Faint of Heart

Archie Collins held his coffee by the cup, refusing to use the handle. He wanted to feel the heat. The pain scorched his palm to the point where it was all he thought about. It was unnecessary, but it helped him focus. While his mind wandered off many times during the day, it was through pain that he remained centered. Focused. Ready to take on the day.

He held it for a good while, longer than in the past. His pain threshold continued to increase with each passing coffee session. His mind stayed there, in that moment, and it stopped him from remembering all of the trauma from the past.

“I never was a coffee drinker until I got to my thirties,” he took a sip of the coffee and placed it on his table. “Never saw the point. Thought energy drinks right before matches were the way to go. Shit, that’s why I worked so recklessly back then. I’d be dead tired from the road and two or three drinks later, I’m on cloud fucking nine.” He laughed as the camera stayed steady on him. “But that stopped all after the accident. No need. I wasn’t wrestling in front of thousands anymore. If anything, it fucked up my sleep. I was up till late hours of the night, trying to figure out…” his voice trailed before getting back on topic “I was a zombie in the mornings until someone suggested I try coffee. Now I can’t live without it.”

“But you didn’t come here for coffee talk.”

“No, you came here to hear Archie Collins talk about wrestling,” he said, almost matter-of-factly. “It's why I’m here in Prestige Championship Wrestling. You see, last week, I faced Bryan Charles we put on a wrestling clinic. In those nine minutes, Bryan and I did everything we could to put each other away… the shitty part of it is that we both succeeded. A double fucking pinfall,” he shook his head as he looked away, taking another sip of his coffee. “I didn’t come back to wrestling for this. Bryan Charles. Hell of a fight, but we got unfinished business, my friend. You shook my hand and I respect you, but I’ll be damned if the next time we meet we don’t get a winner.”

“But that was the past,” said Archie. “And I promised myself I wouldn’t dwell on things that have already happened. Onward and upward. And upward do I have to climb,” he says regretfully. “Nayati. The Savant. Big man, I got nothing but respect for you. You are a multi-disciplined fighter who found his grounding in the sport of professional wrestling.”

“But you see, wrestling has been my entire life.”

“Ever since I was a snot-nosed kid, all I’ve been obsessed with is this sport. These cauliflower ears. These bruised cheekbones. This unbreakable neck. All because of what I’ve done to perfect my craft in wrestling. So you can bring all of those other disciplines to the table. You can bring your weight advantage. Bring everything you got to that ring. I promise you that this match won’t end in a double pinfall. There won’t be no draw when you and I are done and that bell rings.”

“I respect you, Nayati. I know that when you and I step into that ring magic will happen. Prestige Championship Wrestling needs guys like you and me, brother. They need guys who can deliver each and every night, just like I did last week, when Bryan Charles went to war. So now, it’s time to rally the troops. Get the weapons, those bombs, get them all ready. Because Nayati? This war of ours won’t be for the faint of heart.”