Hold On To That Feelin' | 002

[Kelson Hewitt]

Las Vegas, Nevada - 2.14.21

A nice warm hot tub, a bottle of wine, and a view of the night sky. It was a fresh change for Kelson Hewitt, who sat rested his head against the edge of the tub. An soft moan of relaxation gurgled out of his throat as he softly shut his eyes, letting the feeling of peace and quiet overcome his sense.

"This... this is nice."

It was so quiet. For weeks, even before he arrived in the OCW, Kelson had someone breathing down his neck, looking to take him out for what felt like every waking second. That problem was solved, and now he was enjoying tonight like it was his last, as the soft melody of Scorpions' "Wind Of Change" played in the background over a speaker. After a moment, Kelson's eyes flickered open while he lifted his head up.

"Do I deserve this?"

Kelson was a critical thinker. A man who couldn't rest on a victory, regardless of how big it was. As his brain began to swirl around the idea that he wasn't worth the treatment given to him, the sight of Greta Angelou's body put his mind at ease. He could only see everything below her head, but that was worth the price of admission alone. The camera smartly maneuvered behind a table that had an assortment of different items on it, covering up her nude body as she slowly circled the hot tub, stopping behind Kelson and resting her tender hands on his head, as her silky smooth fingers caressed his ears, one of which has a bandage on it from Bob Grenier's bite earlier in the night. A soft chuckle came out, followed by Kelson letting his eyes rest once again.

"You're right... I do deserve this."

Kelson laid his head back on a much softer cushion now. The victory over Bob was sweet, the soft buzz he had felt from drinking was amazing, and the touch of Greta? That was just peachy. This was the perfect way to end Kelson's first night in the company, beating a Hall Of Famer, scoring a date with a beautiful woman, and getting the chance to finally relax for once. Tonight was about Kelson, and the night was young for these two. The fun was about to begin.

But tomorrow?

Tomorrow is about getting back to work.

Williams, Arizona - 2.17.21

“The neon light's on me tonight
I've got a way, we're gonna prove it tonight!”

"Round And Round" by RATT was the song that played inside Kelson's earbuds as his fists banged against the heavy bag inside an empty gym. Being an "OCW superstar" has perks, such as the luxury of renting out a gym for a day. The sweat flew off of Kelson's arm as a patch of black hair covered his eyes. He had been going at it for what felt like an eternity, putting in the work.

“Don't stop now...”

Exhaustion was taking it's toll, but in Kelson's mind, he couldn't stop. His match with Veronica Strander was fast approaching. In his mind, each hit represented a foe he defeated before. Ace Pena, Korey Kill, Chemic, and Bob Grenier. Each time Bob was in his head, he hit harder. It was the toughest battle of his life, and it was his motivation to continue defying the odds. As he reeled his arm back for another hit, envision Bob's face, he began looking for a left hook, and as he swung wildly, he connected with a sick thud. The impact was enough to cause Kelson to fall back on his ass, before collapsing on his back. A groan of fatigue rattled out of his throat as he removed his earbuds, letting the silence of the gym overcome him.

“Shit...”

Kelson's eyes roamed the ceiling of this dingy old gym. The dust was in the air, the AC was turned off, and it felt like an inferno. Kelson's spirit wanted to get up and continue beating the hell out of the bag, but his body told him it was time to rest.

“Fine.”

He accepted his fate. Slowly, he got himself up to a sitting position. A swig of water down his gullet re-hydrated him. As he drank, he turned his head, looking around the gym. There wasn't a single inch of this place that Kelson hadn't tried to use to get in shape. Now he was just running in circles. The idea that he may have over trained himself had came to his mind given how sore his body felt, but he shrugged this off mentally. As he put the bottle of water down, he began to unwrap his fist tape. As the tape came off, his knuckles were red, almost bloody. They shook mildly, begging to take a break.

“The road won’t get any easier, I can promise you that.”

Marcus Welsh wasn't wrong. For a solid week, people doubted the ability of Kelson. Who could blame them? He was just some new kid off the block as far as they were concerned. Nobody in Vegas bet against Bob Grenier, a seasoned vet, a Hall Of Famer. Gideon Cross was in the same boat, yet he failed. The promise of picking up Gideon Cross' slack came true, and now Kelson sat in this old ass gym with a significant amount of momentum on his side. The sky was the limit. As he sat there, frozen physically, he began to put the wrap back on his fist, before standing up, and eyeing the heavy bag, before striking it again and again. Now wasn't the time to rest. Now wasn't the time to celebrate a single victory. Was it a big deal? Of course, it was a hall of famer, but Kelson told him to bring it. Kelson told him to fight him as he would his toughest opponent, and now he has set a standard for himself. To face Kelson, only those willing to go to the lengths he has gone to get to this point are worthy. Everyone else? Bystanders in the way of a man looking to redeem himself to build a better future for the OCW.

The Grand Canyon, Arizona - 2.18.21

“Earlier this week... Marcus Welsh made a promise to me.”

In what is perhaps the most symbolic message of Kelson's career, we see “The Man Of Steel” kneeling down, holding his chin with his index finger and thumb, looking across the beautiful Grand Canyon in the evening. Talk about your detours. He slowly stood up, taking in a deep breath as he looked out to this beautiful site, before turning his head to the camera.

“When he said the road wouldn't get any easier, I believed him. He's a man of his word, but when I heard Veronica Strader would be the proof to back up his claim, I knew he was serious.”

Kelson smirked a bit.

“You see, I didn't get into this sport because it was easy, I became a professional wrestler because I love professional wrestling. If you love something, you're willing to fight for it no matter what, and my journey so far has been a roller-coaster of ups and downs.”

Kelson paused, looking at the dirt he stood on.

“Now... Veronica is supposed to be that next challenge. I get it... beat a Hall Of Famer, go on to try and pick up a win over the TransAtlantic Champ. It's not a bad course, not at all. What can be said about you that hasn't been said? You're record is impressive, and you've knocked off plenty of big names, with the most recent being Dylan Thomas. Bravo to you, champ.”

His hands clapped together softly, but it was more sarcastic than anything else.

“But... all of that good will, all of that respect I had for you, it fizzled a bit, when leading up to your match with Dylan, you brought up how people weren't respecting you.”

There was a pause, a pause of Kelson collecting his thoughts, before spreading his arms and letting them drop quickly.

“I don't know if you've noticed or not, but this sport isn't what it used to be. Respect is hard to come by, and there's nothing more disrespectful then demanding respect. I earn respect, Veronica. I earned the respect of the OCW fans, the fans that you call faithful, the fans you talk about so often in hopes of gaining their sympathy, just by wrestling. You are a great wrestler, that can't be disputed, but I see the way you look at me. There's a certain time in every champion's reign where they begin to get comfortable... and I can see it. I can see how you look down on me. It's that same glare you give to everyone else in your way. You're a champion, kudos to you... but if you think for a second that your record scares me... it doesn't. Nothing about you intimidates me. The only feeling I have seeing you is a feeling that I want to prove that I'm better in that ring this Monday. I proved to the world that no matter how experienced you are, on any given day, someone can get the better of you. I, plan on getting the better of you.”

A shake of the head overcomes him.

“If you want my respect, then you'll need to do exactly what Bob Grenier did last week, and that is bring your best effort. He punched, kicked, scratched, bit, and clawed his way through our match, trying his best to come out the victor, and in the end? I beat him. I did it, on my own. No matter how hard he fought, "The Man Of Steel" prevailed on pure will and strength. I'm looking to continue impressing the fans, to impress the offices, and show everyone here what I'm all about, and defying expectations seems to be my theme now. In my mind, you're not a Strader, you don't belong to a prestigious wrestling family... to me, you're another roadblock in my long journey to the top of the OCW. If I can beat a Hall Of Famer, I sure as hell can beat you. See you Monday, champ, and get ready to be taught a lesson in respect.”

He turns his head to the Grand Canyon, as the sun has finally sat, with the screen fading out on the side profile of The Man Of Steel.