Post by - The Hardcore Hero on Nov 20, 2015 21:35:06 GMT -6
Auckland, New Zealand - 12/06/97
“You worthless piece of fucking shit!” Jessie Williams yelled at the top of his lungs, sending a hard right fist toward Helga - Heaths mother.
She lunged backwards, going spine first into the wall of Heaths bedroom as his eyelids tore themselves apart - the ten year old boy forced awake by the intense volume of his parents nightly argument. He swiftly turned around in his bed and sat up, his wrestling printed duvet flew off of him and onto the ground - he stared in complete horror as his father slowly walked in, one stomp of his hard leather work boots after another. He held in his hand a glass crack pipe that he inhaled from whilst wearing the black-toothed grin that Heath knew all too well.
He and his mother would call it the possessed look - it was the look that Jessie would get when his mind was lost into the abyss of an empty bag that once contained the purest crystal meth. This look would occur every day of every week of every month, despite Jessie telling Heath and Helga that moving back to New Zealand and away from the brutal heated climate of Australia would cure him of his nasty, almost cataclysmic addiction. It had been two years since then and his routine of coming home from work and finishing a gram worth of crystal hadn’t even come close to changing. Helga constantly spoke up about how this evil, factitious narcotic had destroyed the man she whom she deeply loved but that would only make his intake increase - he began to enjoy not being the generic good-loving husband and father his family yearned for.
“You know what, bitch?” Jessie asked rhetorically as he stalked forward coming right in close to Helgas face. “I think you need a little pick-me-up.”
He extended the pipe up towards Helgas mouth but she shook her head at a rapid speed with unpleasant squeals and screams that jarred on the ears. Jessie cringed, recoiling at the high pitch directed straight towards his eardrums. He slapped her across her cheek, leaving a big red hand print and nearly sending her into a state of shock. He reached around her neck and took a handful of her long flowing brunette hair yanking it back and taking complete control.
“Please...Jessie...stop…” Helga uttered as she was reduced to nothing but quiet pleads.
“Stop? Babe, I’m only just starting.” He replied with a smirk to match as he raised the pipe further to her lips. “Open up sweet cheeks - the choo choo train’s a comin’!”
Heath had had enough as he launched himself up out of bed and over to the scene, arms out ready to deal out some damage and save his mum but unfortunately Jessies jumped up, drug fuelled mind didn’t miss a beat as he took a step back and put a foot out, tripping Heath up against the grey carpet he hated so much. He raised the pipe high above his head before hurling it down at his sons back, glass shattering against his skin - the brown oils from the burnt down meth oozing onto his shoulder blade. Helga fell to her knees, crawling over to her son that lay face-first on the floor writhing in pain.
“Do you understand what you’ve just done, boy?”
Jessie kicked Helga back, a yelp escaping her lips as she collided with the wall once more. He knelt down on one knee, dusting up the little pieces of glass from Heaths back and staring at them rolling around in his hand. He shook his head, jaw clenched and nostrils flared before turning his attention to the back of Heaths head.
“Turn around and look at me.” Heath didn’t comply, staying flat on his stomach which only angered his father further. “I SAID TURN AROUND AND FUCKING LOOK AT ME!”
He bolted up, sending a stern right foot into Heaths side and forcing him around onto his back. The young boy stared up at him with eyes full of abhorrence, the only thing Heath wanted to do right now was reach up and break his bastard fathers neck but his youthful mind was still able to consider the fact he wasn’t strong enough to match Jessies pure insanity.
“That pipe...Heath, was my favourite. Do you know how long I’ve had that pipe? Three FUCKING weeks! That was a record of mine, A FUCKING RECORD THAT YOUR ARROGANCE JUST FUCKING RUINED!” Jessie sent three more almost omnipotent kicks into Heaths arm, a loud snap occurring after the third and Heath with a blood-curdling, tormented screech. “What the fuck was that? You wanna be a wrestler don’t you, boy? Then grow a fucking sack and learn how to handle a bit of fucking pain.”
“You broke his arm!” Helga cried out, tears streaming down the sides of her face. “Tomorrow’s his birthday...and your gift...IS A BROKEN FUCKING ARM?!”
Jessie shrugged, turning the other way. “Better than what my dad ever gave me.”
Helga crawled over to Heath as Jessie departed from the room, sobbing as she looked over his arm, shaking her head and pulling him into a big motherly hug.
“I know I haven’t been there for you very much baby...but that changes from here on out, mkay? I’ll do the best I can to protect you from that wretched man…and tomorrow, you’ll be getting a nice birthday present for once, one that you deserve. Thank you for standing up to him when I couldn’t sweetie.” She gave him a peck on the forehead as he snuggled against her, using her shirt to wipe away his tears.
Little did Heath know…
-
Present Day
It’s funny how memories work - they can surprise you at anytime, even if the memories are in no way related to where you are or what you’re doing. Sometimes it’s almost like your brain’s trying to bring you back down into the pits of despair even when you’re happily loving life and sometimes it’s the reverse. None of it makes sense to Heath, especially with how he was recalling one of the many terrifying moments of his childhood when he’s only chilling out in the backstage area of the Murray Ice Rink with an ice cold celebratory brewski in hand following his clash with Dathyn.
“Hey Heath.” a soft feminine voice comes from behind.
Heath looks up to see Missy limping around him before she takes a seat from across the table his beer rests on. He raises two eyebrows as a substitute for greeting her.
“How’s that ankle?” He asks, watching her try to get comfortable.
“It’s okay, don’t need the crutches anymore so that’s a plus. Have you seen Tyron anywhere?”
“Yeah he’s just getting his nose checked out again, apparently it got a little agitated during his match with Iser.”
“Ah, no good. Congrats on the win though, that finisher was great. You should’ve heard the pop you received.”
“Oh I did. Still, is it wrong to say I want more?” Heath asks, folding his arms and biting his bottom lip.
“What do you mean?” Missy replies adjusting her foot so it’s stretched out and leaning against the table leg.
“The adulation of the fans - as much as I love it...it’s just not completely cutting it for me. I want gold, Miss. Really fucking badly. It’s getting to the point where I don’t care if it’s those Twin City straps, the World title or even Tyro’s Zero Gravity Championship. And I hate thinking that way, knowing that I wouldn’t even mind taking the thing my best friend worked so fucking hard for.”
“Just go for the one that’ll get you the most money.”
They share a laugh, Heath taking another sip from his 8% party in a bottle.
“I’ve never been in it for the money. I’ve only ever been in it to become the best. Believe it or not, that’s my #1 addiction. Fucking success.”
“Well, hey - you’re already well on your way. I mean, unofficially pinning English last week? Decimating Dathyn this week? That’s two Champions right there then you’ve got a third at the PPV so if you win there then hey, I don’t think gold’s too far away in your future.” Missy explains, informing Heath of the plans management has for him at Darkest Hour
His eyes light up. “Huh? Who’s my opponent?”
“Cera.”
“Oh, she’s the hot one right?”
“Jesus Heath.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “You’re sitting there saying you want success but now all you care about is if ‘she’s the hot one’?”
“Lighten up. I was kidding.” He thinks for a second. “Actually, I wasn’t. But I’m not gonna get distracted from what matters most.”
“You better not.”
“Have some faith, I beat Katie Moicelle didn’t I?”
“Yeah well, I’m just saying - you’ve always had a knack for shortening your attention span when there’s a pair of boobs around. You can’t afford to be so dimwitted this time.”
Heaths smirks. “My attention span didn’t seem to shorten when you were at ringside last week.”
Missy rolls her eyes. “That’s different. We hate eachother.”
“Is it though? Because my thing is - maybe I’m just finally growing up. Maybe shit like that doesn’t best me anymore.”
“Well, I’ve always been under the impression that a leopard never changes its spots but hey, go ahead and prove me wrong.”
“Silly Missy, how could I prove that a leopard never changes its spots?” He laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t even have a leopard.”
Missy slaps herself in frustration before Tyron strides up and takes a seat, placing his title down infront of him.
“What’s the haps guys?” He asks, eyes going back and forth between Heath and Missy.
“Just Heath being a moron as per usual. I was actually thinking we should get out of here, it’s getting late.”
“Yeah, I’m fucking beat.” Heath glugs down the rest of his beer before catapulting it over into a recycling bin a few metres away.
Heath and Missy both stand up, Heath giving a little stretch as he departs from his seat and Missy maneuvering her foot around so she can get some blood flowing to it.
“Aw, seriously? I just sat down!” Tyron complains as his teammates start walking off towards the parking lot. “Always in such a rush. Sheesh.”
-
Auckland, New Zealand - 5/11/02 - Guy Fawkes
The fireworks sizzled, popped and exploded in the sky - Heaths younger siblings watched in pure amazement, looking up at him with big smiles whenever something they liked occurred. Heath loved watching them aswell, they gave him a sense of relief and like he had nothing in the world to worry about.
He was fifteen at this point, the issues with his father still hadn’t been resolved - and it had far bygone the point where they could have been resolved. Helga refused to leave him in the belief that he could somehow reclaim the sweet, honest soul he had lost through constant hardship and later - to his vehement addiction. It was unbelievable how loyal she would stay to this man - this destructive, savage, brute of a fucking man. Infact, was the word ‘man’ even right in this sense? Heath didn’t know - at this point he had no idea what it took to be a man, his fathers influence was all he knew but at least he still wasn’t stupid enough to let himself become the splitting image. The wrestling dream was still there - there was nothing he wanted more and he knew that getting himself involved with the same things Jessie partook in would only hinder his chances of getting there.
“This isn’t a fucking show.” Heath heard Jessie mutter from the porch in his rocking chair, pipe at his side and still hot from the hit he had taken only a few seconds prior. “You guys wanna see a real show?” he asked the kids, all of them cheering and accepting the offer bar Heath who knew better than to trust anything that seemed even remotely positive from his dad.
Jessie slowly got up from his seat, knees cracking as he straightened out his legs. He slipped the pipe into his pocket and marched forward over to the table where the box of fireworks was sitting. He waved his hand over them, fingers wiggling with a devious sneer as he struggled to pick just which poison would obviously be a recipe for disaster. .
He dipped his hand in, pulling out one of the bigger fireworks that was labelled as the ‘Flame Turret’. The choice caused an uproar for Heaths siblings, all three of them - James (8), Laura (11) and their foster sister Juanita (10) expressed their excitement by hopping around and screaming in joy at the expectancy of genuine entertainment. Small evil chuckles could be heard coming from their father as he stood with his back turned, facing the broken white picket fence he had at one time rammed into with his bosses Harley Davidson motorcycle he stole then had crushed somewhere so that it couldn’t be traced back to him.
Heath could tell that something was up - Jessie hadn’t put the firework on the ground yet but the sizzling of the wick being lit had already begun. His heart was beating out of his chest as he watched his brother and sisters unaware of what could be about to occur. He noticed his dad start to turn in 90 degree fashion before aiming the Flame Turret at himself and his siblings, the flame reached the end and immediately it began firing. Heath predicted the situation and in a fortunate turn of events was able to spin around, shield and cover the innocent children that had done absolutely nothing wrong.
The power of the blast sent Jessie flying off his feet and onto the road a few metres away, the Fire Turret landing upright on the ground and finishing the rest of its number high above the house and in the clouded obsidian night sky. He let out a thunderous cackle before clearing his throat and pushing himself up to his feet, looking over at his kids.
The back of Heaths shirt had been ruined, the ends of where it had been burnt open still holding bright orange leftover embers. Smoke was radiating off of his back, nasty wounds blistering up all around his spine and down on his loin. The pain had knocked him completely unconscious as he failed to respond to Lauras shoves and pushes causing her to bawl her eyes out along with the horrible act of violence she had just witnessed. Once James and Juanita came out of their stage of denial, they joined her as Jessie slowly crept forward whilst sniffing the air.
“I smell…” He paused before breathing in again, a grimace spreading from cheek to cheek. “Fried shit.”
“Daddy what did you do?!” Juanita cried out, utterly mortified.
“Don’t call me daddy you mix raced mut. Only reason you’re here is ‘cause I get four hundred a week for keepin’ you around.”
Juanita only cried more, further frustrating Jessies meth clouded brain. James tried to take her place in speaking out.
“When mummy gets home she’ll call the police!”
Jessie shook his head at his sons insolence. “You don’t get it do you? NONE of you get it. Your mother isn’t a real fucking mother at all, she’s nothing more than my fuckdoll. No matter how much she argues, she’ll always abide me in the end - meaning I’m always gonna get away with this kind of thing. You three and your brother need to start understanding that I rule the roost around here and that I’m the fucking alpha of this household. The sooner you get used to it - the better.” He walked passed them and back up onto the porch heading towards the door. “Fucking kids. Who’d have ‘em?”
-
Present Day
With a tumble and a thump, Heath finds himself on the ground beside his hotel bed drenched in a horrible cold sweat. He takes his soaked singlet off and dumps it over into the corner of the room, using the side of the bed to help boost himself up onto his feet before leaving, walking out to the kitchen and over to the sink. He twists the tap and a gush of water comes flowing out before he takes a glass and fills it to the brim, tilting his head back and consuming the entire thing to dry his perched mouth.
Why are all these things coming back to him? These things he had spent years keeping deep down and locked inside.
He hears a door open from down the hall and before long out comes a very dazed and very sleepy looking Tyron rubbing his red eyes and breathing heavily.
“Thought I heard you up.” He mumbles, lifting up his leg and letting out a ripper before hobbling over to the refrigerator and opening it, peering inside. “Damn. No milk.”
Heath turns around, leaning against the bench “Yeah you finished it before you went to bed, remember?”
Tyron takes a seat at the table in the centre of the room. “Nope, not one bit.”
“Heh, usually it’s me that forgets the little things.”
“That’s because you smoke too much pot and drink like a baby hobo from their recycled jam jar turned sippy cup.”
“Baby hobo?”
“Give me a break, it’s four in the morning - I shouldn’t even be awake right now but hey, thanks to you Mr. Hardcore Hero here I am.” He somewhat smiles, before looking up at his friend with realization. “Hold on, why are you awake?”
Heath walks over and takes a seat. “Just couldn’t sleep. You know, nightmares and shit”
“Oh yeah? What sort of nightmares?”
“The sort you don’t wanna hear about.”
“Come on man, try me.”
“Just about Jessie. For some reason, I haven’t been able to get his face out of my head lately. Feels like a bad omen.”
“Got a devil on your shoulder eh? Don’t worry man, it might not necessarily be a bad one. Maybe it can help towards your match with Cera, just picture her as him.” Tyron reassures by strategically assisting his teammate.
Heath smiles. “Yeah, I might just do that.”
Tyron stands up with a stretch and a long yawn. “Think I’m gonna head back to tinsel town.”
“Tinsel town?”
“Again - four in the morning. Night man.” He gives Heath a pat on the back before heading back off to his bedroom.
Heath smiles again, this time at his luck of having such a good friend but it quickly turns to a look of guilt as he recalls what he had said to Missy the night before, that he wouldn’t even mind claiming Tyrons Zero Gravity Championship as his own.
And that feeling…
...still hadn’t changed.
-
Auckland, New Zealand - 13/06/05 - Heaths 18th Birthday
It was a busy afternoon at Heaths cafe job, men suited up and partaking in business meetings, mothers yelling at their children for them to sit down and eat their lunch and others were just there as lone diners. Heath ran around in a fluster, clearing half-finished plates of food and cups of coffee from table to table. He delivered a few dirty bowls and platters to the dishwasher - his friend DJ who he liked to call dish bitch.
“Shit Heath,” DJ said as Heath dumped the dishes down next to him. “Slow down dude, it’s your fuckin’ birthday.”
“Nuh-uh.” declined Heath. “I gotta make cash to get out of this dump somehow, dish bitch.”
“Made enough for those tickets yet?”
“For me and one of the kids, yeah. Still nowhere near the mark, not even close to enough for a house to rent over there yet.”
“Why Oz? Why the fuck would you wanna leave the city of sails for a nation full of sheep shaggers?” DJ asked with a tone of bewilderment.
“Only sheep shagger I’ve ever met is a homegrown Kiwi lad and hisname’s dish bitch.” Heath grinned cheekily before going back over to some tables and grabbing one plate with chicken bones gnawed clean and another with bits of leftover greenery. “Someone doesn’t like their celery.” He called over to DJ, who shook his head in sarcastic disapproval.
Just as Heath turned, a bell from the top of the entrance doorway rang indicating that it had been opened. He twisted his body around to get a look at who it was, due to being paranoid of Jessie arriving and causing some kind of scene as he had been known to do in the past. To his surprise, it was somebody much different. A man with tannish skin, a growing beard and greyish hair stood in the frame, a look of surprise upon his face as he stared back at Heath who was as stiff as a statue with complete shock.
He never thought he’d see the day where he met this man again as before him was the father of Tyron Bickerton - the little boy he had once made the deal to live the wrestling dream with someday. Neither could say a word - infact, they probably just didn’t know what to say. It was like a friendly mexican stand-off, it was impossible to know which one would acknowledge the others presence first. Finally, after what seemed like eons - DJ helped them to break the ice.
“How about something along the lines of ‘Hi there, how are you?’” He suggested before Heath turned and looked at him then back to Tyrons dad.
“Been a while Heath.” The much older man greeted, taking a few steps forward and putting out his hand.
“Chip...woah, it’s great to see you!” Heath finally spat out, returning the gesture.
“Hey, why don’t we take a seat? Catch up? I know you probably eat here all the time but I’ll grab you a burger.”
“Shit, I would but-”
“Don’t worry, I’ll cover you for a while.” DJ called out with a thumbs up.
-Short Timeskip-
Heath and Chip sat at a booth in the corner of the cafe each with a burger down infront of them. Chip was the first to take a bite, a big drop of tomato sauce squirting against his white shirt. He stared down at it for a second with a look of frustration before putting the burger down and laughing it off, Heath joining him. After each having a few bites of their burgers they soon settled down and began to converse properly.
“So, how’s little Tyro?” Heath asked, curious about how the first friend he ever truly had was doing.
“He’s doing well.” Chip responded along with a nod. “Blew something up at his school science fair, should’ve seen it. Needless to say I was a proud father that day.”
Heath smiled. “I’m sure you were. Shit, I haven’t seen him since he was like what - three or four?”
“Something like that.”
“Does he remember me?”
“Are you kidding?” Chip laughed. “He doesn’t stop talking about you and the wrestling dream you convinced him into! Damn you Heath for bringing that garbage into our home! He has it playing on TV almost 24/7!”
“Heh - my apologies on that one.”
“So uh…” Chip paused, being extremely cautious and hesitant.
“You wanna ask about Jessie don’t you?” Heath replied, aware of the question before it had even been brought up.
“Well, I think you just answered my question when you didn’t refer to him as ‘dad’. Still on the crystal?”
Heath nodded.
“I was afraid of that.”
“Is that why you’re here? To check up on Jessie?” Heath asked, only now just realizing that he had no knowledge of Chips motives for being in Auckland.
“No actually, I’m here on a business trip. I’m meant to be leaving tonight, flight leaves in six hours. I was hoping I’d run into one of you though - and by some kind of miracle I did. Glad it was you and not your old man, psychotic prick he turned out to be.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
Chip stared at Heath for a good long minute - it began to feel awkward but Heath could tell it was purposeful. He was thinking about something and it was something of huge importance. He eventually spoke up, clearing his throat first.
“Heath...I think you should come back with me. It’s what would be best for you and Ty would love it aswell. What do you say?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry but I can’t leave them behind - the kids, I mean. I’m all they truly have. Mum tries to be there as much as she can but she’s too far under Jessies spell to do what’s best for them and leave. I’ve been saving cash from this place to pay for the four of us to move over there - closer to you guys - with whatever Jessies been letting me keep.”
“How much have you got?”
“Not a whole lot. Five hundred.”
Chip scratched his cheek, deep in thought once more. After another minute he snapped out of it, nodding his head. “Okay yeah we can do this. Give me what you’ve got, we’ll go pack the kids up and then that’s us. We’re off.”
“That won’t work. Think about legal issues - or missing persons issues. Jessie would get the kids back somehow.”
“It would be all of us vs. them. We could settle something in court and then we’d become their legal guardians. Don’t worry Heath, this can work if we just try.”
Heath took a seconds thought before nodding his head. “Okay. That’s it. Fine. Done deal. We’ll give it a go. Let’s hope it all works out for the best.”
-Another short Timeskip-
Chip and Heath pulled up infront of Heaths house in a red rental Nissan Bluebird, the sound of the handbrake being pulled upwards ringing in Heaths ear as he stared coldly at the front window where he could see Jessie in his favourite ragged brown armchair smoking his pipe and laughing at the television set.
“You alright?” Chip asked, giving Heath a nudge.
“Yeah, shit’s just starting to sink in - that’s all. You realize there’s gonna be some drama right?”
Chip smiled. “I’ve got your back.”
Heath nodded - thanking his friends father for the much needed assistance. He opened up the car door, stepping outside and walking up the pathway to the porch - Chip just behind him as he too got out of the car. Heath went up the short set of steps and burst in the front door, Jessie jumping out of his seat and grabbing a cricket bat due to his frequent paranoia of being busted by the police for the pounds of meth sitting in the basement. He calmed down once he realized it was just Heath.
“Fuck. You shithead, gave me a fucking heart attack. I oughta whack you with this thing.” He threatened as he lightly tapped the bat against his hand.
“Yeah, no you won’t.” Chip stated, announcing his presence and coming around the corner - Jessies jaw dropped before extending out his arms for a bro hug. “Save it, Jessie. I’m not here to rekindle my friendship with you, screw that. I’m here to take Heath and the other kids back home.”
Jessie shook his head, turning and resting his hands against his chair - gripping it in frustration. “So, I’m being betrayed again huh? First by my father - second by my mother and now by my first-born child and the guy I once called my best friend.” He turned back around, cricket bat tightly in grasp. “I really fucking hate betrayal. FUCKING HATE IT, I tell you.” He slammed the end of the bat against the back of the chair before darting his eyes back to the so-called traitors.
“You’re bringing it upon yourself. Look at you, you’re a mess. One that’s too far stained and impossible to clean up.” Chip shook his head in disgust before turning to Heath. “Where’s your room? I’ll go pack your stuff while you round up the kids.”
“Down the hall to your right.”
Chip gave him a pat on the back before disappearing down the hallway, Jessie staunched forward with the bat at the ready. He looked Heath dead in the eyes, Heath staring back carefree and stony-eyed.
“Didn’t know you could even talk. Your voice isn’t as faggoty as I imagined either but hey, congratufuckin’lations boyo.”
“Maybe the reason why you’ve never heard me talk is because I’ve never had anything to say to you - you worthless sack of shit.”
Jessie watched dumbfoundedly before finally shaking his head as the other kids ran into the room to see what the commotion was all about.
“Hear that kids? Your brother’s got a fucking deathwish.”
“You lay one fucking hand on me and it’s you that has the deathwish, Jessie.”
“What’s going on Heath?” Juanita (13) asked - somewhat frightened of the unknown ordeal.
“The four of us are leaving - that’s what’s going on. Go pack up the things you wanna take, alright? All of you.” He directed at all three of his younger siblings.
They all turned - ready to go and do as they were told but Jessie stopped them by grabbing the youngest, James (11) by the arm and making him squeal. Immediately, Heath reached out and gripped on tight to Jessies wrist, forcing him to let go before shoving him up against the wall.
“Don’t you dare try to get in the way. I’m saving them - and there’s nothing you can fucking do.”
Jessie looked in horror, flabbergasted by his sons share power. After a few moments he slowly began to laugh - the same sort of laugh a masochist would make on their deathbed.
“Think things through clearly next time you come up with a supposed full-proof plan, Heath. Sure, I can make it through life without these little fucks that are eating me out of house and home but your mother...oh no, she’s nowhere near as strong as I am. She wouldn’t make it a day knowing that every single one of her children had left her. Do you really want that? Do you really want to be the cause of your own mothers suicide, son?”
Heath slammed his forearm against Jessies throat, almost putting a hole in the wall behind Jessies head. “Don’t you dare fucking call me that, you lost that right when I was seven - the day you hit me for the first time, the day you fractured my fucking jaw.”
“He’s right.” Laura (14) announced, stepping forward.
Heaths face softened, letting Jessie go and turning to her. Jessie flopped down against the floor, taking in big, deep breaths.
“What? Laura, you need to get out of here. This kind of environment - it’s not good for you.”
“We’ll manage, Heath. Just like you did. Look - this is your ticket out, to get away from this shithole, to get away from this cunt of a fucking dad.” She explained before she kicked Jessie in the ribs, spitting down on him. “We’ll find a way to leave when our time comes. Right now, you have this opportunity of a lifetime - don’t let it go to waste. Please.”
He got down on one knee, understandingly looking at his sister in the eyes who was far too intelligent for her age. He lightly smiled, tears in his eyes as they all ran towards him - forming a big group hug. Juanita began crying loudly - James was a bit slow and didn’t have much of a reaction but he still sobbed a little bit and Laura, she was different - she snuggled against her older brother with a sincere smile, happy that his life was finally looking up. They let go as Jessie whimpered, trying to hoist himself up with door frame.
“I’ll come back for you guys, I promise.”
Laura shook her head with a cheeky grimace. “I don’t wanna see your ugly mug again ‘till it’s on TV - wrestling thirty minute matches and shooting kickass promos. Got it?”
Heath nodded with a smirk. “Got it.”
Chip came out from Heaths bedroom and trudged down the hall with several suitcases before dumping them down by the door, turning his attention to Jessie who was still trying to get up.
“What happened to him?” He laughed, slapping Heath on the back.
“Don’t even ask.”
“You guys ready to head off?” He asked the kids, Laura being the first to respond by shaking her head.
“No, we’re staying. Our mum needs us.” She looked to Heath one more time. “Now go, get outta here future World Champion.”
Heath went to comply, picking up two of his bags while Chip picked up the others before lugging them outside. Heath turned with his head down, ready to leave before Jessie stood up and took the cricket bat he had dropped in the confrontation with his son - he spun around for one last act of abuse but instead of connecting with Heath, the tip of the bat hits the open door - causing it to slam shut, glass raining down on Heaths back - several shards impaling his shoulders. Jessie laughed manically as Heath stood there, completely frozen - Chip watched on with his eyes popping out of his head. Heath slowly turned back around, languidly rotating the doorknob - Jessie glaring in complete horror as Heath very calmly walked in - one stomp of his heavy leather work boots after the other.
“Kids. Go to your rooms.” He demanded - Laura nodding and reassuring the others to do what he wanted and so they did “How does it feel for the roles to be reversed, Jessie?”
Instantaneously, Jessie swung the bat forward again but Heath caught it and tore it away from his grip - throwing it down the hall. Jessie then went for Plan B and ran through into the living room with Heath hot on his tail. He went around to the other side of his chair, cowering in his boots before trying to make a quick exit out the window. His attempt was fruitless as Heath dragged him back through by the ankle before throwing him into the chair and kicking it over, Jessie doing a backwards roll into the television set that dropped from its table and down onto him sending a surge of electricity through his body. He wasn’t dead but he was defeated - accepting it as he laid down face-first twitching and groaning. Heath sniffed at the air.
“I smell…” he snickered as he bent down. “Fried shit.” He leaned in, right beside Jessies ear. “I’ll be calling every Sunday. If word gets to me that you’ve done anything to physically or mentally damage those kids, I’ll come back to end your miserable fucking life. That isn’t a threat either - it’s a fucking promise.”
He stood back up and looked at the menace that had ruined his childhood one last time before going back towards the door, heading out and picking his suitcases back up in each hand - meeting Chip at the car where he stood waiting, leaning against its side.
“Knew you could handle it by yourself.” He stated before pointing up at an upstairs window. “Might wanna give one final wave goodbye.”
Heath looked up, his siblings saying their farewells with their eyes - he did the same thing before opening up the car door and ducking inside - Chip following. He started up the Nissan, putting it into gear and pressing his foot down, the house and Heaths siblings quickly disappeared from view.
“Where was your mum?” Chip asked, with a frown.
“Working.”
“Where?”
“Let’s not get into that one.”
-
Present Day
*REC
We see the scarred back of a shirtless dark haired man kneeling down infront of a projector screen, staring up at it. The film begins by showing Heath Williams and Tyron Bickerton standing in a ring across from two average looking wrestlers that clearly aren’t as geared up as their opponents. The cameras slide outwards to reveal the ring apron - ECWo printed along its side. There’s a montage of the now known Requiem completely decimating the other two followed by Tyron hitting some sort of twist of fate that is referred to as the ‘Not Bad Luck’ by the commentators and scoring a pinfall. They are then each shown holding a piece of championship gold that share the same markings, standing tall in the centre of the ring as the opposition try to get back up to their feet.
“Here are your winners and the inaugural ECWo Tag Team Champions...The Williams Duo!”
The scene quickly changes to an arena that has ‘Elite Bebo Wrestling’ plastered around everywhere, the cameras drift down to the ring where Heath and Tyron stand once more - this time at the opposite corner. One of the members from the opposite team looks to be some sort of rival of Heaths - as they share words before locking up, Tyron and the other guy exiting the ring - letting the foes go at it. Another montage begins of an epic classic tag team match that ends with Heath slamming his rivals partner with the ‘Emofication’ - something we now know as ‘Frozen Over’ to pick up the victory. This is now their second set of tag titles won in the professional industry.
We are now being shown the two making their entrance in a federation being called RCW by the commentators. Their opponents stand in the ring raising their championships as The Williams Duo roll in amped and ready. It becomes clear that the bout is being set in Tornado style as all the competitors begin duking it out instantly - however it ends faster than you can say ‘new tag team champions’ as Heath and Tyron each deal out their finishers simultaneously, scoring a fall on each of the opposition at the exact same time. They’ve done it yet again - what some might call a wrestling hat-trick - the third reign of their tag team success had begun.
The man with the scars who has obviously now been identified as Heath Williams slowly stands up - eyes still pointed at the screen that has now faded to white. The beam of the projector illuminates the entire wall, joining a silhouette of Heaths shadow. He clears his throat - but that doesn’t stop his current tone from being on the raspy side.
“The Williams Duo...heh, feels like it was just yesterday Tyron was dubbing himself with the name Taylor - the both of us bullshitting to everyone that we were blood brothers. Shit was cash, neither of us had a care in the world back then - we just wanted to wrestle. Things have changed a bit since though - now we want success, gold and to be the best damn tag team this companies ever seen. We want aspiring wrestlers or even some of the other Visionaries in the back to watch us in the ring and allow us to influence them into wanting that same goal so that we can all build a division of unbreakable alliances. Following that, Cera and Dathyn - you’ve officially been put on notice. The Requiem is fucking coming for you.
Now that’s been said - I can finally get to what everyone’s probably been wondering through this entire promo thus far. These scars, what the fuck are they? Well, I’ll tell you. These scars - they represent obstacles. Obstacles I had to overcome throughout my life to finally make it here to where I’m at today.”
He finally turns around, eyes directed at the camera lens.
“Like how The Orphanage were just obstacles the Breakthrough before last, like how Dathyn was just an obstacle the next and like how you’ll just be an obstacle at Darkest Hour, Cera. One that I’ll make sure to overthrow and shin kick a couple times. You see, I’m kinda loving this match-up as a little birdie tells me you share the same passion for Hardcore wrestling as I do - meaning, I know that this is gonna be one hell of a fucking fight.
Do me a favour, bring me your A-game and nothing but - because this is only the second match of what will become a historical feud between two tag teams that want nothing but pure fucking domination over the other.
Get ready for the anarchy, Cera.
Get ready for the fucking anarchy.
Fin.
“You worthless piece of fucking shit!” Jessie Williams yelled at the top of his lungs, sending a hard right fist toward Helga - Heaths mother.
She lunged backwards, going spine first into the wall of Heaths bedroom as his eyelids tore themselves apart - the ten year old boy forced awake by the intense volume of his parents nightly argument. He swiftly turned around in his bed and sat up, his wrestling printed duvet flew off of him and onto the ground - he stared in complete horror as his father slowly walked in, one stomp of his hard leather work boots after another. He held in his hand a glass crack pipe that he inhaled from whilst wearing the black-toothed grin that Heath knew all too well.
He and his mother would call it the possessed look - it was the look that Jessie would get when his mind was lost into the abyss of an empty bag that once contained the purest crystal meth. This look would occur every day of every week of every month, despite Jessie telling Heath and Helga that moving back to New Zealand and away from the brutal heated climate of Australia would cure him of his nasty, almost cataclysmic addiction. It had been two years since then and his routine of coming home from work and finishing a gram worth of crystal hadn’t even come close to changing. Helga constantly spoke up about how this evil, factitious narcotic had destroyed the man she whom she deeply loved but that would only make his intake increase - he began to enjoy not being the generic good-loving husband and father his family yearned for.
“You know what, bitch?” Jessie asked rhetorically as he stalked forward coming right in close to Helgas face. “I think you need a little pick-me-up.”
He extended the pipe up towards Helgas mouth but she shook her head at a rapid speed with unpleasant squeals and screams that jarred on the ears. Jessie cringed, recoiling at the high pitch directed straight towards his eardrums. He slapped her across her cheek, leaving a big red hand print and nearly sending her into a state of shock. He reached around her neck and took a handful of her long flowing brunette hair yanking it back and taking complete control.
“Please...Jessie...stop…” Helga uttered as she was reduced to nothing but quiet pleads.
“Stop? Babe, I’m only just starting.” He replied with a smirk to match as he raised the pipe further to her lips. “Open up sweet cheeks - the choo choo train’s a comin’!”
Heath had had enough as he launched himself up out of bed and over to the scene, arms out ready to deal out some damage and save his mum but unfortunately Jessies jumped up, drug fuelled mind didn’t miss a beat as he took a step back and put a foot out, tripping Heath up against the grey carpet he hated so much. He raised the pipe high above his head before hurling it down at his sons back, glass shattering against his skin - the brown oils from the burnt down meth oozing onto his shoulder blade. Helga fell to her knees, crawling over to her son that lay face-first on the floor writhing in pain.
“Do you understand what you’ve just done, boy?”
Jessie kicked Helga back, a yelp escaping her lips as she collided with the wall once more. He knelt down on one knee, dusting up the little pieces of glass from Heaths back and staring at them rolling around in his hand. He shook his head, jaw clenched and nostrils flared before turning his attention to the back of Heaths head.
“Turn around and look at me.” Heath didn’t comply, staying flat on his stomach which only angered his father further. “I SAID TURN AROUND AND FUCKING LOOK AT ME!”
He bolted up, sending a stern right foot into Heaths side and forcing him around onto his back. The young boy stared up at him with eyes full of abhorrence, the only thing Heath wanted to do right now was reach up and break his bastard fathers neck but his youthful mind was still able to consider the fact he wasn’t strong enough to match Jessies pure insanity.
“That pipe...Heath, was my favourite. Do you know how long I’ve had that pipe? Three FUCKING weeks! That was a record of mine, A FUCKING RECORD THAT YOUR ARROGANCE JUST FUCKING RUINED!” Jessie sent three more almost omnipotent kicks into Heaths arm, a loud snap occurring after the third and Heath with a blood-curdling, tormented screech. “What the fuck was that? You wanna be a wrestler don’t you, boy? Then grow a fucking sack and learn how to handle a bit of fucking pain.”
“You broke his arm!” Helga cried out, tears streaming down the sides of her face. “Tomorrow’s his birthday...and your gift...IS A BROKEN FUCKING ARM?!”
Jessie shrugged, turning the other way. “Better than what my dad ever gave me.”
Helga crawled over to Heath as Jessie departed from the room, sobbing as she looked over his arm, shaking her head and pulling him into a big motherly hug.
“I know I haven’t been there for you very much baby...but that changes from here on out, mkay? I’ll do the best I can to protect you from that wretched man…and tomorrow, you’ll be getting a nice birthday present for once, one that you deserve. Thank you for standing up to him when I couldn’t sweetie.” She gave him a peck on the forehead as he snuggled against her, using her shirt to wipe away his tears.
Little did Heath know…
-
Present Day
It’s funny how memories work - they can surprise you at anytime, even if the memories are in no way related to where you are or what you’re doing. Sometimes it’s almost like your brain’s trying to bring you back down into the pits of despair even when you’re happily loving life and sometimes it’s the reverse. None of it makes sense to Heath, especially with how he was recalling one of the many terrifying moments of his childhood when he’s only chilling out in the backstage area of the Murray Ice Rink with an ice cold celebratory brewski in hand following his clash with Dathyn.
“Hey Heath.” a soft feminine voice comes from behind.
Heath looks up to see Missy limping around him before she takes a seat from across the table his beer rests on. He raises two eyebrows as a substitute for greeting her.
“How’s that ankle?” He asks, watching her try to get comfortable.
“It’s okay, don’t need the crutches anymore so that’s a plus. Have you seen Tyron anywhere?”
“Yeah he’s just getting his nose checked out again, apparently it got a little agitated during his match with Iser.”
“Ah, no good. Congrats on the win though, that finisher was great. You should’ve heard the pop you received.”
“Oh I did. Still, is it wrong to say I want more?” Heath asks, folding his arms and biting his bottom lip.
“What do you mean?” Missy replies adjusting her foot so it’s stretched out and leaning against the table leg.
“The adulation of the fans - as much as I love it...it’s just not completely cutting it for me. I want gold, Miss. Really fucking badly. It’s getting to the point where I don’t care if it’s those Twin City straps, the World title or even Tyro’s Zero Gravity Championship. And I hate thinking that way, knowing that I wouldn’t even mind taking the thing my best friend worked so fucking hard for.”
“Just go for the one that’ll get you the most money.”
They share a laugh, Heath taking another sip from his 8% party in a bottle.
“I’ve never been in it for the money. I’ve only ever been in it to become the best. Believe it or not, that’s my #1 addiction. Fucking success.”
“Well, hey - you’re already well on your way. I mean, unofficially pinning English last week? Decimating Dathyn this week? That’s two Champions right there then you’ve got a third at the PPV so if you win there then hey, I don’t think gold’s too far away in your future.” Missy explains, informing Heath of the plans management has for him at Darkest Hour
His eyes light up. “Huh? Who’s my opponent?”
“Cera.”
“Oh, she’s the hot one right?”
“Jesus Heath.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “You’re sitting there saying you want success but now all you care about is if ‘she’s the hot one’?”
“Lighten up. I was kidding.” He thinks for a second. “Actually, I wasn’t. But I’m not gonna get distracted from what matters most.”
“You better not.”
“Have some faith, I beat Katie Moicelle didn’t I?”
“Yeah well, I’m just saying - you’ve always had a knack for shortening your attention span when there’s a pair of boobs around. You can’t afford to be so dimwitted this time.”
Heaths smirks. “My attention span didn’t seem to shorten when you were at ringside last week.”
Missy rolls her eyes. “That’s different. We hate eachother.”
“Is it though? Because my thing is - maybe I’m just finally growing up. Maybe shit like that doesn’t best me anymore.”
“Well, I’ve always been under the impression that a leopard never changes its spots but hey, go ahead and prove me wrong.”
“Silly Missy, how could I prove that a leopard never changes its spots?” He laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t even have a leopard.”
Missy slaps herself in frustration before Tyron strides up and takes a seat, placing his title down infront of him.
“What’s the haps guys?” He asks, eyes going back and forth between Heath and Missy.
“Just Heath being a moron as per usual. I was actually thinking we should get out of here, it’s getting late.”
“Yeah, I’m fucking beat.” Heath glugs down the rest of his beer before catapulting it over into a recycling bin a few metres away.
Heath and Missy both stand up, Heath giving a little stretch as he departs from his seat and Missy maneuvering her foot around so she can get some blood flowing to it.
“Aw, seriously? I just sat down!” Tyron complains as his teammates start walking off towards the parking lot. “Always in such a rush. Sheesh.”
-
Auckland, New Zealand - 5/11/02 - Guy Fawkes
The fireworks sizzled, popped and exploded in the sky - Heaths younger siblings watched in pure amazement, looking up at him with big smiles whenever something they liked occurred. Heath loved watching them aswell, they gave him a sense of relief and like he had nothing in the world to worry about.
He was fifteen at this point, the issues with his father still hadn’t been resolved - and it had far bygone the point where they could have been resolved. Helga refused to leave him in the belief that he could somehow reclaim the sweet, honest soul he had lost through constant hardship and later - to his vehement addiction. It was unbelievable how loyal she would stay to this man - this destructive, savage, brute of a fucking man. Infact, was the word ‘man’ even right in this sense? Heath didn’t know - at this point he had no idea what it took to be a man, his fathers influence was all he knew but at least he still wasn’t stupid enough to let himself become the splitting image. The wrestling dream was still there - there was nothing he wanted more and he knew that getting himself involved with the same things Jessie partook in would only hinder his chances of getting there.
“This isn’t a fucking show.” Heath heard Jessie mutter from the porch in his rocking chair, pipe at his side and still hot from the hit he had taken only a few seconds prior. “You guys wanna see a real show?” he asked the kids, all of them cheering and accepting the offer bar Heath who knew better than to trust anything that seemed even remotely positive from his dad.
Jessie slowly got up from his seat, knees cracking as he straightened out his legs. He slipped the pipe into his pocket and marched forward over to the table where the box of fireworks was sitting. He waved his hand over them, fingers wiggling with a devious sneer as he struggled to pick just which poison would obviously be a recipe for disaster. .
He dipped his hand in, pulling out one of the bigger fireworks that was labelled as the ‘Flame Turret’. The choice caused an uproar for Heaths siblings, all three of them - James (8), Laura (11) and their foster sister Juanita (10) expressed their excitement by hopping around and screaming in joy at the expectancy of genuine entertainment. Small evil chuckles could be heard coming from their father as he stood with his back turned, facing the broken white picket fence he had at one time rammed into with his bosses Harley Davidson motorcycle he stole then had crushed somewhere so that it couldn’t be traced back to him.
Heath could tell that something was up - Jessie hadn’t put the firework on the ground yet but the sizzling of the wick being lit had already begun. His heart was beating out of his chest as he watched his brother and sisters unaware of what could be about to occur. He noticed his dad start to turn in 90 degree fashion before aiming the Flame Turret at himself and his siblings, the flame reached the end and immediately it began firing. Heath predicted the situation and in a fortunate turn of events was able to spin around, shield and cover the innocent children that had done absolutely nothing wrong.
The power of the blast sent Jessie flying off his feet and onto the road a few metres away, the Fire Turret landing upright on the ground and finishing the rest of its number high above the house and in the clouded obsidian night sky. He let out a thunderous cackle before clearing his throat and pushing himself up to his feet, looking over at his kids.
The back of Heaths shirt had been ruined, the ends of where it had been burnt open still holding bright orange leftover embers. Smoke was radiating off of his back, nasty wounds blistering up all around his spine and down on his loin. The pain had knocked him completely unconscious as he failed to respond to Lauras shoves and pushes causing her to bawl her eyes out along with the horrible act of violence she had just witnessed. Once James and Juanita came out of their stage of denial, they joined her as Jessie slowly crept forward whilst sniffing the air.
“I smell…” He paused before breathing in again, a grimace spreading from cheek to cheek. “Fried shit.”
“Daddy what did you do?!” Juanita cried out, utterly mortified.
“Don’t call me daddy you mix raced mut. Only reason you’re here is ‘cause I get four hundred a week for keepin’ you around.”
Juanita only cried more, further frustrating Jessies meth clouded brain. James tried to take her place in speaking out.
“When mummy gets home she’ll call the police!”
Jessie shook his head at his sons insolence. “You don’t get it do you? NONE of you get it. Your mother isn’t a real fucking mother at all, she’s nothing more than my fuckdoll. No matter how much she argues, she’ll always abide me in the end - meaning I’m always gonna get away with this kind of thing. You three and your brother need to start understanding that I rule the roost around here and that I’m the fucking alpha of this household. The sooner you get used to it - the better.” He walked passed them and back up onto the porch heading towards the door. “Fucking kids. Who’d have ‘em?”
-
Present Day
With a tumble and a thump, Heath finds himself on the ground beside his hotel bed drenched in a horrible cold sweat. He takes his soaked singlet off and dumps it over into the corner of the room, using the side of the bed to help boost himself up onto his feet before leaving, walking out to the kitchen and over to the sink. He twists the tap and a gush of water comes flowing out before he takes a glass and fills it to the brim, tilting his head back and consuming the entire thing to dry his perched mouth.
Why are all these things coming back to him? These things he had spent years keeping deep down and locked inside.
He hears a door open from down the hall and before long out comes a very dazed and very sleepy looking Tyron rubbing his red eyes and breathing heavily.
“Thought I heard you up.” He mumbles, lifting up his leg and letting out a ripper before hobbling over to the refrigerator and opening it, peering inside. “Damn. No milk.”
Heath turns around, leaning against the bench “Yeah you finished it before you went to bed, remember?”
Tyron takes a seat at the table in the centre of the room. “Nope, not one bit.”
“Heh, usually it’s me that forgets the little things.”
“That’s because you smoke too much pot and drink like a baby hobo from their recycled jam jar turned sippy cup.”
“Baby hobo?”
“Give me a break, it’s four in the morning - I shouldn’t even be awake right now but hey, thanks to you Mr. Hardcore Hero here I am.” He somewhat smiles, before looking up at his friend with realization. “Hold on, why are you awake?”
Heath walks over and takes a seat. “Just couldn’t sleep. You know, nightmares and shit”
“Oh yeah? What sort of nightmares?”
“The sort you don’t wanna hear about.”
“Come on man, try me.”
“Just about Jessie. For some reason, I haven’t been able to get his face out of my head lately. Feels like a bad omen.”
“Got a devil on your shoulder eh? Don’t worry man, it might not necessarily be a bad one. Maybe it can help towards your match with Cera, just picture her as him.” Tyron reassures by strategically assisting his teammate.
Heath smiles. “Yeah, I might just do that.”
Tyron stands up with a stretch and a long yawn. “Think I’m gonna head back to tinsel town.”
“Tinsel town?”
“Again - four in the morning. Night man.” He gives Heath a pat on the back before heading back off to his bedroom.
Heath smiles again, this time at his luck of having such a good friend but it quickly turns to a look of guilt as he recalls what he had said to Missy the night before, that he wouldn’t even mind claiming Tyrons Zero Gravity Championship as his own.
And that feeling…
...still hadn’t changed.
-
Auckland, New Zealand - 13/06/05 - Heaths 18th Birthday
It was a busy afternoon at Heaths cafe job, men suited up and partaking in business meetings, mothers yelling at their children for them to sit down and eat their lunch and others were just there as lone diners. Heath ran around in a fluster, clearing half-finished plates of food and cups of coffee from table to table. He delivered a few dirty bowls and platters to the dishwasher - his friend DJ who he liked to call dish bitch.
“Shit Heath,” DJ said as Heath dumped the dishes down next to him. “Slow down dude, it’s your fuckin’ birthday.”
“Nuh-uh.” declined Heath. “I gotta make cash to get out of this dump somehow, dish bitch.”
“Made enough for those tickets yet?”
“For me and one of the kids, yeah. Still nowhere near the mark, not even close to enough for a house to rent over there yet.”
“Why Oz? Why the fuck would you wanna leave the city of sails for a nation full of sheep shaggers?” DJ asked with a tone of bewilderment.
“Only sheep shagger I’ve ever met is a homegrown Kiwi lad and hisname’s dish bitch.” Heath grinned cheekily before going back over to some tables and grabbing one plate with chicken bones gnawed clean and another with bits of leftover greenery. “Someone doesn’t like their celery.” He called over to DJ, who shook his head in sarcastic disapproval.
Just as Heath turned, a bell from the top of the entrance doorway rang indicating that it had been opened. He twisted his body around to get a look at who it was, due to being paranoid of Jessie arriving and causing some kind of scene as he had been known to do in the past. To his surprise, it was somebody much different. A man with tannish skin, a growing beard and greyish hair stood in the frame, a look of surprise upon his face as he stared back at Heath who was as stiff as a statue with complete shock.
He never thought he’d see the day where he met this man again as before him was the father of Tyron Bickerton - the little boy he had once made the deal to live the wrestling dream with someday. Neither could say a word - infact, they probably just didn’t know what to say. It was like a friendly mexican stand-off, it was impossible to know which one would acknowledge the others presence first. Finally, after what seemed like eons - DJ helped them to break the ice.
“How about something along the lines of ‘Hi there, how are you?’” He suggested before Heath turned and looked at him then back to Tyrons dad.
“Been a while Heath.” The much older man greeted, taking a few steps forward and putting out his hand.
“Chip...woah, it’s great to see you!” Heath finally spat out, returning the gesture.
“Hey, why don’t we take a seat? Catch up? I know you probably eat here all the time but I’ll grab you a burger.”
“Shit, I would but-”
“Don’t worry, I’ll cover you for a while.” DJ called out with a thumbs up.
-Short Timeskip-
Heath and Chip sat at a booth in the corner of the cafe each with a burger down infront of them. Chip was the first to take a bite, a big drop of tomato sauce squirting against his white shirt. He stared down at it for a second with a look of frustration before putting the burger down and laughing it off, Heath joining him. After each having a few bites of their burgers they soon settled down and began to converse properly.
“So, how’s little Tyro?” Heath asked, curious about how the first friend he ever truly had was doing.
“He’s doing well.” Chip responded along with a nod. “Blew something up at his school science fair, should’ve seen it. Needless to say I was a proud father that day.”
Heath smiled. “I’m sure you were. Shit, I haven’t seen him since he was like what - three or four?”
“Something like that.”
“Does he remember me?”
“Are you kidding?” Chip laughed. “He doesn’t stop talking about you and the wrestling dream you convinced him into! Damn you Heath for bringing that garbage into our home! He has it playing on TV almost 24/7!”
“Heh - my apologies on that one.”
“So uh…” Chip paused, being extremely cautious and hesitant.
“You wanna ask about Jessie don’t you?” Heath replied, aware of the question before it had even been brought up.
“Well, I think you just answered my question when you didn’t refer to him as ‘dad’. Still on the crystal?”
Heath nodded.
“I was afraid of that.”
“Is that why you’re here? To check up on Jessie?” Heath asked, only now just realizing that he had no knowledge of Chips motives for being in Auckland.
“No actually, I’m here on a business trip. I’m meant to be leaving tonight, flight leaves in six hours. I was hoping I’d run into one of you though - and by some kind of miracle I did. Glad it was you and not your old man, psychotic prick he turned out to be.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
Chip stared at Heath for a good long minute - it began to feel awkward but Heath could tell it was purposeful. He was thinking about something and it was something of huge importance. He eventually spoke up, clearing his throat first.
“Heath...I think you should come back with me. It’s what would be best for you and Ty would love it aswell. What do you say?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry but I can’t leave them behind - the kids, I mean. I’m all they truly have. Mum tries to be there as much as she can but she’s too far under Jessies spell to do what’s best for them and leave. I’ve been saving cash from this place to pay for the four of us to move over there - closer to you guys - with whatever Jessies been letting me keep.”
“How much have you got?”
“Not a whole lot. Five hundred.”
Chip scratched his cheek, deep in thought once more. After another minute he snapped out of it, nodding his head. “Okay yeah we can do this. Give me what you’ve got, we’ll go pack the kids up and then that’s us. We’re off.”
“That won’t work. Think about legal issues - or missing persons issues. Jessie would get the kids back somehow.”
“It would be all of us vs. them. We could settle something in court and then we’d become their legal guardians. Don’t worry Heath, this can work if we just try.”
Heath took a seconds thought before nodding his head. “Okay. That’s it. Fine. Done deal. We’ll give it a go. Let’s hope it all works out for the best.”
-Another short Timeskip-
Chip and Heath pulled up infront of Heaths house in a red rental Nissan Bluebird, the sound of the handbrake being pulled upwards ringing in Heaths ear as he stared coldly at the front window where he could see Jessie in his favourite ragged brown armchair smoking his pipe and laughing at the television set.
“You alright?” Chip asked, giving Heath a nudge.
“Yeah, shit’s just starting to sink in - that’s all. You realize there’s gonna be some drama right?”
Chip smiled. “I’ve got your back.”
Heath nodded - thanking his friends father for the much needed assistance. He opened up the car door, stepping outside and walking up the pathway to the porch - Chip just behind him as he too got out of the car. Heath went up the short set of steps and burst in the front door, Jessie jumping out of his seat and grabbing a cricket bat due to his frequent paranoia of being busted by the police for the pounds of meth sitting in the basement. He calmed down once he realized it was just Heath.
“Fuck. You shithead, gave me a fucking heart attack. I oughta whack you with this thing.” He threatened as he lightly tapped the bat against his hand.
“Yeah, no you won’t.” Chip stated, announcing his presence and coming around the corner - Jessies jaw dropped before extending out his arms for a bro hug. “Save it, Jessie. I’m not here to rekindle my friendship with you, screw that. I’m here to take Heath and the other kids back home.”
Jessie shook his head, turning and resting his hands against his chair - gripping it in frustration. “So, I’m being betrayed again huh? First by my father - second by my mother and now by my first-born child and the guy I once called my best friend.” He turned back around, cricket bat tightly in grasp. “I really fucking hate betrayal. FUCKING HATE IT, I tell you.” He slammed the end of the bat against the back of the chair before darting his eyes back to the so-called traitors.
“You’re bringing it upon yourself. Look at you, you’re a mess. One that’s too far stained and impossible to clean up.” Chip shook his head in disgust before turning to Heath. “Where’s your room? I’ll go pack your stuff while you round up the kids.”
“Down the hall to your right.”
Chip gave him a pat on the back before disappearing down the hallway, Jessie staunched forward with the bat at the ready. He looked Heath dead in the eyes, Heath staring back carefree and stony-eyed.
“Didn’t know you could even talk. Your voice isn’t as faggoty as I imagined either but hey, congratufuckin’lations boyo.”
“Maybe the reason why you’ve never heard me talk is because I’ve never had anything to say to you - you worthless sack of shit.”
Jessie watched dumbfoundedly before finally shaking his head as the other kids ran into the room to see what the commotion was all about.
“Hear that kids? Your brother’s got a fucking deathwish.”
“You lay one fucking hand on me and it’s you that has the deathwish, Jessie.”
“What’s going on Heath?” Juanita (13) asked - somewhat frightened of the unknown ordeal.
“The four of us are leaving - that’s what’s going on. Go pack up the things you wanna take, alright? All of you.” He directed at all three of his younger siblings.
They all turned - ready to go and do as they were told but Jessie stopped them by grabbing the youngest, James (11) by the arm and making him squeal. Immediately, Heath reached out and gripped on tight to Jessies wrist, forcing him to let go before shoving him up against the wall.
“Don’t you dare try to get in the way. I’m saving them - and there’s nothing you can fucking do.”
Jessie looked in horror, flabbergasted by his sons share power. After a few moments he slowly began to laugh - the same sort of laugh a masochist would make on their deathbed.
“Think things through clearly next time you come up with a supposed full-proof plan, Heath. Sure, I can make it through life without these little fucks that are eating me out of house and home but your mother...oh no, she’s nowhere near as strong as I am. She wouldn’t make it a day knowing that every single one of her children had left her. Do you really want that? Do you really want to be the cause of your own mothers suicide, son?”
Heath slammed his forearm against Jessies throat, almost putting a hole in the wall behind Jessies head. “Don’t you dare fucking call me that, you lost that right when I was seven - the day you hit me for the first time, the day you fractured my fucking jaw.”
“He’s right.” Laura (14) announced, stepping forward.
Heaths face softened, letting Jessie go and turning to her. Jessie flopped down against the floor, taking in big, deep breaths.
“What? Laura, you need to get out of here. This kind of environment - it’s not good for you.”
“We’ll manage, Heath. Just like you did. Look - this is your ticket out, to get away from this shithole, to get away from this cunt of a fucking dad.” She explained before she kicked Jessie in the ribs, spitting down on him. “We’ll find a way to leave when our time comes. Right now, you have this opportunity of a lifetime - don’t let it go to waste. Please.”
He got down on one knee, understandingly looking at his sister in the eyes who was far too intelligent for her age. He lightly smiled, tears in his eyes as they all ran towards him - forming a big group hug. Juanita began crying loudly - James was a bit slow and didn’t have much of a reaction but he still sobbed a little bit and Laura, she was different - she snuggled against her older brother with a sincere smile, happy that his life was finally looking up. They let go as Jessie whimpered, trying to hoist himself up with door frame.
“I’ll come back for you guys, I promise.”
Laura shook her head with a cheeky grimace. “I don’t wanna see your ugly mug again ‘till it’s on TV - wrestling thirty minute matches and shooting kickass promos. Got it?”
Heath nodded with a smirk. “Got it.”
Chip came out from Heaths bedroom and trudged down the hall with several suitcases before dumping them down by the door, turning his attention to Jessie who was still trying to get up.
“What happened to him?” He laughed, slapping Heath on the back.
“Don’t even ask.”
“You guys ready to head off?” He asked the kids, Laura being the first to respond by shaking her head.
“No, we’re staying. Our mum needs us.” She looked to Heath one more time. “Now go, get outta here future World Champion.”
Heath went to comply, picking up two of his bags while Chip picked up the others before lugging them outside. Heath turned with his head down, ready to leave before Jessie stood up and took the cricket bat he had dropped in the confrontation with his son - he spun around for one last act of abuse but instead of connecting with Heath, the tip of the bat hits the open door - causing it to slam shut, glass raining down on Heaths back - several shards impaling his shoulders. Jessie laughed manically as Heath stood there, completely frozen - Chip watched on with his eyes popping out of his head. Heath slowly turned back around, languidly rotating the doorknob - Jessie glaring in complete horror as Heath very calmly walked in - one stomp of his heavy leather work boots after the other.
“Kids. Go to your rooms.” He demanded - Laura nodding and reassuring the others to do what he wanted and so they did “How does it feel for the roles to be reversed, Jessie?”
Instantaneously, Jessie swung the bat forward again but Heath caught it and tore it away from his grip - throwing it down the hall. Jessie then went for Plan B and ran through into the living room with Heath hot on his tail. He went around to the other side of his chair, cowering in his boots before trying to make a quick exit out the window. His attempt was fruitless as Heath dragged him back through by the ankle before throwing him into the chair and kicking it over, Jessie doing a backwards roll into the television set that dropped from its table and down onto him sending a surge of electricity through his body. He wasn’t dead but he was defeated - accepting it as he laid down face-first twitching and groaning. Heath sniffed at the air.
“I smell…” he snickered as he bent down. “Fried shit.” He leaned in, right beside Jessies ear. “I’ll be calling every Sunday. If word gets to me that you’ve done anything to physically or mentally damage those kids, I’ll come back to end your miserable fucking life. That isn’t a threat either - it’s a fucking promise.”
He stood back up and looked at the menace that had ruined his childhood one last time before going back towards the door, heading out and picking his suitcases back up in each hand - meeting Chip at the car where he stood waiting, leaning against its side.
“Knew you could handle it by yourself.” He stated before pointing up at an upstairs window. “Might wanna give one final wave goodbye.”
Heath looked up, his siblings saying their farewells with their eyes - he did the same thing before opening up the car door and ducking inside - Chip following. He started up the Nissan, putting it into gear and pressing his foot down, the house and Heaths siblings quickly disappeared from view.
“Where was your mum?” Chip asked, with a frown.
“Working.”
“Where?”
“Let’s not get into that one.”
-
Present Day
*REC
We see the scarred back of a shirtless dark haired man kneeling down infront of a projector screen, staring up at it. The film begins by showing Heath Williams and Tyron Bickerton standing in a ring across from two average looking wrestlers that clearly aren’t as geared up as their opponents. The cameras slide outwards to reveal the ring apron - ECWo printed along its side. There’s a montage of the now known Requiem completely decimating the other two followed by Tyron hitting some sort of twist of fate that is referred to as the ‘Not Bad Luck’ by the commentators and scoring a pinfall. They are then each shown holding a piece of championship gold that share the same markings, standing tall in the centre of the ring as the opposition try to get back up to their feet.
“Here are your winners and the inaugural ECWo Tag Team Champions...The Williams Duo!”
The scene quickly changes to an arena that has ‘Elite Bebo Wrestling’ plastered around everywhere, the cameras drift down to the ring where Heath and Tyron stand once more - this time at the opposite corner. One of the members from the opposite team looks to be some sort of rival of Heaths - as they share words before locking up, Tyron and the other guy exiting the ring - letting the foes go at it. Another montage begins of an epic classic tag team match that ends with Heath slamming his rivals partner with the ‘Emofication’ - something we now know as ‘Frozen Over’ to pick up the victory. This is now their second set of tag titles won in the professional industry.
We are now being shown the two making their entrance in a federation being called RCW by the commentators. Their opponents stand in the ring raising their championships as The Williams Duo roll in amped and ready. It becomes clear that the bout is being set in Tornado style as all the competitors begin duking it out instantly - however it ends faster than you can say ‘new tag team champions’ as Heath and Tyron each deal out their finishers simultaneously, scoring a fall on each of the opposition at the exact same time. They’ve done it yet again - what some might call a wrestling hat-trick - the third reign of their tag team success had begun.
The man with the scars who has obviously now been identified as Heath Williams slowly stands up - eyes still pointed at the screen that has now faded to white. The beam of the projector illuminates the entire wall, joining a silhouette of Heaths shadow. He clears his throat - but that doesn’t stop his current tone from being on the raspy side.
“The Williams Duo...heh, feels like it was just yesterday Tyron was dubbing himself with the name Taylor - the both of us bullshitting to everyone that we were blood brothers. Shit was cash, neither of us had a care in the world back then - we just wanted to wrestle. Things have changed a bit since though - now we want success, gold and to be the best damn tag team this companies ever seen. We want aspiring wrestlers or even some of the other Visionaries in the back to watch us in the ring and allow us to influence them into wanting that same goal so that we can all build a division of unbreakable alliances. Following that, Cera and Dathyn - you’ve officially been put on notice. The Requiem is fucking coming for you.
Now that’s been said - I can finally get to what everyone’s probably been wondering through this entire promo thus far. These scars, what the fuck are they? Well, I’ll tell you. These scars - they represent obstacles. Obstacles I had to overcome throughout my life to finally make it here to where I’m at today.”
He finally turns around, eyes directed at the camera lens.
“Like how The Orphanage were just obstacles the Breakthrough before last, like how Dathyn was just an obstacle the next and like how you’ll just be an obstacle at Darkest Hour, Cera. One that I’ll make sure to overthrow and shin kick a couple times. You see, I’m kinda loving this match-up as a little birdie tells me you share the same passion for Hardcore wrestling as I do - meaning, I know that this is gonna be one hell of a fucking fight.
Do me a favour, bring me your A-game and nothing but - because this is only the second match of what will become a historical feud between two tag teams that want nothing but pure fucking domination over the other.
Get ready for the anarchy, Cera.
Get ready for the fucking anarchy.
Fin.
