|
Post by Shaun Hart on May 9, 2023 11:46:36 GMT
( Owner Osh has been watching closely to see who would be the chosen ones to compete for the first-ever IIW Legacy Championship and after weeks of scouting Osh has chosen these four competitors to go to war to become the first competitor to hold the prestigious Legacy Championship.)
Match One Legacy Championship Fatal Four Way Match Matt Shepard vs Kenny Pryce vs Enigma vs Jayce Carver
|
|
|
Post by Jayce Carver on May 12, 2023 21:18:44 GMT
Memories, Chapter 1
1.0: Past
I remember it vividly, like it was only yesterday.
Let me paint you a picture with a strong hand-brush.
Queue the memory.
The year was twenty-one, and Jayce Carver had just burst onto the independent wrestling scene. He was certainly overwhelmed with passion and eager to step up and create a legacy for himself. Working extremely hard, he trained night and day to prepare himself to step up to the next level in his career. With a long road ahead of him, he knew it wasn’t going to be an easy trip, but he would make it eventually. When he first started, things were a little rocky, and not one person gave a damn about him. One night, things changed when that one boy in the front row started shedding tears after he lost. Seeing this boy with tears running down his face was a shocking feeling and was only more motivation for him to work even harder. In his mind, he knew bringing out the emotions of this young fan would be the fuel. He needed a way to connect with a more broad audience that would help boost his confidence, but how? From this day forward, he made it his lifelong goal that no matter what happened, the fans would always come first. It didn’t matter how busy he was or what kind of mood he was in; he would always make time to take pictures and sign autographs at the end of the night. Looking back on the grander scale of things, he was already a superstar in the making; he just needed the mindset to accompany it.
Snap back to reality.
Jayce Carver was caught daydreaming again about his past reflections, as he typically does; it wasn't an uncommon sight. He was always quick to relive scenarios inside his own mind and contemplate the route he chose to get here. It is not to say that these events didn’t happen, but he had the tendency to get carried away with facts over fiction and lean away from reality.
1.1 Present day: Twenty-Twenty-Three
The sweet voice of his wife had awoken him from a dead sleep, startling him just a touch as he rolled over in his bed. Opening his eyes, the first visual was his wife standing beside him with her big blue eyes gleaming in the sunlight beaming inside the big picture window. Her blonde hair was flowing and shining as she pushed him and giggled before speaking.
Wife: Don’t you think it is time you wake up? You have a lot of things to do today, not to mention that you made me that promise. You do remember that promise you made me, right? Just remember that you said you would finally build that treehouse for your son.
It took him some time before he finally rolled out of bed to find a wife who seemed very happy and excited this early in the morning. Standing up, he walked over to the corner of the room and opened the top dresser drawer, where he pulled out a red t-shirt and a pair of blue denim jeans. After he got dressed, he finally responded to his wife's comments.
Jayce: You know I would do anything for my son, right? I know I promised him I would get that treehouse built, and it’s just on the forefront. I know things have been busy the last couple of weeks with the wrestling career, but I want to have it done before I hit the road again.
She rolled her eyes when he finished speaking because she always hated when he was out on the road, as she felt lonely in life. Everyone always speaks about how hard it is to be a professional wrestler, but never does the wife of that wrestler get any credit.
Wife: I know you just signed a big contract with IIW, but do you really have to leave so soon? I know it is a selfish thing to ask. Where did you say you were heading next?
Jayce: They have me flying out to London, England, for some big event they have called Worlds Collide, where a new championship is being decided. I was shocked when I heard my name being thrown in there. It made me take a step back for a moment.
Wife: Yeah, but isn’t this the chance you were looking for? You have been training your entire life for this chance, and I know you have what they are searching for.
Jayce: I know, but you have always been by my side for my matches and one of my biggest supporters. With you being pregnant with our first child, you can’t make the flight and be there for me this time.
He walked over to her and placed his hand on her stomach, feeling the little kicks and bumps the baby was producing. Just that feeling alone was enough to put a smile on his face, knowing that in a couple of months his baby boy would be born.
Wife: It will be alright, trust me. I have my mom coming over to make sure I am alright. Well, you are gone, and if anything happens, I will call you right away. I don’t want to see you sacrifice everything you have worked for just because I am pregnant.
Jayce: You're right, but it's also my job to make sure you and him are safe every step of the way during pregnancy. I know things have been tough around here and the money hasn’t been flowing like it used to, but this is a chance to provide for my family.
Wife: The bills have always been paid, and we have a roof over our heads and food inside the fridge, so you must be doing something right. I know that the money is different from the independent circuit, and stepping into a professional contract means more money, but that also means more work. I am ready and willing to make sacrifices for you, and I give you my blessing to do it. I just need you to be ready.
Jayce: It’s obviously not the easiest decision of my life to leave you at home and travel on the road more just to keep up with the payments. I was always told babies were expensive, and it’s also my job to provide him with the essentials.
The conversation had paused between the two of them as he walked into the bathroom and turned the sink on to wash the dirt off his hands. Grabbing a towel from behind the door, he dried away the moisture that had soaked into his palms. He hung the towel back on the hood and made his way out of the bathroom as she was still talking to him.
Wife: Have you put any thought into what you want for dinner tonight?
The subject change was a little unexpected, but he hadn’t really been thinking about dinner quite yet. To shy away from sounding rude, he gave a general response towards her, hoping he hadn’t upset her.
Jayce: I was hoping to fire up the barbecue tonight and cook up some nice grilled chicken with a homemade barbecue sauce. How does that sound?
Wife: That sounds like a fantastic idea. I could also make up that potato salad you always seem to enjoy when I make it.
The debate was settled, and dinner plans were confirmed for tonight, but there were still plenty of things that needed to be done before that. He knew at some point he would still have to go over the details of his match and start preparing for it, but he wasn’t sure when he could sneak that in. Both of them had made their way downstairs, one after another. The house was in immaculate condition, as it was mess-free and there was not a speck of dust in any corner or ledge. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he grabbed his vehicle keys off the wooden cabinet, and when she saw him, she spoke up.
Wife: Where are you going in such a hurry?
He wasn’t sure how to respond, as he looked like a deer caught in the headlights being spotted. Taking a moment to think of a way he could say it without causing the least possible amount of problems, he said.
Jayce: I just have a little bit of business to take care of for work. I know that’s the last thing you want to hear right now, but I have a small obligation to fulfill. Trust me, I wouldn’t want to leave you right now, but it seems kind of mandatory and important.
Business Route: Chapter 2
2.0: Learning the ropes
From what he has been told, IIW is a different breed of industry and has some of the brightest and biggest talents signed. For him to be successful, he would have to take time to study each and every opponent, learning the basics. It was a tall task, as the varieties of wrestling styles were very vast and differed on opposite ends of the scale. On one hand, you had World Heavyweight Champion Joe Montouri, who seems like a regular family man. What is on the outside is not the same on the inside with this man. Such a loving, caring father who would do anything for his daughter, yet so ruthless inside the wrestling ring. There is also the current United Kingdom Champion, Max Stone. A fan favourite some would consider, but also a fighting champion in the industry. If you ever heard the phrase to be a champion, you need to think and act like a champion, that’s exactly what he would have to do. Studying guys like Joe Montouri and Max Stone has helped sharpen his mind, but he would have to continue to research more about the company. If he were to break down the inner workings of IIW and study the operations, he would have a chance at being one of the successful stories to break the mould.
It was a little later in the day, and the heat from the sun had turned up a few extra degrees when he arrived at his destination. The parking lot was dusty and grainy, and the building was rundown beyond belief. Reluctantly, he entered the building, still unsure of what he was doing or why he was there. It didn’t take long before he was stopped by someone who happened to be walking past and asked him.
Man: Hey you… Are you supposed to be here? What's your name?
He had asked in a very angry yet concerned tone, but with the confusion, Jayce wasn’t sure how to respond at that exact moment. About thirty seconds had passed, and no words were spoken until Jayce was finally able to say.
Jayce: My name is Jayce Carver, and the IIW sent me here; they never gave me any sort of explanation or directions.
This definitely felt like a movie or television scene from those old school mafia pictures, just missing the ambush. Wait, was that what was coming next? Taking a step back, unsure how this guy was going to respond, he needed to take every single precaution he could.
Man: Are you afraid there or of something big? You weren’t sent here for anything bad; you can relax and be easy.
What a sigh of relief as he released the tense feeling and clenched his jaw as he slowly let his fists unball from his fighting stance. The man approached him closer until he was just a few feet away and was smirking very eagerly as he spoke.
Man: Listen, kid, I know exactly what it’s like to be in your shoes, as quite some time ago I was supposed to be the next big superstar in the wrestling industry. Unfortunately, I sustained an injury so bad that I had to take a step back and was unable to continue.
It was sad news to hear, as any wrestler hates hearing stories like this because of the fear in the back of their mind. Reaching out with his left hand, he motioned like he was about to shake his hand. Waiting for the man to reach back, he spoke.
Jayce: I am truly sorry to hear that. I am going to be honest with you up front. I am still not sure or aware of why IIW sent me here. If you could shed some light in my direction, that would be very helpful.
He didn’t speak very many words but took a moment to gaze up and down to evaluate what he was dealing with. One look at a person could really help determine so many things and possibilities. After he was done with the once-over, he cracked a smile and introduced himself more.
Rex: Names Rex... I am a very well-known video coach for professional wrestling, where I help you study tapes and give you pointers in the right direction. I did a short gig for IIW in the past, so I guess it finally paid off and they sent me some more work.
What he was saying sounded legit and convincing, but the jury was still out on that, as performance would give more clear indications. Now Rex’s hand was also extended out as both men interlocked their hands for an awkward handshake.
Jayce: I take it that is what we are doing today, going over some footage and learning a few things. Also, is the footage about my improvements?
Snapping his back after the handshake, he nodded his head after listening to Jayce speak before he responded. Making sure he wasn’t rude, he cut the young man off and waited until he saw the opening to tell him.
Rex: From my understanding, we are going to go over your opponents for Word Collide, considering it’s a big event. Apparently, IIW has confidence in you to seize this opportunity but also wants to make sure you are prepared mentally and physically for this event. At this point, I would like to invite you to make your way into my video room so we can discuss this further.
2.1: Leaked Footage
Both men strolled inside the office, with Rex in the lead and Jayce following him very closely in second. This room was filled with state-of-the-art electronics from ceiling to floor, no matter where you looked. In the middle of the room was a giant desk that had three monitors extended out across it. Behind the desk were two chairs set up, and if you looked forward, you would see a giant television mounted to the wall. It was obvious that Rex took his business seriously and wasn’t just taking a piss when he said this was in depth. Rex had motioned for Jayce to walk over and take a seat since he was just standing there in shock and awe looking around the room. He was very slow to walk over and take his seat next to Rex, as he was only able to say a few words.
Jayce: Pretty sweet set-up you've got going on here.
He was just being polite and honest, but he was overly impressed with the amount of work that was being put into this. It was nothing like the independent scene when he was sharing a locker room with twenty other superstars, all huddled around the small television, watching the matches as they happened. With Jayce now settled in, Rex started moving files around on the television and PC, clicking his mouse with lightning speed. Before he clicked play on any of the footage, he asked a very important question.
Rex: How much information do you know about your match at Worlds Collide? Also, do you know any of the other superstars involved in the match?
Jayce: I know absolutely nothing; hopefully that won't be an issue.
He shook his head to make a no gesture as his face lit up with a smile and his eyes were practically bulging out of his face. He clicked the play button on the PC to make the footage begin on the big television in front of him, and as he spoke quietly enough, the audio wasn’t distorted.
Rex: I want you to pay attention to the guy in the black trunks. His name is Matt Sheppard, and from what I have been told, this guy loves to fight. He has had a mean streak in IIW since joining, beating people up with a zero-care attitude. Don’t let anger fool you; this man only cares about one thing more than wrestling, and that's his family. If you are going to go toe-to-toe with Sheppard, you need to make sure you keep your distance, as he is a highly skilled mat technician.
Soaking in the knowledge, Jayce was hanging onto every word that exited Rex's mouth and paying close attention to what he was saying. There's going to be a lot of information thrown at him in one session, but he will have to make mental notes if he wants to have the slightest chance at Worlds Collide. After Rex was finished speaking, he responded in a low tone of voice but just loud enough to be heard.
Jayce: How are his promotional skills and interactions with the crowd? Is that something I can focus on?
Rex: The fans absolutely hate this guy with a passion. I have yet to see him get any cheers from even a single person in the audience. If you can get them on your side going into the event, it definitely wouldn’t hurt your case. Seeing as you are new to the company, that might take some time, but you could also gain some traction quickly in this match.
Closing the clip, he loaded another video on the television; this time we see a menacing looking superstar with a long beard. As the footage rolls on, you can see him hitting certain moves, including a springboard knee and a forehand club followed by a headbutt. It looks impressive, but doing it at a height of six feet five was more impressive. With his eyes glued to the television, looking to spot anything, Jayce began speaking.
Jayce: What more can you tell me about this guy? He looks like a monster out there, the way he towers over the competition.
Rex: This is a man they call Enigma, who is impressive in size and also made a deep run in the Joe Montuori Invitational. He has definitely made a case for himself moving forward with IIW, but he came up short against Mac Bane, who advanced to the finals.
Jayce certainly had his work cut out for him, seeing two out of three of his opponents, but he also had to stay calm and collected. As the footage continued to play on the screen, he got more glimpses of Enigma. The footage came to an end before Rex continued to converse with Jayce.
Rex: If you can somehow find a way to allow Matt Sheppard and Enigma to pick each other apart and burn themselves out, you will be able to take advantage. These guys are both looking for the same glorified accolades as yourself, so they won’t be taking it lightly out there. There is another way, though, if you would like some more advice?
Jayce was interested to hear what Rex had in mind as he pondered the idea and the motions flowing inside his head. It was quiet for a few minutes as he thought things over before giving in to temptation.
Jayce: Sure, I am open to suggestions. What did you get for me?
Rex: You need to bring high energy and just continue to bring the fight to them fast and heavy. Both of these superstars are used to quick matches, and if you can wear them down to the point where the longer they go, the more gassed they become, I know from studying the tapes that your cardio is impressive, and it would be best to use that utility.
It was the best advice he had received from anyone in a long time, and he was always willing to improve and hone his wrestling abilities. The last clip was preloaded onto the television as Rex hit the play button one last time. We see a decently young superstar with short hair and a chiselled face. The video package isn’t mind-blowing, but there was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on just yet. Watching attentively, he tries to pick it out of the video, but nothing comes up, so in a confused tone, he speaks.
Jayce: What is this guy's deal, Rex? He doesn’t fit the mould of the typical wrestler in this match, as far as I can tell. Usually I am quick to pick out a few things on my own with these video clips, but this one just isn’t adding up for me.
He was right. This wasn’t the stage where you would usually see wrestling like this, but there had to be a good reason he was booked. Refraining from passing judgment too quickly, he waited for Rex to speak before committing himself to any statements.
Rex: That leaves us with just Kenny Pryce, who claims to be wrestling royalty due to the fact that his father was also a professional wrestler. I am not sure why these second-generational talents continue to feel like the wrestling community owes them something just because of their heritage, but that’s the new age. Take what I say with a slim grain of salt because I am not as familiar with him as the others. I do know he can take a beating and won't give up with courage, but yet again, it could hurt him in a match like this.
The footage session had ended, and the clips have now been watched, giving Jayce a lot more insight than he had before. Both men stood up from their seats and exchanged goodbyes before they parted ways for the time being. Before he left the office, Jayce was able to exchange one last conversation before heading home.
Jayce: I just wanted to say thank you to Rex for showing me these and giving me some help before heading into Worlds Collide. I will take this new-found knowledge and put it to good use during the match, and who knows, maybe next time you see me, I will have that Legacy Championship to my name.
Both men chuckled before Jayce went in and gave him another handshake before leaving the office to end his work day. It was getting later in the day now as he was in there way longer than expected and wasn’t sure how his pregnant wife was going to respond.
Reflections: Chapter 3
3.0: Meat and potatoes
There was nothing like the smell of propane in the fresh air outside as the flames grew on the barbecue. Standing in front of the barbecue, his pregnant wife was sitting on a lounge chair on the patio in the backyard. Wearing a sundress and flip flops, they haven’t spoken much since he returned to the house from work. Opening the lid of the barbecue, he threw the pre-marinated grilled chicken on the rack, hearing it sizzle. The pleasant smell of barbecue sauce dripping was in the air, and it was making both of them very hungry. Placing the lid down, he continued to let them cook as he turned around to her and said.
Jayce: I know things ran long today at the office, and I just wanted to apologize to you. I know I was supposed to be home earlier.
She had sunglasses over her eyes because he knew she was probably rolling her eyes or flaring her eyebrows like she typically does. Sitting there motionless, he waited for her response so he could either be in trouble or take a deep breath.
Wife: It’s alright; when I married you, I also married your career, so I knew you were taking care of business, so it's easier to forgive you. I do have to know, though, how your day went... What was it they had planned for you?
It was a good feeling to know she was understanding, but he also knew he would have to make up his promise to build the treehouse another day as the sun was setting. He opened the lid to the barbecue and moved the vegetables to the top rack of the barbecue before he continued to speak.
Jayce: They had me meet with a video coach to help me go over some of the footage of my opponents to help me understand more about them. Back when I was on the independent circuit, we didn’t have these options available; it was just to go out and perform. With this new way of doing things and new-age technology, it really has advanced the wrestling platform to another level.
He was trailing off, as he could tell she was listening to his every word and honestly caring about what he had to say. She was quick to respond to him, making sure he knew she was fully engaged and supportive.
Wife: I am glad you are learning new things and also glad you are moving up in the world of wrestling, but did you ever think? Hear me out: When we got married two years ago, did you think we would end up in this position in life, or did you have any doubts?
It was a loaded question, but he tried to find a way to articulate his response in a way that wouldn’t be misunderstood.
Jayce: Our marriage was never doubted... Career-wise, there were many dark nights that I wondered about. I never questioned my ability to compete or wrestle, but I questioned if I made the right decision in life about my job. It felt like no matter how hard I worked, we always circled back to wrestling independently because the opportunities weren't there for me. I had to work harder and harder to get to where I am today, and because of that, it’s made me a better man and, soon, a better father.
Taking her sunglasses off, she put them down on the table beside her as her face admitted a look of joy. You could see her eyes glowing as he spoke passionately about the wrestling business and how that spark was still active.
Wife: You've got to remember that all those efforts didn’t go unnoticed, and that’s why you are where you are now in the wrestling industry. This would be the best time to lay it all out on the table and go out there at Worlds Collide and give them everything you have to offer. At least if you do this when you rest your head on the pillow afterwards, you will know deep down in your heart that you gave them everything.
She wasn’t usually the one to give him a pep talk, but to put things into perspective, she was also once his manager before she got pregnant. It was eating her up inside that she couldn’t be by his side for Worlds Collide, but she also understood. At this time, he was removing the chicken and vegetables from the barbecue and placing them on a plate. Putting the plate down for a second, he asked her an important question.
Jayce: What about you? Do you miss being able to manage me? I know it hasn't been an easy road to watch and wait on the sidelines. Also, do you think that after the pregnancy you are going to be able to manage me still?
This was one of the toughest questions of the day, with so many unknown factors that went into it before she could make that decision. Giving it time to think about it, she didn’t respond instantly to the question, giving it a bit of thought.
Wife: It’s really hard to say right now that, on one end of the spectrum, I am going to be extremely busy taking care of our son. On the other end of the spectrum, we could always bring him to shows with us. I am sure some parents might have to wait a few years, though.
Jayce: Do you really want our son exposed to the world like that, though? Also, he might steal all the women in the locker room from their men.
Wife: That is true. If he's anything like you, this kid is going to be one small heartbreaker, and if he has your looks, it’s going to be chaos.
Both of them laughed out loud. They gazed into each other's eyes, staring long and deep for a few minutes. By this time, Jayce had picked up the plate of grilled chicken and vegetables and signalled for her to come inside and eat supper. Both of them made their way into the house for the night as the sun set.
3.1: TV Time
Jayce: For our viewing pleasure, I was able to obtain a copy of one of the latest episodes of Monday Night Mayhem on the DVR. It might not be the most recent Mayhem, but it should still be a good watch and help fuel my hunger to learn.
He sat back with his bag of chips on the couch, the remote gripped tightly in his hand as he clicked the play button. With his wife sitting beside him in major disbelief that once again he was focused on his work, she replied
Wife: Wrestling again... Who would have guessed?
She was quick to poke jokes at Jayce, knowing his regular routine when he was preparing himself for an upcoming match. He was always quick to engage himself in the storylines and angles that were being worked into the shows. The show began with the opening theme song and some pyrotechnics. You could see his inner child in his emotions. The theme and beginning video had just finished when he turned his head to her and said.
Jayce: That is the way you kick off a show. Who would have guessed they had such a budget to afford such an intense video and theme song?
The show was starting off with a few segments from some of the talent on the roster in a typical fashion, making claims and statements. This episode of Mayhem was also in the middle of the International Championship tournament, which featured many of the brightest stars competing in an all-out war of a bracket to determine the next champion. It all began when Joe Montouri got the victory over John Cavanagh for the heavyweight championship and was forced to vacate his international accolade. With the sure amount of impressive names that were selected for the tournament, it was making for great show views as well as heated competition. His wife was reluctantly watching the show beside him on the couch, but she leaned over and said something blunt.
Wife: Since when does IIW hire so many bald guys?
It was a keen observation, as the list was ever-growing for the number of superstars on the show who rocked the generic goatee or beard mixed with the bald head. Running his hand through his long, luscious golden hair, he laughed as he responded.
Jayce: I guess it’s a good thing that God has blessed me with this full head of hair that the female division would be jealous of. I don’t have a proper answer to that question, but I know personally, I guess, because Stone Cold did it. It made it that much more popular.
She also chuckled at his response in return as they both shifted focus back towards the television when they heard the name Shaun Hart being announced. Unless you live under a rock, you would have heard that Shaun has put together a group of misfits called The Mecca. Looking at the superstars he trusted the most in IIW, he started at the top with Joe Montouri. Along with Joe, he always turned to Fred Debonair, Bam Miller, and Xavier Lux, just to name a few. Needless to say, this group of individuals has been running the game for a while. With them all standing inside the ring during this segment, his wife had something to say.
Wife: Is this just a NWO rip off from WCW? How many fans thought Hulk Hogan was great and changed the landscape? I don’t think you need to get involved with this group because you are going to IIW for the fans, not to be against them.
She was speaking facts on facts. When Jayce signed with IIW, his only goal was to be a fan favourite and put together some classic matches. As he watched, the glow that was coming off Joe’s championship was mesmerizing. The way his presence controlled the wrestling ring was different than anything he'd seen before. Putting his bag of chips down beside him on the couch, he spoke softly to his wife, who was waiting for him to agree.
Jayce: Just because these other wrestlers look up to Joe like he's some sort of icon in professional wrestling doesn’t mean I will. In hindsight, The Mecca was a big brain idea and creation of Shaun Hart, but it was also hard for the members to ever step out of Joe’s shadow. The shadow he casts is bigger than any of these other members have ever seen. In my honest opinion, his boots could and never will be filled by any other member of The Mecca. Don’t get me wrong, the other members may be highly talented and respected, but they just don't have that same fire and passion.
Joe knew how to command the ring, as became evident as the footage continued to roll onward and upward. Just like he knew what camera to look at when he was talking, posing, or when the fans would allow him to speak, he knew exactly what to say. With the volume cranked up on the television, Joe said something that caught the attention of Jayce.
Joe Montouri: "First you get the money, then you get the muthafuckin, power."
It was a statement he made quite frequently when he spoke highly of himself, but it also made a lot of sense when he said it. His wife yawned after Joe finished speaking about his heavyweight championship reign and The Mecca.
Jayce: He's not that boring, though, right?
He caught her off guard with that statement, but she smiled when he said it, which could be a sign that she had something on her mind when she started speaking.
Wife: I am not saying he is boring or wrong at all, but I also think that you should just stay away from the Mecca and focus on that Legacy Championship for now.
She was right; who would have guessed it as The Mecca was gearing up for a battle of power against a team that Osh had assembled for Worlds Collide to try and shift the power back to his side of things and repent against them? It was a silent moment; the video was still playing before Jayce felt the need to address something.
Jayce: Don’t worry, Joe, my attention isn’t on you right now. Being new to the company, I will work my way up eventually, but for now, we have no heat between us. I didn’t come to IIW to hop on some bandwagon to chase the goal of destroying the Mecca; that’s just not in the cards shuffled into the deck. I would compare my game plan to Monopoly. I want to build my empire and collect as much money and accomplishments as possible in a long, drawn-out game.
Monopoly was a good game to refer to as it has everything mentioned by Joe: money, power, and properties that lead to one person having it all. Watching the other players claim bankruptcy and take out mortgages to survive the game is a rush on its own. She shifted her attention to Jayce after he spoke so highly about the board game.
Wife: Last time we played Monopoly, you got mad that I was winning and flipped the board in a fit of rage. It was quite funny.
It wasn’t one of his proudest moments, but that did in fact happen; she wasn’t lying about it, and it made him laugh. Mecca was no longer in the ring anymore on the footage from the DVR, and the show was ending. The matches had come and gone in rapid succession when he grabbed the remote for the television and turned it off.
Jayce: Are you really going to expose me like that? It was a very stressful game, and I am pretty sure that the little bald guy with the moustache felt bad for the pregnant lady. I saw the way his face looked on that community chest card with a winking emoticon.
She cut him off aggressively. Well, he was still speaking about the board game like it was a heated topic when it was all petty.
Wife: Calm down. I promise you, me and the Monopoly guy aren’t planning or plotting against you. Besides, you won that free cheeseburger at McDonald’s off the side of your cup.
Everyone in the world was aware that McDonald’s had a major promotion that would give away prizes if you gained certain properties. Along with the major prizes, they had many instant win prizes that would grant free food and drinks. Both of them were sitting in a silent room talking about McDonald's. Now he responded to her.
Jayce: I know you and him aren’t trying anything funny, or else I would put that midget in the hospital for good. I would hit him so hard that the moustache would be located a block away, but that would never happen, but it would be funny.
He had jokes now all of a sudden, but it had been a long day for the both of them, and it was great to see him breaking the mood. He stood up from the couch and walked over towards her, extending his hand to help her get up from the couch. With her being pregnant, regular tasks like getting up or down had become more difficult as the weeks turned into months. She smiled and thanked him for the help, followed up by saying.
Wife: It’s starting to get late. We should head to bed. You have to wake up early and pack for your trip to London for Worlds Collide. We only have a few days until your flight and plenty of things to do before you leave, so hopefully we can get an early start.
He wasn’t thinking much about it, but she was right before he knew he would be on a plane heading to London, a city he'd never been to before. Nervous yet excited to see a different culture and a different city, I wasn’t sure what to expect. They both walked out of the living room hand in hand as they continued to converse along the way to the stairs.
Jayce: I hope they have food I will enjoy. If not , it will be a long few days in London. I also haven’t been giving much detail on the hotel or events leading up to Worlds Collide.
She was confused but caught off guard because she was pretty sure London wouldn’t be that much different from Canada. She turned her head towards him and rolled her eyes before she replied to him.
Wife: You do realize you're not going to Japan or China, right? They will have food similar to what we eat here in Canada. I am sure you will find everything you need in London, and IIW will make sure they take care of you leading into the event. They seem like a company that cares deeply about their rostered talent. Also, remember that you promised me that since I am unable to travel, you would do some vlogs to keep me updated. I know you hate technology and hate doing it, but it would make me happy to see the journey along the way.
Technology and Jayce have never mixed well. Truth be told, he tried to use a computer once, and the mouse concept didn't compute with him. However, a promise is a promise, and he intended to keep it just to make sure she was left happy. Reaching the top of the stairs, he replied to her in a calm, gentle voice, but you could hear a slight frustration.
Jayce: You want me to try the cell phone thing again? You know I am not a fan of walking around in public with a phone pointed at me non-stop. If you really want me to record my journey, I will, not because I want to but because you asked me to. I would do anything to make sure you were taken care of, and if this helps you get through my not being around, then so be it.
The happy couple had made it to the top of the stairs, and both of them were exhausted from the day they had had. They entered the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind them, as this would be the last we would see of Jayce Carver and his wife for the night. The next time we see Jayce, he should be landing in London days before the Worlds Collide. It should be entertaining next week to see what more Jayce has to offer before his biggest match.
T.B.C
|
|
|
Post by Jayce Carver on May 18, 2023 21:20:41 GMT
Landing in London: Chapter 4
4.0: Vlogging
Holding his cell phone directly to his face, Jayce Carver pressed the button to begin recording his first ever vlog. With a smile present in his facial expression and his eyes widening in excitement, he began to welcome the viewing audience.
Jayce: Welcome to the first ever vlog about life on the road with Jayce Carver. I have just reached my hotel room in London after a lengthy flight. This was something like no other when I was still riding on the circuit. I stayed in motels inhabited by cockroaches. All they had was a single bed and a beat-down old-school television, but I wasn’t expecting this.
Panning his phone around the hotel room, you could visibly see a king-size bed covered in luxurious bedding, including sheets, blankets, and pillow cases. Along with the bed, it was also stacked with an in-house kitchen that had all the appliances needed: a microwave, a stove, and a full-sized fridge. On the other side of the room was a white leather couch and one of the biggest televisions he had ever seen. Breathless from the sight in front of him, it took him a few minutes before he continued on with his vlog.
Jayce: I guess it’s true what they say... Going from the outhouse to the penthouse is something that finally makes sense to me. When I was given my details and what hotel I would be staying in, I was far from expecting this kind of treatment, and it’s a true testament to how far IIW is willing to go to make their wrestlers feel comfortable.
After he finished the panoramic view of the hotel room, he walked his way over to the leather couch and took a seat. Soaking in the feeling of finally making it somewhere in the industry, he took a long, deep breath.
Jayce: I have to go out at Worlds Collide and make sure I put on the performance of my life to ensure that I can continue to live this life. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not about the money or the pampering; in the end, it was about making sure the fans got what they expected. When I was told about the Legacy Championship being debuted and competed for at Worlds Collide, it gave me plenty of motivation to work even harder. This is a giant leap for my career and could help turn my name into a common household name that each and every person knows in the wrestling industry.
You could see how serious he becomes when he mentions the Legacy Championship, hopefully a clear indication of his drive and willingness to compete. Holding the camera further back so he isn’t so zoomed in, he begins to speak again.
Jayce: It won’t be easy to fill the shoes of a champion in IIW, which is held to the highest calibre of expectations, but I am certainly ready and prepared for the challenge. I know the other superstars are going to be at peak performance and dreaming and hoping of doing the same, but I need to remain focused on the end result.
It wasn’t a long vlog as he hit the stop button, ending the recording, but then again, it was only his first one ever, and besides, there would be plenty more to come later down the road.
4.1: Room Service
About twenty minutes after he finished his vlog, he was sitting on the couch with his eyes closed, still restless from the flight. There was a sudden knock on the door that startled him just a bit since it was so unexpected. Standing up from the couch, he made his way over towards the door, wondering who it could possibly be, when he was greeted by the soft voice of a female.
Female: Hello, Mr. Carver... I was asked to bring you some food as we heard you had a long flight into London. My name is Mary, and I will be at your assistance as a room service specialist. Anything you need, just ask, and I will deliver.
Shocked again by the treatment in this hotel, he invited her in very professionally, as she was holding a metal serving dish. With his gentlemanly manners, he was very well spoken and polite when he addressed her in a positive voice.
Jayce: I really appreciate it, Mary. You can place that on the table if you would like it to look a little heavy. What exactly do we have? Hopefully it’s nothing to do with broccoli since I was young. I have had a hard time with it.
She laughed at his joke, even though it may not have been the funniest thing she had ever heard, but it was the polite thing to do. She sat the metal serving tray down on the table and lifted the lid to expose what looked like the most perfect-looking steak. It looked tender and juicy and had barbecue sauce dripping from the sides, as you can see from the mushrooms and onions on top. Beside the steak was a perfect scoop of mashed potatoes seasoned with salt and pepper, along with a side of corn on the cob. It all looked amazing and could potentially be some of the best-quality food. Without due time, Mary had begun speaking to him as he looked in awe.
Mary: The chef made this personally just for you, as he got wind that you were coming to stay in this hotel and wanted to make sure you felt at home. Here in London, we like to make sure all our guests are treated like family and welcomed. I have also been contacted by your boss from IIW, who said you need to be at this location by six o’clock but didn’t give me any more details.
She handed him a small, folded up piece of paper that had an address written on it, but that was all the information she had. Since this was his first time appearing in London, he wasn’t 100 percent sure where he was going but would figure it out. Thinking quickly, he asked Mary for directions or advice on how to reach his destination.
Jayce: Do you know what would be the fastest way to get me there? I can imagine that if IIW wants me to be there, it must be something important.
He was just taking his first bite of his meal and was relieved that the taste was better than he expected, and it showed on his face. He also noticed out of the left side of his eye that she was pulling out her cell phone to do some research to answer his question.
Mary: It seems you have two options: you could either take the subway two blocks from here or you could head to the tram station down the street and take that into the city. The subway would drop you off a block away from the address, and the tram would get you down the street from the address, so really, it’s up to you.
Mary had put her phone away. He continued his dinner. He weighed his options and made a decision. It wasn’t long before his plate was completely empty, leaving it without a crumb to indicate his appetite and appreciation for the cook. After excusing himself from the table as a polite guest, he began getting ready for his first journey into the busy streets of London.
Tram To Busy Streets: Chapter 5
5.0: Not Like Home
He stepped off the tram after experiencing it for the first time. He was a little motion sick, but nothing major he couldn’t handle. Finding his footing took a moment, but after finally having both feet back on solid ground, he stood streetside admiring the scene. It wasn’t anything like he had witnessed back in Canada, as the streets were heavily populated and stores were lined up and down both sides. He has always heard people speak about how London looks, but he never realized it would be something like this. He did remember that back at the hotel, Mary had told him he would only have to walk a short distance to his destination, but he was very unsure which way to walk. Being a Canadian in London, he wanted to ask for directions but wasn’t sure how he would be perceived. After standing on the street for several minutes, he decided not to waste any more time and managed to flag someone down.
Jayce: Excuse me, sir. I was wondering if you could help me out. I have some directions, but I am lost and unsure which way I need to venture.
The guy looked a little hesitant at first when he first laid eyes upon Jayce Carver, who was standing at about six feet tall and had visible muscles. That wasn’t even the part that stood out most, if you consider that he had that long blonde hair of his. The London native finally turned in his direction with a huge smile on his face as he responded.
London Native: Sure thing, mate... I know this city can be confusing, so let me take a look at those directions and point you in the right direction.
He was very gracious when Jayce handed the paper with the directions over to him to look over and show him the way. With his eyes moving up and down the paper, the man finally folded it up and handed it back as he spoke.
London Native: If you want to head down to the end of this street and make a left from there, you will walk halfway down that street and should be where you want to go. I'm just curious, though, with that accent, where are you from?
It was great that he gave him directions, but now he felt like he was stuck in a conversation with this guy and feared being rude to him when he was out of his element. He smiled out of politeness and spoke with a soft, gentle voice to make sure he knew he wasn't a threat when he responded.
Jayce: I am a Canadian...
Before he got to finish his sentence, the man stopped him with a common phrase that most Londoners are used to hearing.
London Native: Are you taking a piss?
This wasn’t a phrase he had heard, and he looked down to make sure the front of his jeans were still dry in fear he might have had an accident. The man had noticed he was doing it and started to laugh before letting him know.
London Native: That just means you are joking, not literally taking a piss. I forgot that not everyone has heard of these terms around the world. I knew from your accent you weren’t from around here, so what brings you to London?
It was nice that he was making small talk, but he also had a time constraint that he needed to follow to make sure he wasn’t late. Responding very gently and calmly, he responded without any angry tones to make sure he kept London from despising the Canadians.
Jayce: I am a wrestler and have my first match at Twickenham Stadium this weekend, which is great, but I am not famous. I am just the average wrestler in the opening match, starting the show off. I wish I could tell you I am a main event guy and to come watch, but I don’t get any free tickets to the event, unfortunately.
He laughed considerably, guessing he picked up on the joke that was spoken in the conversation. The London native once again pointed him in the right direction and told him he should get moving as the streets in London were quite lengthy.
5.1: Walk to Think
As he began his journey down the streets of London on his way to his destination, he pulled out his phone and pointed it at himself. It looked odd and uncomfortable, but he had also promised his wife he would get some footage here to keep her happy. The small portion of footage he took from the hotel room would barely be enough to make her smile, and he knew that. After hitting the record button on his phone, he began to take some more footage as he spoke.
Jayce: As you can see, London is insanely busy, and the stores are all packed together side-by-side down the entire road. When I say I am going to the shops in Canada, it’s usually just one big parking lot with a Walmart, a McDonald's, and if you are lucky, a Dollarama sneaks into the side.
It was hard for him to walk without staring at all the stores as he walked down the street, passing name-brand ads he only dreamed about. Walking past ads for brands such as Rolex, Gucci, and Versace, he was lost in the moment. With the IIW contract he signed, he knew he couldn’t afford these luxury items, not to mention that his son was going to be born very soon. His imaginative side was showing once again, and he forgot he was still recording when he said.
Jayce: One day that gold Rolex will be around my wrist.
He made a fist pump gesture after he finished saying that not only was it recorded, but now the eyes of the public were on him as well. This was the type of behaviour he liked to hide because he felt a little embarrassed now and his face was a shade of red. Knowing his wife was watching this, he knew he had to say something that wouldn’t get him in trouble for dreaming, so he followed up quickly.
Jayce: A guy can have dreams, right? I know I am not doing this for luxury items or a fortune. I am doing this to provide my son with everything he needs.
Hoping that would get him out of harm's way and the wrath of his wife when she watches the footage, she would take it as a joke. He continued to walk down the street, moving on towards his destination, when he continued to speak into the phone still aimed at him.
Jayce: I guess I should speak about today's activities, but the thing is, no one has given me any information about what I am working on today. It’s tough to walk into things blindly, but if IIW sets it up for me, I will give it a chance. The last time they had me go to a building with no details, it worked out in my favour, so I imagine this won’t be any different.
He reached the end of the street, where it was time to make a left. If the London native was right about his directions, it wouldn’t be long until he reached the spot. It wasn’t long before his phone was flashing red to indicate his battery was dying, the one thing he didn’t account for. Who would have guessed Vlogging would kill a battery so quickly as he wrapped things up.
Jayce: My battery is dying. I apologize, but I am just minutes from my destination. I will try to charge my battery later and give everyone another update, but no promises.
London Conference: Chapter 6
6.0: A Panel Like No Other
An old-fashioned London building stood tall in front of him, covered in all brick and having big stained glass windows like you would see in church. The sidewalk was all different-coloured cement squares that made it look high end. Still with absolutely no idea or clue what he was walking into, he took a deep breath and reached out for the door handle. Swinging the big wooden door open, he entered a lobby packed with what seemed like local Londoners. He approached the front desk, where a young lady was sitting with a smile on her face.
Jayce: Hello, my name is Jayce, and IIW sent me here but didn’t tell me why I was here. I was hoping you could give me more information.
She flipped through a sheet of paper she had in front of her, looking at names on the sheet, until she located the first name, Jayce, and spoke.
Woman: Jayce Carver, right?
Jayce: That’s my name, but why did they send me here?
She was confused about why he was here without any details, but she was kind enough to explain what was happening. Standing up from her seat, she walked around the front desk while speaking to him at the same time.
Woman: From what I have been told, you are in the right place. IIW has asked that you participate in a press conference for Worlds Collide so the universe can get to know you a little. I know this is quite sudden and unexpected, but they want to see how you handle unexpected events.
It was getting a little annoying that they kept testing him without giving him a heads up, but at the same time, he embraced the challenges. She guided him down the hallway, just past the lobby doors, and into a room. This room wasn’t big and only sat about two hundred locals inside, so it wasn’t that intimidating for him. On the other side of the room sat one table with only one chair, but what kind of press conference only has one person? With a confused look on his face, he asked her about that to see what kind of response he would get.
Jayce: Why is there only one seat? Every press conference I have ever seen always has multiple superstars involved, not just one.
She walked him down the left side of the room and gestured for him to take a seat as she spoke moments before they would go live.
Woman: It’s so much easier for them to put the pressure on you if it’s done individually and you're ready. These fans have a lot of questions for you. I suggest you try to be quick with your responses and show confidence; it will help you out.
She couldn’t be serious, could she? It was a nerve-wracking feeling knowing he would be all alone up there with everyone watching closely. At this moment, it was too late to turn back, and he would figure this out on the fly. When he was on the independents, these didn’t exist, but that wasn’t going to stop him from at least making an attempt.
6.1: Make It Count
Fifteen minutes had passed since he had been sitting on his seat at the end of the room and gazed upon the number of London locals piled into the room. A bald man with a goatee had entered the room and walked his way to the same side of the room as Jayce. He reached his right arm out, grabbed a microphone from the side of the table, and started speaking.
Man: First of all, I just want to thank London for having us here and allowing us to host the event this weekend.
The audience erupted with noise.
Man: That’s right. Let us see that energy, ladies and gentlemen.
They got even louder, which only helped drive the nerves into Jayce.
Man: At Worlds Collide, we will see, for the first time ever in IIW history, the Legacy Championship added to the mix of championships in the company. Sitting here today, we have the newcomer Jayce Carver, who will make his IIW debut with a chance to walk away with this pristine championship and the right to claim the first ever.
Giving the fans more to cheer about, the acoustics in this small, overfilled room were better than expected, as Jayce smiled at the end of the speech. The man nodded to indicate it was time for him to say something to them.
Jayce: First things first, London has shown me great hospitality since I have arrived here, and for that, I just want to say thank you. To even be considered for the Legacy Championship in this match was an honour for which IIW was willing to take a chance on a superstar they hadn't seen much of before. Ever since I started wrestling, my dreams and goals were always to make it into a company that was established, and here I am now. The feeling is still surreal, but once I get this first match out of the way, it will define my future here.
He was speaking from the heart and giving them everything he had as the noise of the crowd continued to ripple through the entirety of the room. The man took over the dialect from him once again as he continued to hype up the event.
Man: This is one of the biggest events IIW has held in quite a long time, as it will help establish the company as a major threat to the entire wrestling world. The Legacy Championship isn’t even the biggest match featured, as Team Osh will square up against Team Hart in a star filled battle between good and evil. A star studded event from top to bottom, it doesn’t matter if you open the show or close the show.
Jayce butted in when he started to speak again into the microphone.
Jayce: If you look up and down on this entire event, you see nothing but the best talent, all competing at the highest level of intensity. I have no other choice but to go out to that ring and produce not only the best quality match possible but also make sure I set the tone for the entire event. If we go out there and fail to produce in the opening match, the rest of the show feels flat. IIW has put that faith in me to accomplish what they are paying me for, and I never want to disappoint.
The fans were still going crazy, and most of them had been standing on their feet and no longer in their chairs as Jayce spoke. The man had continued without missing a beat to speak to the audience to keep the conference moving.
Man: We will open up the floor to questions, and please try to keep them directed to Jayce, as time is very limited today. We do have other superstars that will be arriving for their own conferences throughout the day. We will open the questions now. Please raise your hand, and I will have someone bring a microphone to you. Let's not create chaos, please, and thank you.
A little boy stood on his chair, trying to make sure he would be noticed as he had his hand extended as high as possible. The man pointed at the little boy as the technical helper walked over with the microphone and handed it to him.
Little Boy: Who would you credit as your main influence on the IIW roster?
It was a good question to start with that needed a little time before Jayce could respond. You could see him thinking about it. Smiling, he waited a few minutes before he responded to see how the crowd would react to what he said.
Jayce: Joe Montouri.
All he said was the name when the crowd already began reigning down with disapproval. It shows how many people hated Mecca. The room was so loud and overwhelming that he waited for the buzz to die down before he continued.
Jayce: You all hate him. I see, but hear me out for a second: It’s not always about being liked or hated in this industry. The way this man carries himself as a professional and the swagger he brings with it are on a different level. When he commands the ring, he also commands respect. When he speaks, everyone listens; it doesn’t matter if you agree or disagree with him; they still listen. He may not be on the most hated list, but he does it well, and no one can take that away from him. We may have opposite opinions and morals, but at the end of the day, we both want the best of the best. He wants to be at the top of the world, right? That is what every superstar dreams of doing, and that is what I want to do. Don’t get me wrong, Joe Montouri is playing for the other side of the team from where I stand.
The fans shift their attention back to positive noise.
Man: We will move on to the next question now.
A lady is standing in the middle of the room with her hand raised as the man points in her direction as the technician makes his way towards her. Handing her the microphone, everyone waits in anticipation for her questions.
Woman: First of all, nice to see you here in London. I just wanted to say... My question is about your opponents for the event. What do you think about them, and how do you feel going into this match?
We hadn’t heard much of his thoughts about his opponents, Matt Sheppard, Enigma, and Kenny Pryce, going into the match, but this time was as good as any. With a smirk appearing on his face, he leaned forward into the microphone and started speaking.
Jayce: Where should I start? All three individuals are unique in their own ways and have abilities beyond belief. I know when I walk inside that ring that I am going to have to work hard to walk away from that match with a broadened career. All of them are looking for the same outcome at Worlds Collide, but the issue is that there are four of us and only one championship and one winner. I plan to go out there and not only steal the show but also make a statement in the process. I am not doing this for myself; I am doing this for every single independent wrestler who dreams and hopes of doing the same thing. Look back at the history of professional wrestling and see that a lot of guys who work as independents don’t get this kind of opportunity. A lot of those guys never get a call from a mainstream wrestling organization and are offered a chance to debut on pay-per-view television. I am in a spot where I have a chance to make history in IIW and walk away with a championship in my debut match. Who else can really say that?
He was well spoken and chose his words wisely, as he knew that IIW would be listening and watching the press conference. It wasn’t long before another male looking to be in his teens had his hand up as the man who was hosting the press conference spoke.
Man: We will turn our attention to the man in the front row now.
Front Row: We all know the current plans for Jayce Carver in IIW, but would you also like to know what the future looks like and where you see yourself in the next year in IIW?
All these questions were good as they kept coming in at a rapid pace, but you could see Jayce taking a deep breath as the exhale was picked up on the mic. Moments later, he answered the burning question with such confidence and willingness.
Jayce: The first task is to get my first match done and over with and judge where and what I do next after that, which would probably be the most logical response. It’s always hard to speak about the future in this industry because so many things could happen throughout the course of the next few months. The only thing I am certain of is making sure everyone knows not only the name of Jayce Carver but also what I bring to the table in IIW. It’s very rare that a new superstar walks through the doors and gets noticed instantly, but over time he has the chance to build upon his name and career, and that's what I intend to do. I came here to establish myself as a main event threat and prove to the world that a hard-working Canadian can do anything he puts his mind to.
He finished answering the question, but trying to give short answers is hard when he has so much information to say. It wasn’t long until the bald man with the goatee spoke up again, but this time he was closing the conference.
Man: Unfortunately, we have run out of time with Mr. Carver and need to set up for the next superstar to make an appearance. Again, we would like to thank you all for having us in London this weekend and also for coming out today to see Mr. Carver.
A Long Day Ending: Chapter 7
7.0: Ring A Ding-Ding
It was later in the day, and hours had passed since his press conference, and he was feeling great about how it went. His phone was now charged as it sat on the coffee table in front of him in the hotel room on the white leather couch. It wasn’t long before he could hear the vibrations of the cell phone making a noise on the table. Only two people would be calling him this late in the day; one could either be his wife or the other IIW to give him more details. Picking up the phone off the table, he was quick to read the screen, which read "Beautiful," so he instantly knew it was his wife.
Jayce: Hey babe...
Wife: Hey, I haven’t heard from you yet, so I just wanted to make sure things are going well.
There was a slight silent pause between the two of them after they said their greetings, but Jayce carried on with the conversation.
Jayce: Things are going fine; I'm sorry I didn’t contact you sooner. Things have been a little hectic since I arrived in London. IIW set up a press conference for me shortly after I arrived to help promote the event. It should be airing on television in the next day or two for you to watch.
Wife: Not to mention the vlog footage of your journey, right?
He knew she would bring it up, and he went quiet, not sure what to say. He made a sighing noise over the phone but tried to cover it up with a cough. She knew right then and there that he was about to give her some reason for it.
Jayce: I was able to get some footage, which would have been more if my battery didn’t keep dying. I am hoping to get more footage during the event from backstage and prepping before I go to the ring for my match to give you more.
Wife: You didn’t check the front pocket of your luggage, did you?
Unaware of what she was talking about, he grabbed the phone and headed to the other side of the room, where his luggage was sitting. Unzipping the front pocket in fear, he reached his hand inside to pull out what was a backup battery for his phone. Speechless, he felt like he should have known that it was inside his luggage but didn’t.
Jayce: When did this get here?
Wife: I placed it in when you promised me you would vlog for me and figured you would have checked it before you boarded your flight to make sure everything in your bag was safe.
He smacked his forehead when she made this statement, and he made sure to sit the backup battery for his phone on the table in front of him.
Jayce: I guess I have no option but to make sure that when I get to Worlds Collide, I get as much footage as possible in the back. I still have to figure out my way around London to make sure I make it to the event, so recording during that might be hectic, so it's best I wait.
She was quiet on the other line.
Jayce: Are you alright, babe?
He asked, waiting for a response.
Wife: I am alright, just thinking about how much I miss you and hoping and praying that your match goes well and safely. The last thing we need right now is for you to get injured. It wouldn't help anything around the house.
He had to be safe in this match to ease her mind, but he also knew he would have to take risks if he wanted to capture the Legacy Championship. After thinking for a few minutes, he responded to her in a soft voice.
Jayce: No matter what happens, I am walking away from Worlds Collide unscathed and unharmed. I can promise that. When I go out there and get inside that ring, anything can happen. That is the risk we both love and hate, but one thing I do know is that I am safe.
He made some valid points as she cut him off.
Wife: I love you.
Without hesitation, he also replied.
Jayce: I love you too, but I also have to let you go. I have to get ready for bed. I have a feeling it will be a long couple of days for me.
The phone hung up after the two had said their goodbyes, and he closed his eyes and slipped into his imagination.
7.1: A Creative Mind
He was standing in the middle of the ring, and the bell had just rung with the sound of the crowd roaring throughout the arena in London. The referee was located in the middle of the ring with a smile upon his face as he raised Jayce’s hand in the air, and his theme song was playing in the background. It wasn’t long before a hooded figure entered the ring. Could this be another attack set out by Mecca? The hooded figure was holding the newly won Legacy Championship and was handing it towards Jayce, who seems to have just won. Now standing in the middle of the ring, crowned with the Legacy Championship, words were spoken when he heard.
Hooded Figure: You did it, kid...
The more he slipped into the state of imagination, the more his mind hopped around from winning the championship to battling dragons. This time I was approached by a man who was short and looked like a troll.
Troll: Thank you for saving our village master.
The unthinkable had happened. Jayce had fallen asleep on the couch when he was only meant to close his eyes for a second. All the running around and speaking had put him into a state of exhaustion, and it was finally time to get some sleep for the first night in his hotel room. With Worlds Collide only a few days away, all he could do now was sit and wait for the night to happen.
The End.
|
|
|
Post by Cash Money on May 19, 2023 7:42:21 GMT
imgur.com/a/1RltFZ0CHAPTER 3 | ABOVE THE NOISE & CONFUSION CAST: * Jack Shepard * Diane Shepard * Matt Shepard * Cohen Shepard * Stacy Shepard * Bronx Valesence * Makayla Moon *
I My hands are shaking, and I can feel the throbbing of my heartbeat in my temples. The adrenaline ebbs and the pain spikes. My vision is blurry partially from the pain and partially distorted by the sweat and blood dripping down my face. It brings back memories of my father. Memories of beating and wounds that have healed and the wounds that can never heal. Ghost of bumps and bruises long mended and cuts so deep that invisible wounds still ooze bile into my soul beneath the visible scars that have calloused over. The medic finishes his work and taps me on the shoulder to let me know I’m good to go. I stand and the world falls out from under me. My stomach and legs revolt –I am concussed. “Doc, I don’t feel so good.” I stumble and put out a hand to catch myself but instead fall face first into a locker along the walls of the narrow hallway. The medic helps me back to a seat and hands me a gatorade and a handful of tylenol. “Take these,” he says in a familiar voice. It’s the voice of Curt Connors, the butcher, the gallows builder, the man that sentenced my mother to die. “What?” I respond knowing that it can’t be Connors. Knowing that my mind is playing tricks. Trying to piece together a coherent narrative of fractured memories and current happenings. “I said take these, mate. Looks like ya took a nasty blow to the head, worse than I thought. You’re probably concussed Mr. Shepard. Make sure you take it easy the next few days, okay?” I can only nod in response. The medic is pulled away and I am left alone in my seat. I can feel my head bobbing up and down as the tylenol starts to take effect numbing the pain. The edges of my vision fade to black and the noise of the locker room is replaced by the low humming of the television in my parent’s living room. I can hear Dad hollering at Mom, “What the fuck Diane! You’re just giving up?” I can feel the tendrils of sleep wrapping around me. Pulling me. Dragging me. Forcing me to relieve a painful memory. “You’re fucking weak!.” This time my father’s voice is booming and I can hear my mother’s sobs. I want to scream out, tell him to stop, rush at him, hit him but when I try to move – black. “Jesus Christ on a cracker you certainly looked better last time I saw ya.” I’m pulled back to reality by a voice I can’t place. “Let me wipe your face, love. Jesus, Matt they really laid it in didn’t they.” The voice is smooth, silky and has a distinct Irish accent ’ “You know, before I traded in my stethoscope for a barbell and bike shorts I was quite the little EMT.” She says as she dabs at the leaking laceration on my head. “Makayla, right?” My words are slurred. I sound drunk. “In the flesh, love and a good thing too. You should probably avoid falling asleep for a while. Best to stay awake for a bit after a blow to the head in my experience. Give your marbles time to roll back into place and all that.”“Thanks.”“Don’t mention it. Least I can do for ya since you were so kind as to leave me a pair of tickets at the gate.” “Look at my southern hospitality paying off already. My mother would be proud.”“And he’s funny too, eh?” Makayla muses followed by a small laugh. “Total package, ma,am.” “Agreed. The accent doesn't hurt either if I’m honest. Like talking to a southern gentleman from one of those old westerns on the BBC.” “Appreciated but I’m not so su…” I’m cut off mid sentence by the shrieking cries of a shrill woman’s voice “MAKAYLA! There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”“Sorry, Sue. I just came back here to look for my friend Matt. He’s the one that left the tickets for us.” There is something in the way she says friend and ticket that causes Sue’s face to brighten. “ Oh really! Well it’s nice to meet you Matthew but we really must be going. Our ride is here.”Makayla and Sue share a knowing glance and before I can do anything to stop it Maykala has leaned over and plated one on me. Then the two of them are up and off giggling to one another as they go. Laughing and carrying on with a carefree attitude that I haven’t felt in my entire life, especially now. I lean back in my seat. The stupefying feeling fleeting, being replaced by guilt and panic. Of course I didn’t mean to lead this poor woman on but I also saw what was happening and didn’t stop it in its tracks. Closing my eyes I remember how beautiful Stacy looked on our wedding day, I remember my vows, I remember our first time, and or last time, I remember. “Fuck.”“Fuckin’ eh, more like it!” My day dream is broken by another familiar voice but this one I can place instantly. “Bronx!”I stand and embrace my old friend. “I wasn;t expecting to see you so soon, brother.”“Plans changed big guy, y’know ‘ow it is. And it’s a good thing they did. What the fuck was dis nonesense o you gettin’ attacked backstage? Where is dat son of a bitch at? Let's say you and I give the ol’ Harlem Handshake, if ya know what I’m sayin?"“I don’t know where they are and it’s good for them I don’t. Fucker stiffed me good. I got a receipt for him when the time comes.”Bronx laughs and slaps me on the back. “Good on ‘em, Matty. How are things?”II
“Are you ready to talk about it, Diane?” Jack Shepard’s voice is uncharacteristically meek. It's been nearly two weeks since his wife Diane received news from her oncologist that she has cancer. Both Jack and Diane have been moving through their home like ghosts, not talking, barely even acknowledging each other. Both are afraid to speak for fear of saying the wrong thing. “I don’t know, Jackie.” Diane Shepard doesn’t look at her husband when she answers. She is looking at the moon through the window and wondering about all the days lived that lay behind her and the few that lay before. She has been wholly unresent since Doctor Connors delivered the news that she was dying, Lost in the past and future, unable to face the truth of the moment. “I know you’re scared Diane, I’m scared too. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or say to get you to talk to me. It’s like i’m living with a fuckin’ ghost.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Jack regrets them. “Diane… I’m sorry… I didn't mean it like th…” but it's too late to apologize – the damage is done. Diane turns to face her husband with tears in her eyes. “I feel like a fuckin’ ghost, Jackie. I feel like there is a weight sitting on my chest and I can't catch my breath; not even for a second. It’s like my life is happening in slow motion and fast forward at the same time. I’m worried about you and Matt and a million other things. I’m so fucking scared that I can’t sleep or eat, or even go to the bathroom. I just… I just don’t …ugh…” Diane trails off into a deep sob and buries her head in her husband’s shoulder. Jack wraps his arms around his wife and squeezes her softly. “We will get through this baby. I’m sure there is something we can do. A treatment, a medecine, something – anything. We can go see a specialist in Atlanta. We have good insurance. We have options. There has to be some…” Diane cuts Jack off mid sentence. “I’m not interested in any of that. Doctor Connor’s already gone over it with me. He said that there are treatments but no cures and that I would end up spending my last few months in pain hooked up to a bunch of machines. I don't want to go out like that, Jackie. I don’t want Matt to see me like that.” Diane’s voice is soft but firm. It’s clear that her mind is made up. “What do you mean you don’t wanna go out like that, fighting?” Jack pushes his wife off his chest and looks deep into her eyes. There is pain in them, fear, but also defiance. Diane doesn't speak – she doesn’t need to. “What the fuck Diane! You’re just giving up? You’re just gonna let yourself die without a fight? What about Matt, what about me?” Jack stands in an explosion of rage and clears the room in two steps. His soul is on fire and he needs the space between them to come down. When Diane tries to defend herself, tries to speak, he explodes again. “I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses Diane. This isn’t some noble crusade. You’re giving up your life and your family in some attempt to have… what… dignity? Come on, we both know there is no dignity in dying. That's just a lie the weak tell themselves to justify giving up. Is that what you are Diane are you’re fucking weak?."Diane wants to be angry, wants to feel the urge to run across the room and pound her fist against Jack’s chest but the rage never comes. All she feels is hurt, sad, and alone. She knows that Jack doesn’t understand what it’s like to be handed a death sentence. To know that no matter what you do or how hard you fight, that you are destined to lose. “I’m sorry Jack.” Is Diane's only reply delivered without lifting her gaze to meet her husband's searing stare. “Excuse me? You’re sorry? Well la-dee-fucking-duh Diane. I don’t want to hear you’re sorry, I want to hear that you’re going to put up a goddamn fight.” The air between them grows hot, fueled by rage and fear and guilt. It’s clear to Diane that her husband wants to have it out. That he is willing to say and do whatever he has to say and do to change her mind. She knows that right now, Jack, in all his pain and confusion will say hurtful and manipulative things, that he will lie, and that he might even use physical force if he thought it could help. But, she also knows none of that is going to make a difference. She isn’t going to sacrifice a good time for more time. “Fuck this shit.”Diane’s refusal to engage is not enough to smother the fire building in Jack's chest. He grabs his jacket, keys, and hat and leaves their home, slamming the door behind him. Diane can hear the screeching of tires and smells rubber burning before she finally hangs her head to cry. ... ... ... ... ... ... "M-Mommy?"
III “Things have been good, Bronx. Couple hiccups like Cohen getting in some fights at school and stuff but overall I’ve been liking it. I mean, I miss home like crazy but the truth is I feel a lot safer over here. Feels like a safer place to raise my family, ya know? No shooting on the evening news, cops not beating the shit of black people on the regular, stuff that was common back home in Georgia just doesn’t seem to happen as often here.”“Bro, I know what you mean. Shit is getting bad back home. Feels like it could hit the fan at any minute.”
Bronx takes off his sunglasses and sits next to me and puts a hand on my knee. I know bad news is coming. The only time I’ve ever seen Bronx take off his glasses is in the ring or to deliver bad news. “No easy way to say this Matt but ECWF got bought out by some company up in Galveston. We’re done. Well, I’m done. Once I finish up this last show in Liverpool on Friday, I’m out on my ass. Fuckers didn’t even pay for travel back.” “Shit Bronx, I’m sorry. I know ECWF was your baby.”“It is what it is. No use in cryin’ over spilled milk… is it spilled or spilt? Ahh, who-da-fuck cares. You know what I mean.”I nod without saying anything. Bronx looks at the floor and then back to me. There is something on his mind. “Matt, I know it’s a big ask cause you’re new here but you think you can put in a good word for me with the brass? Just until I can get some bookings back home. If you can’t, no hard feelings, but I would really appreciate it. The whole sale really caught me off guard. Financially, I ain’t ready.”I can’t stifle the smile. “Hell yeah, I’ll put in a good word for you man. Least I can do for the guy that gave me my entry into the business. Plus, I could use someone watching my back going into Worlds Collide so there isn’t a repeat of what happened tonight.”Bronx leans over and wraps one arm over my shoulder to give me an old fashioned side hug. I’m happy knowing I can do a solid for my friend and thankful to have someone watching my back going into Worlds Collide but what happened with Makayla earlier is still weighing me down. I know I have to do something to set her straight before it all blows up in my face. “So, what are you thinking Matt? Tag-Team?” Bronx asks with a smile on his face interrupting my self loathing. “Nah man, I need a manager. Someone to help pump me up and watch my back. A heater, ya dig?”“I dig it baby! I dig it deep!”“Let's introduce you to Shaun.”IV Mommy and Daddy have been acting strange. There used to be a lot of smiling and laughter in the mornings before Dad would leave for work but the last few weeks have been different. There is no laughing, no jokes, and no smiles. There is nothing but Mom and Dad sitting at opposite sides of the table. No one talks. It makes me sad. Tonight, there is lots of talking. So much that it woke me up! I have a secret hiding spot in my room, behind the rocking chair mom and dad used to rock me to sleep in when I was a baby, where I can hear everything happening in the house. I go there and press my ear to the wall, something strange is happening. Mommy and Daddy are arguing. They're using loud voices, and I don't feel excited anymore, I feel scared. I can hear Mommy's voice, shaky and sad. Daddy's voice is loud and angry. They're saying things I don't understand, that don’t make any sense. I feel my chest getting tight and tears building in my eyes. I don’t like the things Dad is saying to Mom, he's cussin’ and calling her names. He knows that’s not nice. I would get in a lot of trouble If I talked that way. I hold my stuffed lamb, Lamby Lambertson, close to my chest. I don’t want to cry, but I don't know how to stop the tears from coming. The argument goes on, and it makes my tummy feel funny. I wish they would stop. I wish we could go back to when we laughed and played together. Mommy's voice gets quieter, like a whisper. I don't know what she's saying, but Daddy's voice is getting louder. He sounds really mad. I squeeze Lamby tighter, trying to make the bad feelings go away. I wish I hadn’t woken up. I wish I didn’t hear Dad holler at Mom and call her mean names. I wish things could be like they were before. Suddenly, I hear a loud noise, Dad’s feet pounding across the floor. Daddy's voice is gone. Mommy is crying now, and it breaks my heart. I want to run to her, to tell her it's okay, but I'm too scared. I'm scared of what's happening and what might happen next. Dad says it's wrong to hit girls but he also says it's wrong to call names and he has already called Mom names. I peek out from my hiding spot and see Daddy storming towards the front door. He looks so angry, his face all red. He looks like the Kool-Aid man if the Kool-Aid man wanted to beat someone up. I watch as he grabs his keys and slams the door shut behind him. The noise makes me jump, and tears start flowing. Mommy collapses onto the couch, sobbing. I can't stand it anymore. I can't bear to see her like this. I gather all the courage I have and slowly make my way to her side. "M-Mommy?" I sniffle, rubbing my tears away with the back of my hand. She looks up, her eyes full of tears, but she tries to smile for me. "Oh, Matty," she whispers, her voice shaky. She pulls me into her arms, holding me tight. "I'm so sorry you had to hear all of that."I bury my face in her chest, inhaling her familiar scent. "It's okay, Mommy. Don't cry, please."
She hugs me even tighter, kissing the top of my head. "You're such a brave little boy, Matty. I love you so much."I feel a mixture of sadness and relief. I don't understand why Mommy and Daddy are fighting, but I know that they love me. I wish they could love each other too. V “Hey, babe. What kind of Olive Oil do you want? I don’t recognize any of these brands?”
Stacy comes to me, keeping one hand on the push bar of the shopping cart in which Cohen is sitting, playing with some toys while we do the Saturday afternoon grocery shopping. She puts the other hand on my back and peeks around my shoulder to look at the two bottles I’m holding. “Get the one in the yellow bottle. It’s two dollars cheaper and you get a little more.” “Pounds Hun. They call ’em pounds over here.” I say gleefully.“Right.” Stacy responds while rolling her eyes so hard that I imagine she can see her own brain . “They also don’t talk smart to their wives over here. Maybe you should try that custom next.”“Uh huh, sure thing. Right after I gain a stone of muscle.”We both laugh. We’ve been trying hard to adjust to life here in Britain but we still have those old fashion Americanisms in the back of our brains. Like holding on to the shopping cart so no one kidnaps our son, and making fun of the British,. We probably should stop that later since Stacy and I are technically foreigners now. “I’m gonna take Cohen to go look at some of the cereal. Meet me in the Produce, okay?” “Sure thing, babe. I'll grab the bread and meet you both over there in a few.”Stacy takes the cart and turns the corner to the cereal aisle. I look back down and realise I never put either of the bottles of Olive Oil into the cart before she left. I guess I’ll just have to carry it with me. I head to the back left of the store where the bread is and grab a loaf of wonderbread off the shelf. I take a moment and contemplate getting something freshly baked but decide against it, Stacy and Cohen will appreciate having something familiar. “Small world, eh?”I turn, coming face to face with Makaya Moon. I swallow hard. I haven’t seen her since the night she planted a kiss on me. In fact, I’ve been avoiding going to the gym so I wouldn’t bump into her, until I had time to figure out how to let her down. “Well, it’s a smaller country than the U.S. that's for sure.” Real smooth Matt. “Haven't seen you around the gym. Been worried that the blow to the head took you out. How have you been feeling?”“Good. Doc says I got my bell rung but there isn’t any reason for me to miss this week’s big show. Plus a pla from back home is moving over here for a stint to work with me Should be a lot of fun.”“Right on. When you coming back to the gym? Miss seeing you walk around in those little booty shorts.”I can feel myself turn red. I laugh because I don’t know what else to do. “Actually plan on heading over there later on today.” It’s a lie but she doesn’t know that. I smile and she moves forward placing her hand on my chest. It feels intimate – it feels wrong. I try to speak but my throat is dry and I manage nothing more than a croak. Makayla is moving closer, perhaps for another kiss. “Matt, what's taking’ so long? Cohen is getting fussy.” Stacy calls from the other end of the aisle. It feels like the entire world has fallen out from under me. I’m falling. Without thinking I quickly excuse myself and put a good three steps between myself and Makayla. “Look I got to run. My boy needs me. See you ‘round the gym.” I don't stop to listen to what Makayla says in response. The feeling of falling is still with me. It’s the same feeling you get on roller coasters, the momentary suspension of gravity. My stomach turns — I want to vomit. I feel as if I’ve been caught masturbating to the sear catalogue in the bathroom by my Grandmother over Christmas Break. Except, this is much worse. “Who was that, Mat?”“Oh just a fan that recognized me from a how. No big deal, it happens.” Why am I lying to her? I should just come clean - the truth shall set me free. “Nothing to worry about, babe.” Of course there is nothing to worry about… then why say it…. Why put that thought out there…. Why plant that seed of doubt in my wife’s head? “She certainly looked friendly.” I can see the roots forming in my mind. A flower, perhaps a black thorn bush, full of prickles, full of hatred, full of doubt has taken root in my wife's mind. I should have put this to bed the moment it started. I should have told Makayla I was married. I should have stopped her from kissing me. I should have done something ,anything, and I should have done it before now. “Stacy, she's just some girl from a show. Promise. You’re the only one I’ve got eyes for. You know that, right?”“Mhmm.”“I’m sorry.” “Ok.”It doesn’t feel okay and as the day goes on that feeling only grows. Stacy doesn’ talk to me for the rest of the day. I feel like there are two ghosts haunting the same house , like we’re just going through the motions. It reminds me of Mom and Dad in her final few weeks of life. How they would walk around home without speaking to each other to avoid causing a fight. I hate feeling like my father. I hate that I could do something that would cause Stacy so much pain that she can't even bring herself to speak to me. Most of all, I hate the fact that even after all that I’m still thinking about Makayla at all. VI The locker room is no more than a dimly lit storage closet with dark blue lockers along one wall and an antique wooden bench in the middle. I’m deep in my Cash Money persona doing my best to portray a rugged and determined piece of shit. I’m sitting on the old wooden bench, nursing the wounds from last week's backstage assault. Bronx Valesence, acting as my charismatic and sharp-tongued manager, paces back and forth, his New York swagger unmistakable. The tension is palpable. Bronx leans against a locker and crosses his arms. ”Cash Money, my man, you know I've seen it all in this business. The ups, the downs, the blood, sweat, and tears. But what happened to you last week, my friend, that was downright despicable. Some low-life scumbag thought he could take you out backstage and mess with your dreams? Well, let me tell you something, you schmucks: Bronx Valesence is here now, and you won't get away with none-a-dat shit no more.”I clench my hand into a fist and point one finger right into the camera. “Yeah, Bronx, they thought they could break me, take away my chance at the championship. But they made a big mistake. They pissed me off. They really thought they could rattle me, throw me off. Laughable.All they did was make me angrier, hungrier, and more focused than ever before. This Sunday, it's payback time, Max Stone and the rest of these soft handed mother fuckers are gonna find out that Cash Money doesn't back down from anyone!” “That's right, bay-bey. These fools need to understand that they messed with the wrong guy. They underestimated just how sadistic you really are. But now, they're gonna know. Now they're gonna wish they hadn’t. It’s time for e the boys here in IIW to face the consequences of their actions. This Sunday, when you step foot in that ring, they'll feel the fury, the wrath, and the mudhole stomping boots of Cash Money. They won't know what hit 'em! They ain’t fuckin’ ready, bro.”
“Look in my eyes and listen to what I’m about to tell you. Stone, Pryce, Carver – this is my time. This is my opportunity to grab what I've worked so damn hard for. I’m not about to let any of you stand in my way.”“You better believe it! We're not just gonna win that championship; we're gonna dominate that ring! Those other three jabronis? They're nothing compared to you, Cash. They'll be crawling back to their mama's basement, crying for mercy when they finally realize who they’re fuckin’ with.” I nod along approvingly with what Bronx is saying. “This week I've got Bronx watching my back and he's got eyes everywhere. If anyone tries to pull a stunt like last week, they'll be dealing with Bronx and his connections. I'm not saying he’s mobbed up but I also ain't gonna deny it. Let's just say this, we're a force to be reckoned with, and IIW better be ready for the hell we're about to unleash!”“Damn right! They won't see it coming. We're gonna leave 'em speechless, lying flat on their backs lookin’ up at the roof of the church. Just like my boy DMX used to say. And then, when that final bell rings, and the dust settles, you'll be standing tall, the new IIW Legacy Champion.”“It's time for me to live up to the promise I made when I stepped into an IIW ring for the first time. I told everyone that I’d take what I want, from who I want, when I want it. This Sunday I’m gonna prove I'm the real deal. That I’m a man of my fuckin’ word. I'm coming for that title, boys. No more setbacks, no more distractions. This Sunday, I'm taking what's rightfully mine, and no one can stop me!”(fin)
|
|
|
Post by Enigma on May 19, 2023 14:49:48 GMT
Kenny Pryce. Out of the three unknowns in this little melee of ours, you and I seem to have the most in common. Your start in the company was quite the opposite of mine, though, wasn’t it? Devastating loss after devastating loss. It felt as though you could not gain traction until you came up against Miss Pain. I know some are calling that an upset, saying that you snatched that victory from the jaws of defeat. Others might see a little deeper, see the desperation that fuelled a man on the precipice of an unstoppable downward spiral. Ah, but now we are reversed. You, fresh off a win that you can crow from the rooftops. Me, still tender from one of the toughest losses ever. I know, my friend. I know that one loss isn’t a streak. Losing to Mac Bane, it is almost a rite of passage in this business. I am among some pretty impressive names on that list. Just like your losing to Matt Shepard was not the end of your career.
Both of these things can be avenged. Neither have to be our definitions.
I know what it feels like to have a shadow hanging over you. To feel as though you will never distance yourself from that legacy, from that thing that got your foot in the door, allowed you to skip the line when there were so many others who were just as capable. It should have been a safety net, a cocoon to allow you to develop naturally. It should have been a parachute to carry you back to solid ground after you leapt into the deep end. Instead, it got tangled around your neck, became a noose that did its best to choke the life from you. No, I am not clairvoyant; not spying on you. I recognize the look. Know intimately what that sort of desperation tastes like, bitter and sickening, like old blood in your mouth from a wound you cannot for the life of you leave alone.
I know what a strategic retreat feels like, too. You tell yourself it was necessary, a need to tend to the wounds before they grew infected. And now, look at this! You are back. Triumphant on the go-home. Handpicked for this unique opportunity. You must feel like you won the lottery.
I am sure Jayce Carver feels the same. A title shot in his debut? That must truly stick in the craw of Matt Shepard, the man who ranted and raved like a child that the red carpet wasn't rolled out at his arrival. Heaven forbid you have to prove yourself before an opportunity is granted. But then, the powers that be clearly can't agree on a single thing. Why else would they be stepping into the ring to settle their differences? In the meantime, the unworthy and untested kick off the show. No pressure, boys. Happy to teach you how to set the tone. Been doing this for a hot minute, after all.
Clarity. A hell of a thing, isn’t it? I guess being self-aware is only a scary concept when you are talking about the Skynet machine revolution or the child-like AI who is now reviewing content on social media for our profession – I digress. Eventually, if you live long enough, you will evolve. You grow and mature, throw off those childhood blinders as you take those first tentative steps in the adult world with peripheral vision for the first time. You see ahead, surely. But you see side to side for the first time. You see front and back, all around and now you begin to see things taking shape because of what you do – cause and effect.
For the first time, you realise that actions have consequences. Oh, yes. They definitely do. ━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━ Rock Hill, NY ||| May 11, 2023 (off camera)
“...at the end of the day, he’s family.” “You owe him nothing.” The two thoughts had been at war for weeks now, tearing his mind apart. Loyalty had been programmed into him, a poor and manipulative surrogate for the love he’d craved so much as a child. He hated that every step out from under that shadow had been the cruellest illusion – the darkness had come at the worst time, blotting out his light. The so-called LIBERTY that he had celebrated, that he had latched so hard onto that championship of the same name as proof positive that his narrative had changed had gone up in smoke. The hatred was poisonous, the taint growing deep in him like a cancer. He could feel it percolating in his guts, this twitching and writhing ball of lead, growing bigger. Sev Yurievich hadn't slept since returning from Manchester, not with his body still aching from the loss to Mac Bane – not to mention his wounded pride. He'd been holed up in the basement gym for the last thirty-six hours, stewing in silence besides the music that flooded the room from the hidden speakers. This was and had always been his sanctuary, his salvation. Pushing his body to the limits made sense, was the one constant he had always been able to control, even when the rest of his life was utter chaos. Now even that seemed to have lost its lustre. He was forcing it now. Making his body obey even as it protested. He was painfully aware of the time that had passed, the number of days it had been since he’d returned from the second round match to find a familiar face in an unexpected place. At this point, almost exactly seventeen days, down to the second. A little more than two weeks since he’d been informed that the man who’d gotten him into the business, the one who had paved the way for his career lay dying in a hospital bed. The number seventeen seemed to be haunting him now, popping up everywhere and a part of him saw that as a sign from the universe – he wasn’t quite sure what it meant yet, but the feeling still burrowed its way into his head. Nox Arcana’s Transylvania blasted through the sound-proofed room; his favourite album transformed to soothing white noise as he pushed the weights towards the ceiling, feeling the burn as his arms shook. Sweat pooled beneath his back, dripping over the sides of the bench to soak into the carpet – he didn't notice. This was the part of professional wrestling that he knew the best, the part that could never let him down: the build towards the next match. The careful plan he always enacted to a tee, driving his body onwards to the pinnacle of perfection. In the few hours before the card for Worlds Collide had been announced, he had been willing to consider the idea that coming to IIW was a mistake. When the flight had landed and he’d learned about the Legacy Championship match, he’d almost danced for joy. Now that moment of doubt felt like a fever dream, absolutely absurd. He forced his arms straight again, white-knuckled on the hand grips. Sweat dripped down his furrowed brow, stinging his eyes, despite the blast of cool air coming from the vents. He was working himself hard, like he always did. Breathing like a bellows, snarling like the MONSTER he claimed to be, he forced himself to push the bar up one last time. The music reached a frenzied crescendo, accompanied by the guttural growl that burst from between his clenched teeth as he let the bar fall with a clang of finality. Silence fell heavily as the music faded away and he laid there for a moment longer with his eyes closed, trying to remember how to breathe. It took a moment for it to register, for him to realise the album hadn’t looped back to the beginning. He was aware of her presence before she said a word. Although he'd never barred her from being in here, she usually stayed away when he was going this hard – she'd always had a sort of superstitious respect for his routine. Her timing was impeccable, as always; she had cut the music herself. His wife Lauren-Jane stood in the doorway with a bowl in one hand. He knew without looking that it very likely contained his favourite blood orange-flavoured Greek yogurt, sprinkled with flax and chia seeds. In the other, she held a bottle of water, chilled so that the plastic was already cloudy with condensation. He could see her clearly in the reflection from the mirrored wall. In the silence, she could hear him breathing heavily, even before she saw his chest heaving when she rounded the rack of weights. Feeling her stomach clench at how exhausted, how positively haggard he looked, she forced a smile. “Time for a break,” she announced, forcing a bright tone. He agreed with a grunt but didn't move or turn his head in her direction. Now that he’d stopped, had let the adrenaline fade a little, he could feel the weight of the exhaustion. “You are right.” She set the snack down on the table next to the crumpled towel and the bowl of lukewarm water that used to be full of ice. She kept her back to him, trying to keep her tone neutral and the worry off her face. “Maybe you should give it a rest for a few hours, come lay down with me? Our little mouse has been especially active today – I think she’s planning to be an acrobat at this rate. We’ll have to call Cirque du Soleil.” She laughed at her own joke then winced as she turned around, resting her hand against the small of her back. He breathed out slowly, not really even sure he could move. “I am done,” he hesitated for a split second before adding, “I promise.” With effort, he forced himself to sit up straight, closing his eyes against the black specks that danced through his vision. Her hand gently rested on his shoulder, fingertips tracing the tattooed veins even as she avoided the blooms of purple and green – Bane’s handiwork. He groaned when she probed at his neck, feeling the knots of tension there. He scooted forward at the gentle pressure from her hand, that nudge telling him what to do. Even though she was uncomfortably pregnant, she still eased herself behind him on the bench – she didn’t care that he was soaked in that sour sweat of defeat. Her fingers slipped under the sodden muscle tee he had on, tugging it up so that his bare back was visible. She could see more bruises there, ragged imprints from being whipped into the barrier like road rash stripes. “Oh, Sev. Here. Let me help.” He could hear the quaver in her voice, knowing without looking that there were tears in her eyes. He bowed his head, biting his lip as her fingers found the worst of the knots, working them loose. Months earlier, she’d have been with him, would have tended to his ageing body in the moments after the match, before the worst of it could settle in. He wondered what she thought of the damage Bane had left behind. In time, it would fade. In time, they would forget. “I had ice delivered when you were gone. The chest freezer’s full. I could draw you a bath. Have a nice soak with those epsom salts you like.” The thought of her lifting those heavy ice bags in her condition brought the shame roaring up from the depths he’d stuffed it down into. How could you be so selfish? “No,” he replied quickly, “you should be resting. Not ministering to a broken fool–” “I wouldn’t call you either of those things.” Her reply was quicker, the smile he saw on her lips almost tender as he turned his head to meet her gaze. “No?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness in check, his eyes locked on hers as he searched her expression for further clues. One hand lifted to his jaw, scratching beneath the beard that was starting to get a little unruly – hadn’t he just shaved a few days ago? Time seemed to be rushing through his hands at breakneck speed and she clearly saw something in his expression that made her brow furrow. “Out with it,” she said, “I know there’s something weighing on your mind.” His mind? No. It was his soul. The very core of his being felt like it was being ripped in two directions at once. Loyalty had once been his strongest suit. The thing he was known for. How could be turn his back on the one who had made all of this possible in the first place? He was a wreck. The loss to Bane had been partly due to this preoccupation, he knew. He had not been able to dig down, to find it in himself to finish the job, despite taking the man to the absolute limit. They won't remember you for that, dummy. They'll remember that you failed. You couldn't get it done against one man. What makes you think you can take on three, two of which are HALF your age? Just give up. Walk away. The voice of condemnation sounded like PYRO. Even with him gone, the abuse still remained. He was doing it to himself now. At this point, probably everyone knew he was coming unglued. He could barely keep up the pretenses of a social media presence, having to resort to scheduled posts days in advance to make himself seem more active. It was only a matter of time before they would come down on him for that. For being a failure at the most basic of things. “Big match coming up, too. Is that what all this is about?” He shook his head. “No. Not that.” Again, the silence fell between them, like a physical thing she wanted to choke the life out of. The look on his face though, she recognized that well enough. Knew it quite well from her own dysfunctional upbringing. “It’s about him, isn’t it?” The man wasn’t even dead yet and his ghost was already haunting them. LJ hated him with a passion, wanted to take herself up to the hospital and give the man a piece of her mind. If she wasn’t literally days away from having their first child, she might have already done so – the feeling of righteous fury so strong thanks to those raging hormones. Every new thing she learned about Pyotr Vladimirovich, the more she loathed him. Her husband’s silence spoke volumes and she reached out to gently touch his cheek. “Talk to me. Please?” The elephant in the room may as well have been painted neon pink and been dancing on a pedestal for how obvious it was. Nodding, Sev sighed. “You would think that after all this time, after hating him for so long, I would be able to walk away clean. I thought the ties were severed. And now...” he shook his head. “You want closure?” “Yes.” He considered it for a moment, “and no. The thought of that confrontation? I do not relish it. A large part of me would rather show up the moment he has taken his last breath and passed on. Bear witness to the end so that I know it is truly over. Piss on his grave for good measure.” “You know what Dr. Shelley told me? Closure is an illusion. A scam. We think it’s something necessary, that the door has to be closed properly. Barricaded. Boarded up after so that it’ll never open again. And none of that is true. What you need to do is accept what happened, Sev. It’s part of what makes you... YOU. It’s part of the story – OUR story. You don’t need to close that door forever. You don’t need to burn the book now that the pages are full and we’re on to another volume. You can just accept it, close the book. Put it on the shelf and let it rest, collect dust while we move on into the future.” “Dr. Shelley is a wise woman,” he replied, seeing the sheen of tears in his wife’s eyes. He knew that little speech was meant for herself just as much as for him. “She is. But you know I’m right.” “My head knows,” Sev murmured, “but my heart does not want to listen.” She knew at that moment, without him saying another word, that he was going to do as requested. He was going back to the city, back to NYC to go and see his former partner before the man passed. She just hoped it didn’t do more damage than good. The last thing she wanted was for Sev to blow this championship opportunity because that venomous snake had poisoned him again. They had made such progress over the last year. To backslide now would be the worst possible thing. If that happened, she swore she would put that asshole in the ground herself. To hell with the cancer devouring him from within. The sooner he was six feet under, the sooner her husband could finally let the past go and embrace their future. ━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━ ...and I believe in destiny. I believe there are no accidents. I believe that I am here, in this company at this moment in time, for a reason.
I know that three matches with the company in a tournament that invited outsiders does not make me one of the “boys”. Letting Mac Bane smear my body fluids around the ring before exacting a pound of flesh to take into the next round doesn’t ingratiate me with any of you, I’m sure. Not when he plans to write Maverick Tatum out of the narrative altogether. Prophecy is about to be fulfilled.
Funny how that goes. Someone said that they saw me with championship gold come Worlds Collide. I thought that ship had sailed upon my elimination. Wouldn't it be wild if both myself and Mac walked away with gold, after all? The two most capable, pulled here by a common denominator in our esteemed world champion, JMont. Think about what that would look like, how dominant the Mecca could truly be.
I did not foresee this happening. Suddenly, what felt like going through the motions to keep my head above water has become something else entirely. I see a clear future full of concrete plans, full of the kind of bookings I had only dreamed of short years ago. Maps, plans, calendars full of tentative dates – I have them all now. My life, all tracked to the moment, perfectly ordered and I find this much more appealing than fear and uncertainty. Where will I be on the 21st of the month? Twickenham Stadium in London. Days pass, and the emptiness subsides. I have things to do, places to be. Until then, a holding pattern..
The fact that we are moving towards the same destination helps, the fact that a new chapter has begun fills me with wonder and the simple realization that I’m not alone anymore is still baffling to me. I always thought it was better to be alone with my thoughts, with my cold hard facts. Somehow those made me feel better. Tending my collection of random facts like a garden, waiting for a harvest that never came because I was silenced over and over again. This is why I struggle to turn the words off. This is also why I seek to find a parallel, a common ground for us to make a connection. It isn’t required for you to know me, for there to be any understanding whatsoever between any of us.
I could trot out the statistics. Talk about where Jayce Carver got his start and what this promising newcomer brings to the table. Talk about how little I know about Matt Shepard, despite the name of his mentor Bronx V being vaguely familiar. He does not seem to even be aware that I am in this match. I could sort us all into categories based on the most subjective of things. The moment that bell rings, though, none of it will matter. I could harp on and on at length, mimic those who claim they are better than me. Why? What purpose does it serve to tear down the opposition?
We have all paid our shares of dues on the independent circuit before landing a contract here in the big leagues. None of us have a unique story there. We’ve all been hammered by some form of adversity, shaped into the WORTHY contenders we have become. Yes, my friends. I believe you are precisely where you belong in this moment, even the newcomer who has yet to grace the IIW ring.
I know so many in this business wish to judge, to critique from the shadows. I always found hunger to be my best motivation, even now. Mac Bane accused me of being aware of my lowly status and unwilling to change it. He does not understand. I work better this way: being unknown, forgotten and in need has always been better to me than anything else. Starvation makes every scrap more of a meal. It makes you savour. Every. Last. Bite.
I would not expect a man with seventeen championships to understand this. Nor should I. Our paths diverge at that fork in the road, where fame burns and the darkness of obscurity beckons as a place to hide out a while, letting tougher skin grow in its place. Kenny knows the truth in this, knows how quickly a year can pass in the void with those busy limbs churning, always in motion just beneath the surface. Tread water. Keep from sinking even though there is no shore in sight. Maybe salvation is just over the horizon.
Just stay afloat a little longer.
Nothing lasts forever; his business teaches you that. All streaks break eventually. Wins. Droughts. You must be patient. Persevere. If not for the end reward, then why are we even here? There are no words to define this. Kansas said it best: all we are is dust in the wind. Nothing substantial, easily scattered. A memorial to our best intentions, cut down in their prime. No time for regrets, for resting on laurels or entertaining flights of fancy. As they say: show up and show out.
Nothing this life has to offer can really pull me from my destination now. My course is locked in. Nothing they say, nothing YOU do can change that. My eyes, indefinitely, will turn back to my true north. Soon, I will be a father. I can be a champion again, this time one that matters. I celebrated freedom with a Liberty Championship – my very first.
I shed blood for a Crimson Championship. Found the lengths I would go to for glory. The line can be crossed. I have it in me to make this happen, to seize the moment.
Three is a powerful number. Much better than seventeen. Three opponents. Three championships.
A new chapter is about to begin. I can welcome my daughter with my feet planted firmly, ready to forge a NEW LEGACY in all facets of my life. I can shape a life, I can be part of moulding something wonderful with a company that deserves it. Both prospects, as opposite as they are, fill me with equal measures of joy. Of satisfaction.
Where are we going today?
A new legacy awaits. Reach out. Take it. All this time, it’s been waiting for you – waiting for you to have the blinders drop from your eyes, to have that perspective shift. You have overcome, paid for this moment in blood, sweat and many tears. Welcome, my friends. It is time to enjoy the fruits of our labours.
It is finally time to ASCEND.
–E
|
|
|
Post by Enigma on May 20, 2023 20:05:54 GMT
NYU Clinical Cancer Center, Palliative Care Unit ||| May 14, 2023 (off camera)
The exhaustion he felt as he stepped off the elevator and moved towards the empty nurse’s station felt so damned familiar that his knees almost buckled with déjà vu. If it hadn't been for that sharp disinfectant smell, he could have sworn it was another place, ripped directly from the memories he did his best to repress. Sev blinked, shaking his head, trying to banish that memory from two decades before of another whitewashed hallway and the claustrophobic feeling of a fish out of water. In seven days, he’d be in London. In a weeks’ time, he would be back in front of the IIW faithful, doing his level best to set the tone for a blockbuster show with a lukewarm crowd. He was no stranger to that, after all. Not after working two decades as enhancement talent. The majority of his matches before 2020 were curtain-jerkers, few and far between actually recorded outside of a handful of local indy appearances. There was precious little to his back catalogue, outside of anything found in 5BW or PWE. Perhaps that was the reason why Matt Shepard had mistaken him for someone else. He knew if Jace or Summer were privy to these intrusive thoughts, they’d have slapped him upside the head. Told him it was the oldest trick in the book – the classic “who are you” no-sell. Any other day, he would have brushed it off. Today though, it was prickling under his skin like a thousand splinters, souring his mood further. The room was at the end of the hall – he’d known that for days. Visiting hours had begun two hours ago. This was the first time he’d made it this far and the sound of the elevator doors sliding shut sealed his fate for the time being. He had a linear choice now: carry on down that blindingly white hallway or turn around and desperately try to summon that little box of salvation to whisk him away, back to the safety of his little cocoon. One foot in front of the other. You can do this. The voice in his head was supportive, catching him off-guard. It sounded like his wife’s rather than those belittling tones of the man he’d come to finally pay his last respects to. He didn’t want to think about what that meant, closing his eyes for a moment as he reached out to rest his palm against the wall. If he'd remembered to eat, he probably would have been running for the nearest bathroom stall. Was this guilt? Fear? Regret? He wasn’t even sure how to quantify it, wasn’t sure if he was supposed to march into the room and demand recompense or if he was supposed to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness for that betrayal. The fans in Reno had believed it was a work, a storyline to bolster the push Jack Moreau had received – he was calling himself LEGION then, had gathered the broken from amidst the roster’s lower rabble to create a following. He called it the Church of the Seventh Circle. There had been no discussion beforehand, no planning. He’d turned on PYRO, joining Siobahn McLeod and Hayden Triggs in the beatdown. The audience had gobbled it up like candy, going insane. The Church was over and for the first time in his career, he was part of something that felt important. Six months later, they were a footnote. The pivotal moment in his career, in his life, chalked up to nothing more than a failed experiment in the career of a former champion. The other two had hung up their boots shortly thereafter. Moreau had been hit by a bus, stepping off the curb drunk in Vegas – the worst sort of anti-climactic tragedy. He’d probably never walk again and here he was, feeling bitter about not getting more out of the six-month meal ticket he’d had after a lifetime of scraps. Jack Moreau would never wrestle again. Neither would the man in the room at the end of that hall. With his eyes closed, he was back inside that ring in the moments after Mac Bane had nailed that Good Night Princess. He wished his match had been the main event, that he could have kept laying there, flat on his now-spasming back after the cameras went dark. After the last body filed out of the arena and nothing was left but the lingering fart smell of cheap popcorn and watered-down beer. Instead he'd had to haul himself up, make that walk of shame to the back and pretend everything wasn't hurting. It was all a blur – he hadn’t bothered to watch it back. Hadn’t wanted to get lost in that rabbit hole of self-loathing and nitpicking everything he’d done wrong. The fragments were lost in the pounding in his temples that echoed each deliberately level step he took. Part of him wanted to shuffle his feet, but he knew if he gave into that urge, he'd lose the last scrap of courage he had left. This already felt like a march to the gallows. The chatter of voices behind him signalled the arrival of two nurses from what was likely their break room, startling him. He straightened up, turned with a brittle smile on his face but they weren’t even looking in his direction. Despite his bulk, he may as well have been invisible at that moment. “Damn it all to hell.” The words came out under his breath, his lips still moving when the sound dropped out. The door was right in front of him now. Five or six steps away. No turning back now. He swallowed hard, squaring his shoulders. Time to face the music. ━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━ It's been awake for more than seventy-two hours. No. Sorry. Freudian slip, perhaps?
I meant to write I'VE been. English is my third language, after Ukrainian and Russian – I don’t tell you this for an excuse or because I want my shoddy grammar to have a pass. I just want you to know where I come from. These past few weeks have been difficult. Again, not making excuses. We are professionals – we are paid to leave our personal baggage behind in that locker room, get down to business the moment our music hits the speakers. And those of us who last a little while, we find a way to compartmentalise. Throw a switch.
Chelomtsev Vladislav Yurievich has never set foot in any arena. Has never rubbed elbows with the greats in that locker room. He does not exist outside of a name on a page in the little blue booklet that allows me – that allows ENIGMA – to travel all over the world.
I should be exhausted but for now, I feel energised. It’s something like the seventeenth wind at this point and I know that I will regret this sooner rather than later. I am not as young as I once was and the more I tax this body in the hours before we go to war between those ropes, the less likely it is that I will win. I know that I have already made mistakes. Kenny Pryce seems to have dropped off the face of the earth. Is this my doing? Did my fixation on that parallel sabotage things?
And then there were three.
I would love to say something clever, but I feel as though the well has run dry. I could take a page from the howler monkeys, sling random shit at the wall to see if it sticks but there’s a sick sort of defeat in that. I owe you better – this is about a new LEGACY, after all. Not another cookie cutter retread with a new coat of paint. I saw a common thread to pull with Pryce, saw a little of that starry-eyed rookie I was once upon a time. Those shoes haven’t fit me in years, haven’t been comfortable in decades. On some level, I am aware that I sold out before I ever made it up on that pedestal. Someone convinced me that it was a smart play, that I could bank on longevity rather than being a quick flash in the pan. What did I know at the time? Nothing. I would sugarcoat the whole sordid tale, but I lack the mental capacity for that today. My head hurts, my mind confined to a space much too small for it – sorry, friends. No metaphors. No walls of words to hide my glaring inadequacies.
If you want something clever, crack my head open once we get in that ring. Scoop it out yourself like the insides of a soft-boiled egg. And here I promised no metaphors yet we are left with the idea of soft-boiled ego with just a dash of salt to season. Add some toast and you have a nice repast.
Sounds delicious. Truly a breakfast of CHAMPIONS.
Matt Shepard. Jayce Carver. Let me ask you something. Do either of you think you are on the level of Mac Bane, the man who will be International Champion in just a few short days? I don’t want you to actually answer that – it was rhetorical. We both know you’re not. The two of you are going to great pains to hide the truth, as though I haven’t been in this business long enough to read tells. Go on, then. Lie about it. Tell me how mighty you are. Have your mouthpiece shout about your upcoming triumph from the rooftops. If you repeat it enough times, you might even begin to believe it could happen. Even a broken clock can be right twice a day, after all. Deny your fear. Sing your own praises. Don’t utter my name.
You think this is a defining moment for either of you? A place to exact revenge? A stepping stone? No. Not for you.
You're nothing more than two wholly interchangeable idiots – paid cannon fodder.
In six months, this too will be a footnote. Kenny Pryce will flake out again. Matt Shepard will take another knock to the head that sidelines him. Jayce Carver’s star will burn out. There will be new idiots through the revolving door that chews us up and spits us out. We are like bubble gum. When the flavour is stale, it's time for something new. Throw it away.
This business will never have to worry about running low. There will always be fresh meat. There will always be grease for the gears.
I will not lie to you and say having this belt will make things better. Coming from experience, it’s unlikely. Still, I cannot deny how much I want it. How a part of me truly believes in that validation because it forces THEM to take notice. Do you see me, Matt? DO. YOU. SEE?
The moment of truth has arrived. I am sick of the shadows. The bruises are fading. My body is ready. I am ready for my closeup, primed for the limelight. This is MY time. NOT YOURS. Never again.
–E
━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━ NYU Clinical Cancer Center, Palliative Care Unit ||| May 14, 2023 (off camera)
The curtain was pulled most of the way around the bed but not so much that he couldn’t see a lump under the sheets at the foot of it. The chair was uncomfortable, hard plastic but he still sank into it gratefully, letting his head hang. His shaking hands pressed together, hard enough that his wrists popped. He could hear the hiss of air, could hear a clock ticking somewhere. “I should have come sooner,” his voice came out low and hoarse, trembling slightly. Was that emotion or fatigue? The sound of breathing was loud enough to carry to his ears, mechanical and measured. Of course the bastard in the bed said nothing. Sev nodded, as if that silence confirmed everything. Anger darkened his eyes, turning them dead black before he closed them, dragging in a deep breath in an effort to keep himself calm. “No.” He ground out the word between clenched teeth, “I will not start this conversation with a lie. I should not have come at all – I think that is what you expected, though. Go out as the hero in your own story. The victim, alone and forgotten, wasting away in the shadows of his own design.” He let his head drop, reaching up to rub absently at the tension in his neck. Another headache loomed, throbbing in his temples in time with his pulse. “I hate you.” The confession wasn’t really a revelation. Still, it felt good to finally say the words aloud. “Look at this mess. Here we are. You… sitting there in silence like a king on his throne. Wave the hand, issue the summons, snap the fingers…good little puppy will come. He always does. And I hate myself for this. For this weakness where you are concerned.” Fingers dug into the back of his head, both hands there gripping his neck as he let out a sigh that turned into a growl. “Liar. Phony. All those years, you believed you were so smart. Did you think I would never discover the truth?” Sev’s laughter was bitter and caustic, his lips curled into a snarl as he spat his next words, still keeping his voice low. “I know what you did. That deal you negotiated – the first one. They did not want you. I saw the offer. They wanted…” he couldn’t bring himself to say it, choking on his own rage. “Everything that could have been – you twisted it up. You had to insert yourself into it, to make me complicit in this thing that went over like a lead balloon, your toxic ego at the centre of it all. And for what? So that you could be the King of the curtain-jerkers? So that you could keep me chained at your side until I was no longer useful? What… what was the plan, hmm? Did you even have one beyond filling your pockets with money at my expense?” Sev fell silent again, laboured breaths rattling as he tried to calm himself. He closed his eyes. Counted to a hundred. The silence was deafening, the roar of his pulse in his ears far less soothing than it usually was. Like waves crashing on an unseen shore, the rhythmic sounds of that breathing machine pulsed and ebbed on the edges of his hearing. Had there been a subtle shift? Had it sped up slightly? “Of course, you have nothing to say, do you? No explanation. No absolution for you. I do not care why you did. It does not change the truth, the knowledge of all that time wasted. I will never be more than an insignificant speck in this business, no matter how many trinkets I manage to gather before the end. There will always be this against me. Twenty goddamn years of waste. This… this is why I hate you. This is why I wish I had not come here.” Unshed tears burned in his eyes and he squeezed them shut, taking one deep and shuddering breath after another. When he broke the silence again, his voice was rougher, far more strained. “The last thing I see before I go to bed is her face. Do you know what I see once I get there? It is not my bright future. It is not her sunshine smile. It is not my beautiful daughter, our perfect family. No. It is your smug face and your greedy hands, snatching it all away. I wish I could hurt you, tear you apart the way I have done so many times in my dreams. You deserve this. You deserve to rot alone, like the trash you are. Let the scavengers pick the meat from your bones – even this is too good for you. You are a stain that lingers. You are the garbage they sweep up after everyone has gone home. Nobody will mourn you.” Sev shot to his feet, the silence overwhelming now as he reached one trembling hand out to grasp the curtain. “You will rot in hell.” It was a statement, the anger bubbling over as he whisked the curtain aside, refusing to accept silence as an answer any longer... only to find nothing but a dent in the pillow, rumpled blankets and an otherwise empty bed. “Sir?” A nurse stood in the doorway and Sev turned around, his hand falling guiltily to his side even as the curtain was still shaking. “What are you doing?” “There was…” the words died on the tip of his tongue and he shook his head. What was he doing here? Arguing with ghosts? “I’m so sorry,” the nurse said and there was something in her voice that made his stomach drop to his feet. “Are you family?” He nodded woodenly, not wanting to debate semantics now. “He passed last night. Peacefully.” He wheeled away from her, stumbled out into the hallway feeling vaguely sick and that was when he realised his phone was vibrating. Fumbling it out, he swiped at the screen without really looking. “Sev?” The horror in his wife’s voice matched what he was feeling and he wondered how she could have known when she was miles away. “Hello? Are you there? M-my water just broke,” LJ’s voice came from the speaker, sounding a million miles away as the phone fell from his numb fingers, clattering to the floor. He could still hear her talking. She sounded terrified now. “The baby’s coming. Now.”
|
|