Post by Owen Gonsalves on Sept 25, 2015 10:18:53 GMT -6
Post-Breakthrough #33
The hot sweat was pouring down my face, I was a little cut up and there was the familiar striking pain in my ribs that always returns with every double foot stomp I get struck with but...I couldn't get over the adrenalin in my body.
The rush of the audience when I dove through those ropes and collided with Flint was something I haven't experienced in a long time and it was truly great. It overcomes any pain in my ribs as I sat on the padded stretcher in the trainer's room. It was a busy night for them, they had to deal with a bloody Cameron Behringer, Zelda and Stacy who were both mauled by my opponent and many other talents with tweaking injuries. But I was still there, first one there and last one to leave as always.
"Keep it taped up, it should be fine and you should be clear by Armed and Dangerous but try to take it easy from now until then, Owen." That was the medical trainer's advice. Words I've almost missed hearing.
Ah, the double foot stomp. How it's proven to be a curse in my career, my first major injury came courtesy of a tandem double foot stomp from Byron Belasko and Ryan Pugh's bastard son. Two painted up madmen of our squared circle. It's only natural that the very injury that put me on the sidelines and gave me the opportunity to take that much needed breather would resurface in my first official match back to consistent competing.
I winced before nodding slowly towards the EMT who finished wrapping my abdomen and rib area tightly with dressing to hold the rubs that he massaged into my rib area in place. My mind was running a mile a minute, thinking about coming so close to getting a big return victory over Scarlet Flint, what my partner and best friend Tyler Storm must be feeling after Flint's battering of his wife and Stacy Jones, what the hell my wife is going to think of my first night back in the business but the one thing that sat right in the middle of that...
The constant thought since the referee called the match a draw...was what the hell was running through the head of Ace Watson. This vendetta against me, this sudden interest in wanting to catch my attention every time he went out there...
I understood it, but at the same time it confused me. He was hell bent on wanting my attention, well he'd gotten it and he knew it the moment he clutched onto my ankle. There was a moment where I felt his satisfaction as he heard the number ten escape the lips of the official...but of course that'd be immediately erased once I was pulled back onto the knees of Scarlet Flint. I hopped onto my feet, testing out the wrapping around my ribs, wincing slowly at ever turn before gritting my teeth and walking out, throwing a weak thumbs up towards Jason, the trainer.
"I mean it, Owen...Take it easy." He stressed over those words like every other trainer I had ever come across would, and every time I would smile and nod before preparing for the brawl I would face the next show.
This time however it was slightly different, I still smiled and nodded but there was this sick feeling in your stomach, it can't be related to my ribs...it's the type of feeling you get when you know you weren't supposed to go to the park after school because your parents told you not to, but you still end up going and they catch you there? That feeling of guilt...maybe that's the word.
I opened the door to the male lockeroom, everyone had practically already left the arena but one or two bags remained in the lockeroom, probably referee bags. I hobbled over to my gear, picking the towel off of the hook it hung on and with a heavy sigh, the towel met my face and I padded the sweat off lightly.
"Damn you had that match, kid."
Oh shit. Swiftly pulling the towel away from my face, I stare silently at the hanging space each wrestler would get. I knew the voice but I was in no mood to even see the man behind the voice's face.
"I mean...you were kicking her ass up until that punk kid hugged your fucking leg! Bullshit I say!" There he went again, there was a slur in his voice as I slowly turned around to see the dirty blonde haired old man sitting on the lockeroom seats, his coat sat beside him and the top button of his white collar shirt was unbuttoned.
The air in my lungs wanted to escape, so I released a heavy sigh and shook my head, "Bronx...What the hell are you doing here? How the hell did you get back here?"
"I could ask you the same question, O-Town. Does the farmer know her rooster is out of his pen and hanging around the cockpits?" It was his usual snarky, yet eccerntric language.
"She knows I'm wrestling for tonight..." Once again there was another heavy sigh. I couldn't stare directly at him so the floor was where my eyes trailed.
"So she finally came around huh? Good fucking work, kid!" He chuckled heavily before the laugh escalated into a grouchy cough fit.
That was the sick feeling, or at least the reason behind it. I had convinced her that Flint would be my last...
***
One week before Breakthrough #33...
"Ash, we need uh...need to talk..."
All the possible curses run through my head and they are all specifically aimed at my bastard of an Uncle who had got me busted.
"I don't know Owen, it seems as though you make pretty clear decisions on your own WITHOUT talking to me, so I dunno if we do need to talk?" There was malice in her voice, the type of malice a married man tends to hear from his significant other (or Super Octopus if you're Madame Magiker).
"I was going to tell you-" I almost half assed starting that line because I was just waiting for her to interrupt me like she was famous for doing during times like this. She groaned before turning around and storming back towards our bedroom.
"When, Owen? The night before while you pack your bags and prepare for the flight? Or maybe you'd do it on the way to the damn airport or maybe on the bloody flight even? Anywhere where you couldn't see my face, the look of utter disgust I'd have. That kills you deep down inside so you'd rather tell me things over the phone or wait for your, washed up, buzzed, 50 something year old Uncle to break into our house like he usually does to scream it out to the world that the fantastic, death defying, Ultraviolent one is making his return to wrestling!" And we were off to the races, I wish she'd understand...hell, she should considering there was a time where she loved this business just as much as I did.
There was a time where she was bloody better than I ever was.
"Damnit I was going to tell you before then, Ashley but..."
"You can't, can you? You can't bare the fact that I'm scared for your well-being and that I'm scared for the well-being of our family! I damn near broke my neck, Owen! That twisted bastard spiked me on my head in the middle of the ring and was going to do it a second time!" And now not only were we off to the races but we were going to start flooding now because down came the waterworks.
It's a painful feeling knowing that the one thing you wanted to do more than ever was going to potentially hurt your whole family.
"I get it, Owen...The first time you went back to avenge him hurting me and insulting our family, I said yes but I can't allow you to risk getting hurt again."
I sighed heavily as I tend to do as of late, I glanced up at her and embraced her in a deep hug, "Alright. I won't go back."
I don't know what made me say those words or why I said them but it was the most painful thing I've said since the words "I Quit" against Seth Iser in the Hammerstein Ballroom.
"Oh bullshit, Owen...Don't bullshit me like that." She sobbed out those words, pushing away from the embrace and wiping her eyes.
I placed both my hands on her shoulders, and suddenly my answer would become more genuine...because it would have to be for her to truly believe them, "No really...I'll call Ryan or Frei or whoever and cancel my bookings. I won't go back...I'll be here with you."
I embraced her and tucked her head into my chest, staring right at the 3CW Full Metal Title that hung on my wall
***
"How'd you get her to come around like that? I mean from the text you sent me, you were damn sure that you weren't going to make it to Marquette." There was genuine curiosity in his voice as I floated back down to earth.
"I told her the next day that I needed to at least wrestle this one match. I tried to convince myself and her that hopefully Flint would kick my ass hard enough that any thoughts of returning would rattle out right away..."
My eyes batted towards him for a moment and he had that humbling smirk, like what I was going through now was all too familiar for him. Probably because it was what he'd gone through at one point.
"...But it didn't, did it? All it did was want you to come back again and again and again? Especially since the powers that be would want you to give the fans what they want and see you kick Ace Watson's ass all around Thunder Bay in a few weeks? It's clear as day that's going to be the move they make next, Ace versus Owen."
The mere thought of that match dried up the back of my throat and sent tingles up my spine. I wanted to wrestle my old friend, no doubt...hell, I'd probably get the same feeling if anyone else were my opponent. Just the thought of wrestling someone or having someone the authorities may want me to wrestle was a good feeling...
"Plus you're still winless in this company...You need to figure out how to change that if you want to become a success again, my offer of guidance will forever sit on the table for you but before even thinking about accepting it, before you even step into the ring with Ace or whoever they may have lined up for you at Armed and Dangerous...you've got to clear your mind. You couldn't beat Flint because Ace was clutched onto your leg and you won't beat Ace if it's Ashley who clutches onto it. Unchain those legs and run free, kiddo." It's probably the closest Bronx would ever come to giving wise advice but yet I couldn't help but smile and nod. It was advice worth listening to, because nobody would understand my itch and the sensation of stepping into the ring like he can.
But the final words stung still, it was almost as if he advised me to leave my wife, he spoke of her as if she was a burden on my career. And maybe she is but even so, I can't leave her. I can't live without wrestling but I won't live without my Ashley, call me whipped, make claims that my balls are in her purse because all that wouldn't matter.
I can't leave her.
I can't leave her.
"I can't leave her, BG..."
He scoffed and raised an eyebrow, almost perplexed, "Stop over thinking, kid...Who said anything about leaving her? You wanna freely wrestle again, you're going to have to reach deep inside ya and convince her that no matter what...returning to this is what's best for you. For as much as I give her shit, she's an intelligent broad. She'll understand."
And she did, after calling bullshit on me staying out and me promising I would...She accepted it. She slapped me twice for tweaking the ribs first but there was a strange moment where she accepted the fact that this was what I needed to do. I needed to have this match with Ace because I'm the only one that can help him...because in the end that's all he needs...is some help.
"One last run" were her words, with that half smirk. She knew it could be a long last run, or it could last until the end of the month but there was this weird faith and trust she had in me. Maybe she just couldn't be bothered arguing or maybe it was the fact that she saw the drive and motivation in my eyes. She asked for me to make sure our family stays out of it as much as possible but I know the people in this business...there's people who are desperate, they'll do anything if it means they'll walk out with the W so I don't know how long it'll be before some poor guy decides to bring my family into this business again but until then I have my eyes set on the road ahead and my career ahead...Iser may return to target my family, or ever Ace might be desperate enough to do it, who knows...
I wouldn't blame him, but he's barking up the wrong tree there, no doubt...This run is about my career and about me.
Present Day
Present Day
- Recording
I had these photos sitting on my lap, ready to show them off for this...spiel I'll do in front of the camera. It went well last time, the fans enjoyed watching it and the management were happy with it so, I figure it'd be an idea to do it again. Maybe make it a habit...It's just as awkward as the first time, and it'll probably take me a month or two to fully be able to commit to the idea of speaking to the fans that watch the product every 2 weeks. But I'll get there.
I can't help but scan over the pictures myself...clippings from wrestling magazines of my bloodied face after one of my violent matches in the year 2013, a picture of my face being maimed with barbed wire, another one of Joka holding me high above his head with light tubes awaiting below for me, then there's the picture of broken tables around the ring and my broken body hanging on the ropes...victorious in NEW's Warfare match.
Owen Gonsalves: "It's history I can't erase anymore, it's the reputation I was once proud of having but now, it's a part of me that I'm not too proud of. I don't regret it but if it never happened, I'd be content with that. Sometimes it doesn't go the way we expect..."
My finger runs over one of the pictures of my blood stained face, partially wiped. I'm holding my daughter in my arms by the guardrail, my wife and son on the other side. There's a smile on her face, but it's masking emotion and grief.
Owen Gonsalves: "It's part of this business unfortunately, to always expect the unexpected. I didn't plan on being counted out against you, Scarlet...I got a mental victory because I took you to the point where we went to a draw, had Ace not have held me back, there may have been a different outcome. But it'll still be a blemish in your otherwise flawless singles career and it's a crack that I know Tyler Storm will smash into. It wasn't the outcome I expected at all, but it's ironic how that outcome was caused..."
I lay the photos to the side for the moment, crossing my arms and leaning back on the chair I sit on.
Owen Gonsalves: "...Because it's been building up inside of Ace Watson, I'm assuming that all of what you've said Ace...is because you haven't been able to catch a break since your arrival here. You've had some handy victories, and a huge one recently against Tyron Bickerton but otherwise it's been a bumpy ride for you. It sucks because you're one of my closest friends in the business, put aside the differences in our values and what we've done. We both came up together and broke in around the same time, you in England and myself in Australia."
Picking up the photos I find one of myself during the early days of my career, I show it to the camera for a moment before sitting it on my lap.
Owen Gonsalves: "We both made the trip to Atlanta to get trained in the American style of professional wrestling and wrestled down there for SWA's developmental and from there we both travelled to Arizona, California and Florida over the next two years together. Tyler, you and myself...We were the big three that always found each other through our travels."
A smile forms on my face, memories are resurfacing once more as I pull out an album from under my seat, flipping through it before finding two pages worth of photos from out California and Florida tours, 3CW and FSW respectively.
Owen Gonsalves: "And after that we would venture off separately, I'm not sure what happened to you but Tyler travelled on to success in other promotions and I ventured and began to travel the world with NEW. But through that all we regained contact and somehow we find ourselves together again in VoW, travelling all over the Midwest and into Canada.
But through the journey Tyler has found luck while I've been out on rehabilitation...you've been in VoW and it's been a tough road for you. There's frustration setting in for you because you didn't expect things to be this tough and the talent to be as top notch as they are."
It's difficult saying the things I am but it's the truth and it may not be the nicest factor to point out but it's leading me up to my main point.
Owen Gonsalves: "You fell into wearing this mask now, this mask that you believe has brought you victories and success suddenly but it's scaring everyone around you, with good reason. You see this Ace Watson I'm facing at Armed and Dangerous isn't the man I travelled America with prior to my time in NEW, it's that mask you wear, it plays a psychological factor for you and when you wear it...it's like you're hiding the shame and disappoint any man would feel when they've been stumped unexpectedly.
But you have no idea what a mask can do to you, Ace...We all once wore a mask, whether it be a mental mask, emotional mask or physical mask, we've all worn it. Ask Seth Iser what a mask did to him, you'll see Matt Slater at the show...ask him what wearing a mask turned him into. The answer is a monster. A monster that you have no control over."
My hands started shaking for some reason as thoughts of the masks I've worn run through my head, the many crimson masks...the masks that stained the canvas.
Owen Gonsalves: "I know what wearing a mask is...You see while you may have a physical mask on you, for the majority of 2013 and part of 2014 I carried around this mask I called Ultraviolence. This mask that turned me into a bloodthirsty, spot craving mad man who maimed his opponents week in and week out. I became a monster and I paid the heaviest of prices for it, I nearly lost my life, my family and I lost more than one year of my career.
...And what's worse is I wore my mask with pride, I wore it proudly after getting thrown off a cell and into a table, I wore it when I was slammed through a stack of light tubes, when I drove a human being off a ladder and into a flaming table, when I stood up from a controlled C4 explosion..."
All the flashbacks...I started sifting through the pictures, almost every single one of them had a red face on them. The crimson mask....in every singles picture.
Owen Gonsalves: "My career is tainted by this crimson mask that I wore Ace and...I can't allow anyone else to suffer like I did...I can't. Nobody else can snap you out of this and prove to you that you're one of the best professional wrestlers without this mask and that this was all a stupid plan set by a silly psychopath. Beck Ramsey knew exactly what this would do to you, you've been caught on to this mask and you won't let go Ace..."
SLAM! My fist punches the photos as I can't control the horror flashbacks, almost like what a aged war veteran would go through over and over against. The sheer screams of my victims, and the screams of my own voice play over and over in my head.
Owen Gonsalves: "As one of my closest friends, I cant sit idly and watch you allow this mask to become a crutch but words won't get through to you alone, you've wanted my attention and maybe it's your way of pleading for help, maybe not but either way Ace I need to try...Pleading won't work, begging won't work. You need help beating the psychological part that the mask plays, and the only way to beat it is for me to beat you. Without bearing my own troubled past and wearing my own mask again I've got to reach out and beat yours out of you, ARW."
The words sting as I slowly begin to calm. Nobody is home...I specifically requested my wife to go for a walk with our kids.
Owen Gonsalves: "Call it tough love. But I can't let you wear this mask any longer, because I'd rather do it myself than see someone not as considerate do it for you. You may not understand now, but I didn't either when I faced Matt Slater and he told me, when I faced many others who told me about the mask I once wore...it took a near career ending injury for me to rip my mask off and I don't want it to happen to you, brother."
Sadness overcomes me now, as I sigh heavily and run my hands through my hair.
Owen Gonsalves: "Come September 28th...We'll meet once again, this time I'm coming in to reach out and get to you before it's too late, nobody else can or will. Win, lose or draw...That mask is why you cost me my match against Scarlet and it's why you're more dangerous than ever but deep down there is the old ARW in there and I'll do my damndest to reach out for him whether you like it or not. I cannot and will not be destroyed...and I won't allow for you to be destroyed either."
There's one last look down at that in famous picture of my bloodied body hugging my mentor Ryan Omega who too lays bloodied on the canvas after our Omega's Law match. My eyes shut slowly before sighing and opening them.
~Fade~