 |
Escaping The Eighth Dimension // part one.
 E S C A P I N G T H E E I G H T H D I M E N S I O N..
Part One.
The lockeroom had cleared out. The drum and electricity of the live crowd has all but filtered out of the arena. Cody sat before an empty locker. Before him, his body bruised and broken, fresh scratches trail down his back, disappearing beneath the leather jumpsuit he wore half unzipped. He lifts his head, catching a glimpse of his smeared face paint in the metal trim around the locker. His reflection warped in the small reflective surface, his features stretched as he slowly moves his head back and forth, his eyes dead, his features hidden. Once again in his wrestling career, Cody did not recognize himself. He sat in reflective silence, his mind racing, the one person he wanted to ask for advice, the legendary American Dream was gone. All that remained was his name. Was Cody doing it justice? Who was he doing this for? Destroying his body night in and night out for a company that routinely overlooked Dusty, relegating him to black and yellow polka dots… the son of a plumber, the common man. His brother, dressed in robes and a wig.. was Cody the latest punchline to the McMahons?
Cody leans forward in his cold metal folding chair reaching through his backpack before eventually producing a piece of bright white paper. He unfolds it, his eyes moving down the page, the smell of fresh sharpie filling his nostrils. He sits in silence with this single piece of paper like it held the answers he was desperately in search of for what felt like an eternity. When he pulled his attention from sheet of paper he had new resolve in his eyes. He sets the piece of paper down gently, like it was the most precious commodity in the world. His hand immediately moves to the remaining rhinestone jewels on his forehead, plucking them off of skin one at a time, tossing them into the empty locker on top of his bag. He stands up, catching his reflection in the cold steel of the locker again, the cold blue eyes staring back at him reminded him of Dusty and the legacy he built, the legacy he would want to leave behind. Cody wasn’t going to wait his turn any longer. The time for action was now.
Several hours later Cody slips his magnetic strip card into the receiver, the door clicked unlocked from the inside. He puts his shoulder into the door, light from the hallway spilling into the pitch black hotel bedroom. Gone was the leather Stardust jumpsuit, replaced instead by a tailored suit. Moonlight spilled in from the floor to ceiling windows, illuminating the outline of furniture in the cramped impersonal space Cody had spent most of his adult life living in from one city to the next. He steps inside, adjusting the straps on his shoulders as he lets the door close behind him, bathing Cody in the pale blue light. He sets his bag down next to him as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed – exhausted mentally and physically. Within a minute his phone vibrates in his pocket. Cody fishes it out, his eyes studying the screen, his heart skips a beat and stomach sinks just a bit. The message from Hunter was short and sweet: Vince has approved your release. We’re sending out a press release imminently. We wish you the best in your future endeavors. Cody exhales, a weight lifted off of his shoulders as he sets his phone face down on the bed next to him, his eyes closing as he lets his new reality sink in and wash over him. He was a free man. He sits in silence for a moment before his phone dings again. He turns it over, the only light in the room emitting from the screen of his iPhone. He looks at the alert: Breaking News: Cody Rhodes granted his release from World Wrestling Entertainment. It was official and it was now public. Cody uses his thumb to flick the button on the side of his phone, muting it as the texts from friends and family roll in everybody reacting to the news, asking if he was okay. Cody turns towards his bag, reaching into that same pouch to produce that same piece of paper from his lockeroom. He pulls it out and takes another long look at it before standing up, grabbing his phone in the same motion. He walks over to the hotel room desk, turns on the small lamp and sets the piece of paper under it. Still ignoring the constant stream of texts Cody snaps a picture of the piece of paper, opens twitter and posts the photo for his fans. He was okay. He had a plan. 
|