; I have to believe that for one night, I'm not the second best that history chooses to remember me as. I gained that legacy here, in this prison; I plan on leaving it here too."

Blood begins to trickle down Noble's wrist, but he ignores it.

"Doug Fresh is faster than I am - he's got two working legs. He's stronger than me: time has been kinder to him than this old man. I have not wrestled in six years, but he at least has a few matches under his belt. He's tested himself against - and seen what it's like to watch other steals the spotlight away. Doug Fresh and I are relics of a different age. This isn't the revenge match people are expecting. This isn't my resurgence"

Noble hits the bag again, this time gritting his teeth.

"It's a match of legacy. Let them remember than for one last time, I, Kurt Noble, stood against Doug E. Fresh. History will remember be as one of two things tonight...the man who tried, or the man that was better."

Noble's vigor dissipates, as he grabs the black bag next to Bogdan.

"I don't know that I can beat Doug Fresh...but Goddammit, I believe I have to try. One last time/."

Noble's eyes meet the Warden's, and he practices the same expression Bogden gave earlier.

"There it is," he mutters.

"Take me to my cell," Noble exclaims. "I have a match to prepare for."

-
-
-

The Warden, accompanied by Bogdan, walk in front of Noble as they pass various cells. Noble makes eye contact with multiple inmates, with some hints of rememberance, and other threatening stares.

"We have arranged a flight the day before the finals, one month from now - will fly you right to Legacy Plaza," the Warden notes. Noble nods.

"That's fine."

The trio finally stops in front of a cell heavily segregated from the rest. Noble smirks.

"Not much has changed, I see," Noble remarks as he looks the door up and down. "BAD ASS, Drake Mosa, Jack Benevolence...Doug Fresh. I stayed in this same cell before facing them."

"Some Hells never change," The Warden responds, opening the cell door. Inside, a tiny cell, barely bigger than eight by eight feet, lies. There's a bed, toilet, and little more. Noble steps inside, the black bag in hand.

"It takes a kind of man to walk into certain defeat," The Warden notes as his begins to close the door. "History will remember."

"Maybe," Noble responds, sitting on the bed as he puts the bag in his lap.

"Bogdan will come back for training sessions, and deliver your meals - nothing else. Then, you leave - for the last time. Enjoy your sentence."

Noble nods, but the Warden does not move. Noble begins to unzip the bag.

"Why come back?" the Warden asks. "Why face him?"

Stillness.

"I once believed I could change the course of the Experts," Noble responds. "I believed I alone could change the tide; I was wrong. Looking back, it's hard to know if what I tried really made a difference. Jack Benevolence still runs amok. Level-One terrorizes. Doug Fresh still stands. I can't change that. I don't know if I have the willpower to fight that again. I cannot promise that I can beat Doug Fresh - I've tried before. But, I do have one thing...

"Another chance.

"Another night.

"Time."

Noble fully unzips the bag, and smiles as he reaches inside.

"So then, Mr. Noble," The Warden asks. "What can you promise then?"

Noble lifts out a black wrestling jacket, wrinkled from its imprisonment. He shakes it out, before laying his eyes on the phrase on the back of it.

Kurt Noble
The Noble...

"One."

We scream every single word
Begging for some retribution
You wanna feel the wind
If it was all meant to be
Is that the only condition
I pray it turns around
Something to believe
That pulls us to our knees
But all is lost without the will
To let it go
If it's comfort that you need
Try and just believe...

"Unforgiven"
Sevendust