Post by - The Hardcore Hero on May 7, 2016 21:51:02 GMT -6
“What a fucking night…” I mutter to myself as I collapse against my bed, front first.
A toxicology exam...a goddamn fucking toxicology exam.
I roll over on my back before staring up at the ceiling, its canvas pretty much blank apart from the several lights scattered across. The thought of drinking a nice, cold beer enters my mind, consumes it. I can almost taste the malted barley, yeast and carbonated water on the tip of my tongue. My mouth waters before I force myself to sit up, I need to get rid of the proverbial forbidden fruit before it brainwashes me. With a bit of a struggle, I push myself up onto my feet and limp towards the door, passing through into the hallway and making the quick journey into the kitchen where I go over to the refrigerator, opening the door.
There it sits, the glorious, angelic twelve pack of Colt 45 lager calling out my name, the sound of harps to accompany it. With a shaky hand, I reach out and take one from its packaging before pulling the tab back and listening to that beautiful sound of compressed air leaving the can. It’s like music to my ears.
What damage could one sip do…?
No.
With my free hand, I take the casing from the fridge before going over and putting it down by the sink with a thump. The can I’ve already opened finds all of its contents being poured down the plughole, as does each of its brothers and sisters while I repeat the process until the entire pack is gone and no longer able to retrieve. My eyes in a trance, I watch the 6.10% alcohol being wasted on a drain that can’t feel its effects.
I dig into my pocket, pulling out my carton of cigarettes, however as I take hold, I hear something fall against the floor. Looking down, I see a plastic baggy of about two and a half grams of weed laying beside my feet. After putting my carton down, I crouch over and pick up the baggy, the perfect little green buds staring back at me with the crystallized THC gleaming as the lighting above touches them.
Scrambling, I rush around to find my pipe, it’s sitting on the arm of the sofa. I take it in my hand and waste no time in pulling out a nugget from the baggy and placing it inside the cone piece. After putting the baggy down and getting hold of my lighter, I spark the flint and a flame roars to life. I direct it over to the cone and brace myself for smoke to begin circulating throughout my lungs but just before the flame and weed come into contact, I let the button of the lighter go.
Look at you. It hasn’t even been four hours and you’re already itching to get on a buzz. Pathetic. You do this, you’re letting Tyron win.[/i]
I walk over to the sliding door that takes me out onto the balcony before throwing the pipe and baggy over the side with no remorse. I’ll never let Tyron win that easily. I’ll never let anyone win that easily. Two weeks of complete sobriety, here I come.
(From here on, the style of this RP will be different to what I usually do, it’s a one-off and by the time my next match comes rolling around I will be going back to the ol’ first person gimmick.)
---
*REC
Day One
We fade in to see Heath Williams sitting on a cozy looking armchair, staring off to his left, a beam of sunlight painted against his face. He turns his attention to the camera lens, not appearing to be very happy. However, he doesn’t appear to be angry, or upset either. There isn’t much expression sitting upon his face at all, something that isn’t very typical of The Hardcore Hero.
“Hi.” he says in a raspy tone, reaching over to the little coffee table in front of him and taking his carton of cigarettes. He takes one out and puts it in between his lips before lighting the tip and inhaling a vast amount of nicotine.
“Been a shitty day. No booze. No pot. No nothin’.” He sighs, slumping into his chair, looking up as he exhales a cloud of smoke. “It’s like two in the afternoon and this is all I’ve been doing. All day. Sitting here, smoking cigarette after fucking cigarette. Not getting any type of feeling whatsoever.”
His eyes float back over to the camera as he positions his neck so that it’s comfortable. “You happy, Bickerton? This what you wanted? You think I’m gonna crack. You don’t think I’ll be able to handle this for two weeks straight. You’re wrong. I’m gonna rock into Breakthrough #45, take that test and pass with flying fucking colours. Just you wait. Just you fucking wait.”
The picture dissolves to black and Heath can no longer be seen.
---
Day Two
This time as we fade in, we notice that Heath’s elsewhere, he’s on a balcony and not the same armchair he was sitting on during the first entry. He picks up the camera and we can no longer see him, instead we’re introduced to the suburban like buildings of Saginaw.
“I actually kinda like this place.” We hear Heath’s voice admit, a smile hidden within the comment. “It’s not too over the top, you know? Saginaw doesn’t have any unnecessary skyscrapers that are clearly just compensating for something. It’s modest, has a certain character. The scenery has been helping me quite a lot.”
The sound of a lighter occurs and within a moment, we can see a stream of smoke enter the field of vision. Heath turns the camera to his face and smiles.
“I can make it through this. I will make it through this.”
The lens is quickly directed at the ground, catching a glimpse of Heath’s feet before the camera is shut off.
---
Day Three
The scene opens but Heath is nowhere within view and instead we’re presented with the same armchair as the first entry. All of a sudden, we see an unidentifiable object slam against the wall behind the chair with a loud thud to match.
“Fucking TV remote! Doesn’t wanna do what I fucking tell it to! Goddamn it!” Heath appears, face red and full of fury. He takes a seat, shaking his head. “I swear, technologies out to fucking get me. Everything’s out to fucking get me. I need a fucking drink.”
His phone begins to ring from his pocket and he reaches in before pulling it out and taking a look at the screen. His demeanor quickly shifts, he appears to be happier now. Looking over at the camera he puts up a single finger, signalling that he’ll only be a moment. He answers and sits back, grin spreading across his face.
“Hey my boy, how’s it going?
That’s good, got a girlfriend yet?” He chuckles, “Please, you’re a Williams. We Williams boys are irresistible to the women.
Give it five years mate, you’ll be partying and slaying bitches in no time.
Uh, yeah, not too bad...day three now.
Don’t worry, kiddo. I won’t. I’ve had tougher challenges than this, if I can make it through those then this should be a piece of piss.” The smile fades as the muffled voice on the other end, assumingly Ryan’s, says something that’s clearly of serious nature.
“Well, no...it isn’t...but hey, I’m The Hardcore Hero. Like hell I’m gonna let sobriety be the thing that takes me down.” The smile once again finds its home.
“Thank you, my son. I love you too. Take care of yourself, okay? And make sure you’re good for your mother. Buh-bye my boy.”
Heath hangs up and puts his phone down beside him, the smile seemingly imprinted on his face. He looks at the camera.
“Ryan just told me he believes in me. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard him utter those words. If I had any doubt in my mind before that phone call about this whole sobriety thing, it’s been completely extinguished. Although it’s difficult, I’m going to push through this with two iron palms. I don’t know what sort of mood swings I’m going to go through within the next ten days, all I know is that it most certainly won’t be pretty. However, it’s all just part of the process.” Heath sits forward, his smile morphing into a grimace. “The process I need to go through in order to be granted the chance to kick that hefty son of a bitches ass.”
With that, the scene begins to fade, last thing seen being that of Heath’s expression of near lunacy.
---
Day Five
We’re introduced with a plump man, snoring his head off. As we can tell from the surroundings and the loud chatter, this guy is currently situated on a plane. The camera slowly sways to the right and it becomes evident that the man has his head resting against somebody's shoulder. After a few moments, we’re presented with an unimpressed Heath, watching the man sleep the entire journey away.
“This is what happens when you fly in Coach.” He states with a roll of the eyes.
He points the camera at the window and off in the distance we can see the skyline of Chicago. We’re turned back to Heath, who is unwrapping a lollipop with his teeth. He rips the foil off and spits it on the ground before putting the stick of pure sugar and diabetes into his mouth. He nods his head a couple times, approving the flavour.
“Cherry. Not bad.
Anyway, I didn’t make any entries yesterday, was too busy. I almost cracked, actually...a sexy latina chick offered to buy me a few drinks if I went to bed with her crippled friend that was confined to a body brace. I declined the booze, still banged the crippled chick though. I know what you’re thinking, ‘why Heath, why?’ and well, the answer to that is...I needed something to get my mind off shit. Besides, it wasn’t that bad of an experience. The chick was really cool, let me steal a couple comics from her collection to give to Ryan. Plus, she really knew how to use her lips. I actually remember her name too, which isn’t something I’d usually be able to do under the influence.
She kinda made me realize that lounging around and doing nothing won’t help me get through this so I decided before heading off to Chicago Ridge, I’m gonna stop in Urbana to partake in a skydive. Haven’t done that in a good five years, so I’m looking forward to it. I’m actually gonna buy a GoPro, so that all of you can be there to witness what happens.”
Out of nowhere, the unconscious man raises his hand which comes into contact with Heath’s face. Heath clenches his eyes shut before taking the man’s wrist and twisting it in a violent manner, the man wakes up with a yelp, Heath points the camera at his face, his eyes are as wide as someone who’s just seen a ghost.
“Okay, listen here you fat fuck.” Heath snaps, his grip tightening. “You’re gonna stay awake for the remainder of this trip and if I catch you drifting off for even a second, I’ll take this arm of yours and shove it so far up your fucking ass that you’ll be too scared to shit for the next year and a fucking half. You got that?”
The man slowly nods, quivering in his seat. “Y-y-yes sir.”
“Good.” Heath smiles, taking the lollipop from his mouth and holding it out in front of the guy’s face. “Now, eat this.”
“B-b-but...it has your spit on it…”
Heath gives him a stern look and within a matter of seconds, he leans his neck forward before getting ready to take hold of the lollipop in between his teeth. When it’s a mere inch away, Heath snatches it back, nostrils flaring.
“You trying to eat my lollipop, bitch?!”
The look of confused fear on the guy’s face could either be considered amusing, or tragic. There is no in between. He has no idea what to say and it’s pretty clear that Heath’s just playing games with him. Heath releases his grasp but the man won’t stop glaring at him with terror radiating from his eyes.
“Don’t look at me.” Heath orders, the man instantly changing position and darting his attention to the seat in front of him. Heath looks at the camera with a smirk. “Fucking chump.”
He fumbles around before the scene flashes to black.
---
Day Six
We can’t see Heath, but we can see several other people staring out the windows of a plane much smaller than the last. We hear them talking amongst themselves, everyone seems to be pretty ecstatic for what’s about to take place.
“So, any of you done this sorta thing before?” We hear Heath’s voice say, the camera tilting and indicating that it’s strapped to his head.
He gets a good response, just about everyone says they’ve done it a couple times before in the past. Apart from one middle-aged woman, who looks absolutely horrified.
“I’ve never done anything like this before. My son brought me passes for my birthday, I’m having a mini panic attack. What happens if the parachute doesn’t pull?! What happens if I pass out mid-jump?! What happens if...if...if…”
“Woah, chillax, lady. You’ve got an instructor with you. There’s only about a 10% chance any of that’s even gonna happen.”
“10%?! TEN PERCENT?![/b]”
The instructor strapped to the woman has a bit of a giggle and gives Heath a thumbs up. Apparently riling the jumpers up like this is a common activity.
“We ready yet, Stu?” We hear the instructor assumingly strapped to Heath call out.
“Yeah, pal.” The pilot’s voice comes over the intercom.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, who’s up first?”
“I think soccer mum should go.” Heath pipes up, to everyone else's delight.
“No! No! No! Let someone else go first!” The lady cries, nobody really paying attention as the instructor guides her to the open door. “You can’t...you can’t do this!”
“You ready?” Her instructor asks politely, checking on her.
“No! Please don’t! I beg you!”
We see Heath’s arm reach out and push the back of the woman’s instructor, causing them both to go spiralling outside. We can hear her screams of pure terror as Heath pops his head out the door to get a look.
“Happy Birthday Gertrude!”
“Your turn now, Heath?” His instructor asks.
“Fuck yeah! Let’s do this shit! Can we do a somersault?”
“Sure, why not. Let’s do a goddamn somersault.”
We crouch with Heath and his instructor at the door, before launching into the air, nothing visible apart from a couple of clouds and the almost overbearing colour of sky blue. Within a moment, all that changes and they direct themselves to be staring straight down before doing a full 360 spin. We can hear Heath’s shouts as the adrenaline pumps throughout his body, he extends a hand in front of the GoPro and pulls a thumbs up. We continue to come closer and closer with the ground, anyone with vertigo probably would’ve passed out by this point. Suddenly, we hear the parachute blast out from behind the instructor like a shotgun before the sound of strong winds glide past us.
A ringtone version of “Little Pills’ by Devilskin starts to play, the instructor seems quite bewildered by this.
“The hell? What’s that sound?” He asks rhetorically, not expecting Heath to know the answer.
“That’d be my cellphone.”
“What?! You’re not supposed to bring your phone on the jump!”
“You aren’t? My bad. Ah well. Too late now.”
Once the tone comes to its climax, we’re slowly descended towards the ground before landing safely in an open field where spectators are already waiting. A man comes up to the camera and unstraps Heath from the instructor. Almost immediately, Heath’s phone screen comes into view as he climbs to his feet. He turns the phone on and within a split second, the words “One missed call” come up.
“So, did you have fun?” The instructor asks Heath with a tap on the back, his face coming into view for the first time as Heath spins around.
He’s pretty lanky, blonde haired, has a little pimple on his chin. It actually kind of looks like he’s a recent high school graduate.
“Yeah, it was cool, cheers for that.” Heath says with a nod before his phone starts going off again. “I’ve gotta take this, might be my son.”
He turns again and begins walking towards the skydive headquarters, presumably to give the attire back. He raises the phone to his ear and seeing as it’s so close to the GoPro, we’re able to hear the connection from both ends.
“Hello?”
“Hi there, Mr. Williams, this is Ms. Sangue’s assistant’s assistant’s assistant!” A bubbly, cheerful voice answers.
“There’s three assistants?”
“Four, actually. I have one of my own, too.”
“I see...all of you chicks?” He asks slyly, clearly with a hidden agenda.
“No, the person I work for is a man.”
“Well, there goes that idea out the window. Anyway, what can I do for you?”
“Um, well, listen, Ms. Sangue knows that you’re injured, okay? However...she’s booked you a match for the upcoming Breakthrough. Main Event, too.”
Heath goes quiet for a moment, “Yeah? Against who?”
“Casanova English, sir.”
Along with Heath we peer off into the distance, we can almost sense the smile spreading across his face like peanut butter over a slice of bread. He looks down at his arm and pinches his bicep, before letting out a slight chuckle.
“Nope, not dreamin’.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Nothing. Tell Sangue I’ll be there and that I’ll be ready for a good ol’ fashioned tussle.”
“Great! You have a good day, Mr. Williams, train hard!”
The call ends and Heath puts his phone away before unbuckling his helmet and holding it out in front of him. There’s no mistake about it, he’s over the moon, this is the happiest he’s been since that moment he won the I4NI Championship, right before Tyron turned his back on him.
“As fun as that skydive was, it didn’t give me that feeling I was looking for...but now, hearing this...I’ve got my distraction from booze, my distraction from narcotics...Casanova English, the next seven days of my time will be specially devoted to building up the ability I need in order to take your sorry ass down. Clearly, I’m not one hundred percent now but by the time we’re standing centre ring, staring at eachother, dead in the eyes, I’ll be physically rejuvenated and when that final bell rings, I will be the one walking out victorious.”
He turns the GoPro off and once again, we’re met with a black screen.
---
Day Eight
Heath puts the camera down on a shelf and sets it up so it’s pointing straight at a blue mat, however we’ve still got a view of its surroundings, from what we can see there’s an abundance of different gym equipment around the room, as well as people using it. There’s a guy in the back going all out on the rowing machine, sweat dripping off of him like he’s a melting popsicle.
“Keep it up, Chuck!” Heath encouragingly calls out to him before going over and kneeling on the mat. He looks up at the camera. “So, I was going to use the GoPro yesterday while I went for a run around Chicago but I completely forgot about grabbing it on my way out so I made sure to bring the camera along today. As you can clearly see, I’m at the gym. Now, my body’s still not the best, the run yesterday took a lot out of me so I figured I need to gain my strength back. I’m gonna start with some basic cardio routines. First, push-ups. Let’s see how many I can do.”
He starts off rather impressively, it’s apparent that his yesterday’s run has pushed up his stamina. After twenty-five, it looks as if his arms are beginning to strain but that doesn’t stop him from pushing on. He manages to get to forty-two before flopping against the floor.
“Fuck…” he mutters as he rolls over, having trouble with his breathing. “I need to keep going. I only have five more days.”
He turns back to his front and puts two flat palms against the mat before starting again, right back at the number one. We can see the wear and tear in his eyes as he pushes himself to get to his second set of ten for this round. This carries on until he hits forty-three, however, the very second he gets it, he falls once again. We see his jaw clench, his eyes clench, he’s on the verge of beating himself up.
“Quit being so weak…quit being so fucking weak...At this rate, you’ll never beat English…never...” He stares back up at the camera for a few moments before getting up and hobbling over on spaghetti legs. “I’ll be back in two days to showcase how much I’ve improved. Until then.”
He turns it off, leaving us with the cliffhanger of if he’ll be able to find his way out of this rut or not.
---
Day Ten
It doesn’t appear as if the position of the camera has changed at all, we see Heath walking away from it before kneeling back down on the mat, looking up at us with a smug expression. He firmly places his hands down and begins, this time he’s fully pumping it out, making it to twenty push-ups in a flash. Within moments he’s at thirty, then forty, then fifty! He’s not done there either, he powers all the way through to one hundred before stopping. It doesn’t look like he’s even broken a sweat.
“I could keep going but that’d just be showing off. Next up, a hundred jumping jacks.” He announces as he stands.
The same thing occurs as the push-ups, he’s clearly forced his body to be accustomed to all this exercise, one could only wonder about the sort of punishment he’s put himself through these past couple days. He stops at his mark of a hundred jumping jacks, slight perspiration visible on his forehead.
“I think you guys get the picture. Now, it’s time to brush up on my in-ring ability.” He makes way over to the camera and picks up his phone that must’ve been sitting beside it. He dials in a number before putting it to his ear. A few moments go by before there’s an answer. “Hey, Dusko. Long time no chat...hey, you don’t happen to be anywhere near Chicago, do you?
Really?! Bloomington?!
Well, I was wondering if you could come out these ways and help me train.
Yeah, I know I’m injured but I’m a lot better now. Besides, I’ve got a big match this coming Breakthrough.
Who against? Uhh...well, English.”
“CASANOVA ENGLASH?!” We hear an estranged accent scream through the phone, those two words being all we can make out.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine though, you know, if you come help me train.
Awesome, you’ll do it? Great! I’ll see you tomorrow man.” His tone begins to drop, he’s feeling uncomfortable with something. “Uh...sure…
What?! You want me to say it?!
For crying out loud. Fine.
I love you too, Dusko.”
He hangs up, shaking his head. “That guy’s way too affectionate...anyway, stay tuned for tomorrow where Dusko Varesanovic and I step into the ring and go toe to toe for the first time ever! Ka Kite everybody!”
---
Day Eleven
We rotate around a room, we’re obviously at some kind of performance centre as there’s a wrestling ring sitting contently in the middle. The camera becomes fixated on the set of double doors at the front of the building.
“Any moment now…” we hear Heath say as we zoom in.
The doors are shoved open and in walks a clearly foreign man dressed in nothing but a pair of wrestling boots and technicolour tights, he has his arms extended like he’s coming in for a hug. He approaches us and Heath with a sincere grin.
“Bring it in my brudda from anudda mudda!” He wraps himself around Heath and squeezes him, the camera going black as his body covers the lens. “It is good to see jou, Heaf! It has been so long!”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Dusko told jou not to be such a stranger! But jou decide to be stranger anyway!”
“Been busy, sorry dude. Should we get started?”
Dusko takes a few steps back and looks over towards the doors, “Not yet, Dusko has surprise for jou!”
They open again and within a moment, we can see two large breasts come around the corner, however, whoever’s the foundation of these breasts stops for a second.
“Wow, now that’s a chest...” Heath mutters, clearly awestruck.
Dusko snickers, right before the owner of the breasts comes around the corner, it’s a man...with a purse. Not an obese man though, so his breasts are definitely not natural. He has a slightly skinny physique as becomes more obvious when he struts forward, making way over to Heath and Dusko.
“What’s the matter, Heathy? You look as if you’ve never seen a guy with tits before!” He says with an extremely flamboyant voice.
“Well...I haven’t…”
The man comes closer and rests his hands on Heath’s shoulders. “I’ve missed you, Heathy, you beautiful man.”
“Uhh, yeah, likewise, Manny.”
Heath moves the camera back so that Dusko and this ‘Manny’ are in full view. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Dusko Varesanovic and Remanuel Urebay. The three of us were a team back in the World Turmoil Federation, they called us Awesome 24/7. We were certainly an oddly grouped bunch but that’s what made it work so well.”
“Not to mention Heathy and I were in love!” Manny squeals.
Heath points the lens at his own face, shaking his head. “No we weren’t.” We go back to Manny. “Why are you here, anyway?”
“Dusko told me about your little situation and I decided I wanted to help out! With my training and with Dusko as your sparring partner, you’ll be in tip top shape in no time!”
“No way, you’re not training me. I know exactly what your training consists of and I ain’t doing any of that shit.”
“Oh come on Heaf!” Dusko says with a pat on the back. “Jou know it works!”
“I am not, playing baseball with dildos, I repeat, I am not playing baseball with fucking dildos.”
Manny giggles, putting a hand over his mouth. “Oh Heathy, I cater my way of training to whoever the trainee is. All that dildo stuff back in FBW was specially designed for Dusko because of the fool he is. I know that the only way to train you, is to let you fight. You know, with some words of encouragement by mwah, of course.”
“So...no dildos then?”
“No dildos. Pinky swear.” Manny puts his hand out, little finger extended.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Okay, let’s get this show on the road. Heathy, Dusko, go get in the ring.”
Heath hands Manny the camera before going over to the ring and rolling in underneath the bottom rope. Dusko follows, except he climbs the steps beside the corner and jumps over the top. Heath stands and the two shake hands before parting ways and taking a few steps back from each other.
“This match is scheduled for one fall,” Manny announces, “First, to your left, is the Kalberkaderkastan native himself, Dusko Varesanovic! And to your right is VoW I4NI Champion, Heath Williams! Commence!”
Dusko wastes no time, dropping Heath with a clothesline before nailing him with several standing elbow drops. Heath rolls over to his feet and backs into the corner, spine touching the turnbuckle. It’s clear that he’s still not one hundred percent, despite the intense work out routine he’s put himself through the last few days.
Suddenly, Dusko comes in at full force, plummeting against his slow starting opponent. Heath goes to topple over but Dusko catches him, before taking hold of Heath’s downstairs with firm grip.
“Oh no! Here it is, Dusko’s patented Testicular Claw!” Manny commentates with the utmost enthusiasm in his voice.
We can hear the pain in Heath’s strained cries before Dusko decides to put him out of his misery, taking his hand away from Heath’s crotch and bringing his arm up, wrapping it around Heath’s neck and performing a snapmare-driver. He steps back, getting his arm at the ready. After a few moments, Heath shows some life and struggles back to his feet however, it probably would’ve been in his best interest to stay down as Dusko comes into contact with his face, using a spinning forearm.
“And the Lothario! That’s Dusko’s finishing maneuver!”
Heath falls flat against his back and Dusko goes to make the cover. Manny quickly runs over, using his free hand to reach under the bottom rope and slap against the canvas.
“One! Two! Three! Here is your winner, Dusko Varesanovic!”
“I won!” Dusko gets up before jumping around cheerfully.
Manny points the camera at Heath, who opens his eyes with a sigh. “I don’t get it. You haven’t wrestled in years...how is it you were able to reduce me to nothing?”
“Dusko practices his old moveset every day. It is good work out.”
Heath tilts his head over to Manny, “What happened to the encouragement?”
“That match was a test. You failed, terribly. To think that Heathy boy Williams has been humiliated like this. It’s a shame, it appears what Tyron’s done has forced you to lose that same old confidence you once had. Either that, or it’s because you don’t have enough gas in the tank.”
“By gas, you mean alcohol and drugs, right?”
“The petrol of Heath Williams, yes.”
Heath sighs again, looking up at the ceiling. “Shut the camera off.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want my fans to see me this way. I’ve built up this reputation over the years as a guy with steel skin, blood of a warrior and the survival instinct of a wolf. The next time they see me, I want to be like that again. Nothing less. So please, Manny...turn the camera off.”
“Okay, Heathy. Turning it off.”
After the depressing scene of a man that feels he’s lost it all, we’re left to wonder what will happen next.
---
Day Thirteen
When the picture comes back, we’re presented with Manny hushing towards the lens, he turns us around so that we can see what’s going on in the ring. Heath’s doing much better in this fight and looks as if he may just win this one.
“They’ve been going at it like this for the last hour, neither wants to give up. Heathy because he’s hell bent on regaining who he is and Dusko, well, I think his reason is because he just wants Heathy’s mojo to get flowing again.”
Within a split second, Dusko turns the tides and pulls Heath into a roll-up. Manny scurries over to make the count.
“One! Two! Three! Dusko wins again!”
Immediately, Heath bolts up, the frustration setting in. He shoves Dusko into the corner before going in the opposite direction and taking it out on the turnbuckle, several punches, one after the other.
“Fuck this shit! Twenty-Four rounds and I still haven’t won! I’m fucking done with wrestling. Screw Bickerton, screw English, screw VoW. I’m out.” He climbs out of the ring and starts walking towards the doors.
“Where are jou going?!” Dusko calls out.
“To go get a fucking drink.”
Along with Manny, we chase after him. “No! You can’t give up now!”
“Give me one good fucking reason.”
“I didn’t want to have to show you this...but...you’ve left me no choice.”
Heath stops, half turning his head. Manny pulls out his smart phone and begins to play a video, it’s of Tyron Bickerton, interviewing some guy named Stanley Hayes. We quickly find out that Hayes is a ruined businessman, his hostel and bourbon brewing company apparently destroyed by The Hardcore Hero himself. Manny turns off the footage once Tyron’s finished talking about Heath. We wait for him to speak but he says nothing for what seems like a lifetime. He just stands there, staring into nothing.
“Heath?” Manny asks, trying to get his attention.
“Bullshit. That was all bullshit. None of that happened. Not in that way. How dare those bastards stretch the truth...he’s trying to turn everyone against me…”
He turns back to face us, the look in his eyes has shifted to collect a menacing nature. With staunch shoulders, he trudges over to the ring and gets back in, Manny follows with the camera. He punches Dusko square in the jaw, initiating another fight. Dusko attempts a punch of his own but it’s in vain, Heath catches it, tossing it aside before hitting another. He uses his shin to sweep away at Dusko’s feet, who slams against the canvas. Heath runs towards the ropes and bounces off of them, connecting Dusko with a spear the second he gets back up.
“Woah! See! I knew you had it in you Heathy!”
Heath doesn’t respond, instead he grabs Dusko by the forearms and drags him over to the corner, kicking him a few times in the cheek to assure he stays down. He sits him up against the bottom turnbuckle and ascends the post on the other side. He leaps off with a coast to coast, kangaroo legs catapulting right into Dusko’s face.
“Heaven to Hell! Heaven to Hell! Heathy could win it here, folks!”
However, instead of choosing the path of victory he yanks Dusko up to his feet and plants him with Frozen Over. He still isn’t finished though as he picks Dusko up, shoulders to shoulders, his arms wrapped around Dusko’s legs, pulling them down.
“No! Heathy! That’s enough! Put him down, win the match!”
“Shut the fuck up Urebay!”
The Kinniku Buster hits, Dusko’s completely unconscious. Yet...Heath carries on...he’s lost his mind, if not permanently then definitely temporarily. He rolls out of the ring, pulling Dusko along with him before dumping his foreign friend on the floor. He goes over to a table beside the wall on the far side of the room and dusts everything off of its surface before picking it up and dragging it over so that it’s about a metre away from the ring. After picking up Dusko, he places him on top of the table before going off to grab a nearby chair. He rolls back into the ring and sets the chair up so it’s nice and close to the corner. He takes a couple steps back before leaping up onto the chair then making the jump over to the turnbuckle and finally, flying off with a legdrop that causes the table to explode into many little bits and pieces.
“NO! HEATH!” Manny runs over, crying as he kneels down beside Dusko, checking his wounds.
“Crying’s for babies.” Heath says coldly before ripping the camera out of Manny’s hands and staring into it.
“I don’t think it sunk in until I heard the audio to that video...I don’t think I even wanted to let it sink in...our bond has been completely severed. Those four championship reigns as partners...gone...that brotherhood we had growing up...gone...the promise we made as kids...gone…” His face screws up, he no longer cares. “Fine. Have it your way. You’ve only been weighing me down anyway and no, that’s not a fucking play at your size, I’m dead serious. Do you know how many opportunities I’ve gone without because of you? Let’s just say, it’s a fucking lot. I can’t wait to see your face when I pass this exam...and better yet, I can’t wait to see your face when I destroy you at Fate of the Gods...but until then, I’ve got stepping stones to take care of…
Which brings me to my opponent at Breakthrough tonight, yes, the man himself, World Visionary Champion, Casanova English!” He says with extreme sarcasm before starting to pace backwards and forwards.
“What a Main Event this should be..huh? I4NI Champion duking it out with Mr. World Vish’ himself...Now, it’s no secret that the last two occasions we’ve been in the ring together haven’t exactly worked out in my favour...but this time’s different...I know it, English knows it, everyone knows it.
You see, this time...neither of us have a team in our corner…this time we’re going one on one, for the first time ever. That means, no distractions and no relying on others for back-up...it means, independence, two warriors battling it out, trying to put one's own skill over the other’s…it means that I finally achieve the goal I made for myself the day I walked into this company…
Defeating, Casanova English.
Every time I walk into a new federation, I choose the one guy that stands out amongst the rest, the guy that I know is either of legendary status or at least well on his way, the guy that is considered to be the best in the business. That was no different for VoW. The minute I saw him, my eyes were set, deadlocked. At the time, Valquist was the World Champ but English managed to outshine even that of the golden world title plate…
To the average human eye, English is a douchebag with a cigarette hanging out his mouth, an asshole with a jacket flung over his shoulder, a son of a bitch with a bunch of lost children trailing after him. However, it takes somebody with abilities like mine to see the truth, to see that he truly is an enigma…
He and I, as different as we are...we have the same eyes. Eyes that have seen similar pain, eyes that want similar things but from different aspects, eyes that are searching for our destinies. I hear English’s words now, “destiny? I’ve found my destiny! I’m the World Visionary Champion!”...however, deep down he knows that this is only the tip of the iceberg, when another opportunity perhaps even greater comes along, he will lie, cheat and con his way until it’s been achieved.
See, this is where our differences come into play. If I were to be given the same opportunity, I would fight, tear my heart out and pour my entire soul into it. Cutting corners is too easy, there’s no sense of challenge and although the reward is there, there’s no real sense of accomplishment.
What I’m trying to say is, though we’re both warriors in our own right, the tactics in warfare we each have are from two completely different sides of the spectrum and I believe that all these things I have stated are the reasons as to why I chose him from the get go. So different, yet so alike.
However...I’m actually starting to wish this match was on a different date…
Why? You might ask? Because funnily enough...a sober Heath with a grudge isn’t one with a clear head...a sober Heath with a grudge is something to be afraid of...something you’d want to hide from...usually I like my opponent to have the same hard fought experience as I...however, something tells me...it’s not going to be like that this time…
It’s time this animal is taken off the leash it’s been on for the last fortnight...the leash of sobriety...but before that can be done, I must tear a hole straight through The Modern Day Messiah and straight through this test...at the end of the night, there’ll be a mug of the finest lager waiting for me, sitting right next to a joint of the skunkiest strains of weed...and knowing that will be my fuel.”
He points the camera towards Manny, who is helping Dusko to his feet with an arm wrapped around his neck. Manny doesn’t take his eyes off Heath the entire time he walks past, towards the door.
“Remanuel. I hope that the next time we meet, will be under different circumstances.”
More tears come to Manny’s eyes, “Me too, Heathy...me too…”
The scene closes and for the final time, we’re left in complete darkness.
[/font]
Fin.
A toxicology exam...a goddamn fucking toxicology exam.
I roll over on my back before staring up at the ceiling, its canvas pretty much blank apart from the several lights scattered across. The thought of drinking a nice, cold beer enters my mind, consumes it. I can almost taste the malted barley, yeast and carbonated water on the tip of my tongue. My mouth waters before I force myself to sit up, I need to get rid of the proverbial forbidden fruit before it brainwashes me. With a bit of a struggle, I push myself up onto my feet and limp towards the door, passing through into the hallway and making the quick journey into the kitchen where I go over to the refrigerator, opening the door.
There it sits, the glorious, angelic twelve pack of Colt 45 lager calling out my name, the sound of harps to accompany it. With a shaky hand, I reach out and take one from its packaging before pulling the tab back and listening to that beautiful sound of compressed air leaving the can. It’s like music to my ears.
What damage could one sip do…?
No.
With my free hand, I take the casing from the fridge before going over and putting it down by the sink with a thump. The can I’ve already opened finds all of its contents being poured down the plughole, as does each of its brothers and sisters while I repeat the process until the entire pack is gone and no longer able to retrieve. My eyes in a trance, I watch the 6.10% alcohol being wasted on a drain that can’t feel its effects.
I dig into my pocket, pulling out my carton of cigarettes, however as I take hold, I hear something fall against the floor. Looking down, I see a plastic baggy of about two and a half grams of weed laying beside my feet. After putting my carton down, I crouch over and pick up the baggy, the perfect little green buds staring back at me with the crystallized THC gleaming as the lighting above touches them.
Scrambling, I rush around to find my pipe, it’s sitting on the arm of the sofa. I take it in my hand and waste no time in pulling out a nugget from the baggy and placing it inside the cone piece. After putting the baggy down and getting hold of my lighter, I spark the flint and a flame roars to life. I direct it over to the cone and brace myself for smoke to begin circulating throughout my lungs but just before the flame and weed come into contact, I let the button of the lighter go.
Look at you. It hasn’t even been four hours and you’re already itching to get on a buzz. Pathetic. You do this, you’re letting Tyron win.[/i]
I walk over to the sliding door that takes me out onto the balcony before throwing the pipe and baggy over the side with no remorse. I’ll never let Tyron win that easily. I’ll never let anyone win that easily. Two weeks of complete sobriety, here I come.
(From here on, the style of this RP will be different to what I usually do, it’s a one-off and by the time my next match comes rolling around I will be going back to the ol’ first person gimmick.)
---
*REC
Day One
We fade in to see Heath Williams sitting on a cozy looking armchair, staring off to his left, a beam of sunlight painted against his face. He turns his attention to the camera lens, not appearing to be very happy. However, he doesn’t appear to be angry, or upset either. There isn’t much expression sitting upon his face at all, something that isn’t very typical of The Hardcore Hero.
“Hi.” he says in a raspy tone, reaching over to the little coffee table in front of him and taking his carton of cigarettes. He takes one out and puts it in between his lips before lighting the tip and inhaling a vast amount of nicotine.
“Been a shitty day. No booze. No pot. No nothin’.” He sighs, slumping into his chair, looking up as he exhales a cloud of smoke. “It’s like two in the afternoon and this is all I’ve been doing. All day. Sitting here, smoking cigarette after fucking cigarette. Not getting any type of feeling whatsoever.”
His eyes float back over to the camera as he positions his neck so that it’s comfortable. “You happy, Bickerton? This what you wanted? You think I’m gonna crack. You don’t think I’ll be able to handle this for two weeks straight. You’re wrong. I’m gonna rock into Breakthrough #45, take that test and pass with flying fucking colours. Just you wait. Just you fucking wait.”
The picture dissolves to black and Heath can no longer be seen.
---
Day Two
This time as we fade in, we notice that Heath’s elsewhere, he’s on a balcony and not the same armchair he was sitting on during the first entry. He picks up the camera and we can no longer see him, instead we’re introduced to the suburban like buildings of Saginaw.
“I actually kinda like this place.” We hear Heath’s voice admit, a smile hidden within the comment. “It’s not too over the top, you know? Saginaw doesn’t have any unnecessary skyscrapers that are clearly just compensating for something. It’s modest, has a certain character. The scenery has been helping me quite a lot.”
The sound of a lighter occurs and within a moment, we can see a stream of smoke enter the field of vision. Heath turns the camera to his face and smiles.
“I can make it through this. I will make it through this.”
The lens is quickly directed at the ground, catching a glimpse of Heath’s feet before the camera is shut off.
---
Day Three
The scene opens but Heath is nowhere within view and instead we’re presented with the same armchair as the first entry. All of a sudden, we see an unidentifiable object slam against the wall behind the chair with a loud thud to match.
“Fucking TV remote! Doesn’t wanna do what I fucking tell it to! Goddamn it!” Heath appears, face red and full of fury. He takes a seat, shaking his head. “I swear, technologies out to fucking get me. Everything’s out to fucking get me. I need a fucking drink.”
His phone begins to ring from his pocket and he reaches in before pulling it out and taking a look at the screen. His demeanor quickly shifts, he appears to be happier now. Looking over at the camera he puts up a single finger, signalling that he’ll only be a moment. He answers and sits back, grin spreading across his face.
“Hey my boy, how’s it going?
That’s good, got a girlfriend yet?” He chuckles, “Please, you’re a Williams. We Williams boys are irresistible to the women.
Give it five years mate, you’ll be partying and slaying bitches in no time.
Uh, yeah, not too bad...day three now.
Don’t worry, kiddo. I won’t. I’ve had tougher challenges than this, if I can make it through those then this should be a piece of piss.” The smile fades as the muffled voice on the other end, assumingly Ryan’s, says something that’s clearly of serious nature.
“Well, no...it isn’t...but hey, I’m The Hardcore Hero. Like hell I’m gonna let sobriety be the thing that takes me down.” The smile once again finds its home.
“Thank you, my son. I love you too. Take care of yourself, okay? And make sure you’re good for your mother. Buh-bye my boy.”
Heath hangs up and puts his phone down beside him, the smile seemingly imprinted on his face. He looks at the camera.
“Ryan just told me he believes in me. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard him utter those words. If I had any doubt in my mind before that phone call about this whole sobriety thing, it’s been completely extinguished. Although it’s difficult, I’m going to push through this with two iron palms. I don’t know what sort of mood swings I’m going to go through within the next ten days, all I know is that it most certainly won’t be pretty. However, it’s all just part of the process.” Heath sits forward, his smile morphing into a grimace. “The process I need to go through in order to be granted the chance to kick that hefty son of a bitches ass.”
With that, the scene begins to fade, last thing seen being that of Heath’s expression of near lunacy.
---
Day Five
We’re introduced with a plump man, snoring his head off. As we can tell from the surroundings and the loud chatter, this guy is currently situated on a plane. The camera slowly sways to the right and it becomes evident that the man has his head resting against somebody's shoulder. After a few moments, we’re presented with an unimpressed Heath, watching the man sleep the entire journey away.
“This is what happens when you fly in Coach.” He states with a roll of the eyes.
He points the camera at the window and off in the distance we can see the skyline of Chicago. We’re turned back to Heath, who is unwrapping a lollipop with his teeth. He rips the foil off and spits it on the ground before putting the stick of pure sugar and diabetes into his mouth. He nods his head a couple times, approving the flavour.
“Cherry. Not bad.
Anyway, I didn’t make any entries yesterday, was too busy. I almost cracked, actually...a sexy latina chick offered to buy me a few drinks if I went to bed with her crippled friend that was confined to a body brace. I declined the booze, still banged the crippled chick though. I know what you’re thinking, ‘why Heath, why?’ and well, the answer to that is...I needed something to get my mind off shit. Besides, it wasn’t that bad of an experience. The chick was really cool, let me steal a couple comics from her collection to give to Ryan. Plus, she really knew how to use her lips. I actually remember her name too, which isn’t something I’d usually be able to do under the influence.
She kinda made me realize that lounging around and doing nothing won’t help me get through this so I decided before heading off to Chicago Ridge, I’m gonna stop in Urbana to partake in a skydive. Haven’t done that in a good five years, so I’m looking forward to it. I’m actually gonna buy a GoPro, so that all of you can be there to witness what happens.”
Out of nowhere, the unconscious man raises his hand which comes into contact with Heath’s face. Heath clenches his eyes shut before taking the man’s wrist and twisting it in a violent manner, the man wakes up with a yelp, Heath points the camera at his face, his eyes are as wide as someone who’s just seen a ghost.
“Okay, listen here you fat fuck.” Heath snaps, his grip tightening. “You’re gonna stay awake for the remainder of this trip and if I catch you drifting off for even a second, I’ll take this arm of yours and shove it so far up your fucking ass that you’ll be too scared to shit for the next year and a fucking half. You got that?”
The man slowly nods, quivering in his seat. “Y-y-yes sir.”
“Good.” Heath smiles, taking the lollipop from his mouth and holding it out in front of the guy’s face. “Now, eat this.”
“B-b-but...it has your spit on it…”
Heath gives him a stern look and within a matter of seconds, he leans his neck forward before getting ready to take hold of the lollipop in between his teeth. When it’s a mere inch away, Heath snatches it back, nostrils flaring.
“You trying to eat my lollipop, bitch?!”
The look of confused fear on the guy’s face could either be considered amusing, or tragic. There is no in between. He has no idea what to say and it’s pretty clear that Heath’s just playing games with him. Heath releases his grasp but the man won’t stop glaring at him with terror radiating from his eyes.
“Don’t look at me.” Heath orders, the man instantly changing position and darting his attention to the seat in front of him. Heath looks at the camera with a smirk. “Fucking chump.”
He fumbles around before the scene flashes to black.
---
Day Six
We can’t see Heath, but we can see several other people staring out the windows of a plane much smaller than the last. We hear them talking amongst themselves, everyone seems to be pretty ecstatic for what’s about to take place.
“So, any of you done this sorta thing before?” We hear Heath’s voice say, the camera tilting and indicating that it’s strapped to his head.
He gets a good response, just about everyone says they’ve done it a couple times before in the past. Apart from one middle-aged woman, who looks absolutely horrified.
“I’ve never done anything like this before. My son brought me passes for my birthday, I’m having a mini panic attack. What happens if the parachute doesn’t pull?! What happens if I pass out mid-jump?! What happens if...if...if…”
“Woah, chillax, lady. You’ve got an instructor with you. There’s only about a 10% chance any of that’s even gonna happen.”
“10%?! TEN PERCENT?![/b]”
The instructor strapped to the woman has a bit of a giggle and gives Heath a thumbs up. Apparently riling the jumpers up like this is a common activity.
“We ready yet, Stu?” We hear the instructor assumingly strapped to Heath call out.
“Yeah, pal.” The pilot’s voice comes over the intercom.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, who’s up first?”
“I think soccer mum should go.” Heath pipes up, to everyone else's delight.
“No! No! No! Let someone else go first!” The lady cries, nobody really paying attention as the instructor guides her to the open door. “You can’t...you can’t do this!”
“You ready?” Her instructor asks politely, checking on her.
“No! Please don’t! I beg you!”
We see Heath’s arm reach out and push the back of the woman’s instructor, causing them both to go spiralling outside. We can hear her screams of pure terror as Heath pops his head out the door to get a look.
“Happy Birthday Gertrude!”
“Your turn now, Heath?” His instructor asks.
“Fuck yeah! Let’s do this shit! Can we do a somersault?”
“Sure, why not. Let’s do a goddamn somersault.”
We crouch with Heath and his instructor at the door, before launching into the air, nothing visible apart from a couple of clouds and the almost overbearing colour of sky blue. Within a moment, all that changes and they direct themselves to be staring straight down before doing a full 360 spin. We can hear Heath’s shouts as the adrenaline pumps throughout his body, he extends a hand in front of the GoPro and pulls a thumbs up. We continue to come closer and closer with the ground, anyone with vertigo probably would’ve passed out by this point. Suddenly, we hear the parachute blast out from behind the instructor like a shotgun before the sound of strong winds glide past us.
A ringtone version of “Little Pills’ by Devilskin starts to play, the instructor seems quite bewildered by this.
“The hell? What’s that sound?” He asks rhetorically, not expecting Heath to know the answer.
“That’d be my cellphone.”
“What?! You’re not supposed to bring your phone on the jump!”
“You aren’t? My bad. Ah well. Too late now.”
Once the tone comes to its climax, we’re slowly descended towards the ground before landing safely in an open field where spectators are already waiting. A man comes up to the camera and unstraps Heath from the instructor. Almost immediately, Heath’s phone screen comes into view as he climbs to his feet. He turns the phone on and within a split second, the words “One missed call” come up.
“So, did you have fun?” The instructor asks Heath with a tap on the back, his face coming into view for the first time as Heath spins around.
He’s pretty lanky, blonde haired, has a little pimple on his chin. It actually kind of looks like he’s a recent high school graduate.
“Yeah, it was cool, cheers for that.” Heath says with a nod before his phone starts going off again. “I’ve gotta take this, might be my son.”
He turns again and begins walking towards the skydive headquarters, presumably to give the attire back. He raises the phone to his ear and seeing as it’s so close to the GoPro, we’re able to hear the connection from both ends.
“Hello?”
“Hi there, Mr. Williams, this is Ms. Sangue’s assistant’s assistant’s assistant!” A bubbly, cheerful voice answers.
“There’s three assistants?”
“Four, actually. I have one of my own, too.”
“I see...all of you chicks?” He asks slyly, clearly with a hidden agenda.
“No, the person I work for is a man.”
“Well, there goes that idea out the window. Anyway, what can I do for you?”
“Um, well, listen, Ms. Sangue knows that you’re injured, okay? However...she’s booked you a match for the upcoming Breakthrough. Main Event, too.”
Heath goes quiet for a moment, “Yeah? Against who?”
“Casanova English, sir.”
Along with Heath we peer off into the distance, we can almost sense the smile spreading across his face like peanut butter over a slice of bread. He looks down at his arm and pinches his bicep, before letting out a slight chuckle.
“Nope, not dreamin’.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Nothing. Tell Sangue I’ll be there and that I’ll be ready for a good ol’ fashioned tussle.”
“Great! You have a good day, Mr. Williams, train hard!”
The call ends and Heath puts his phone away before unbuckling his helmet and holding it out in front of him. There’s no mistake about it, he’s over the moon, this is the happiest he’s been since that moment he won the I4NI Championship, right before Tyron turned his back on him.
“As fun as that skydive was, it didn’t give me that feeling I was looking for...but now, hearing this...I’ve got my distraction from booze, my distraction from narcotics...Casanova English, the next seven days of my time will be specially devoted to building up the ability I need in order to take your sorry ass down. Clearly, I’m not one hundred percent now but by the time we’re standing centre ring, staring at eachother, dead in the eyes, I’ll be physically rejuvenated and when that final bell rings, I will be the one walking out victorious.”
He turns the GoPro off and once again, we’re met with a black screen.
---
Day Eight
Heath puts the camera down on a shelf and sets it up so it’s pointing straight at a blue mat, however we’ve still got a view of its surroundings, from what we can see there’s an abundance of different gym equipment around the room, as well as people using it. There’s a guy in the back going all out on the rowing machine, sweat dripping off of him like he’s a melting popsicle.
“Keep it up, Chuck!” Heath encouragingly calls out to him before going over and kneeling on the mat. He looks up at the camera. “So, I was going to use the GoPro yesterday while I went for a run around Chicago but I completely forgot about grabbing it on my way out so I made sure to bring the camera along today. As you can clearly see, I’m at the gym. Now, my body’s still not the best, the run yesterday took a lot out of me so I figured I need to gain my strength back. I’m gonna start with some basic cardio routines. First, push-ups. Let’s see how many I can do.”
He starts off rather impressively, it’s apparent that his yesterday’s run has pushed up his stamina. After twenty-five, it looks as if his arms are beginning to strain but that doesn’t stop him from pushing on. He manages to get to forty-two before flopping against the floor.
“Fuck…” he mutters as he rolls over, having trouble with his breathing. “I need to keep going. I only have five more days.”
He turns back to his front and puts two flat palms against the mat before starting again, right back at the number one. We can see the wear and tear in his eyes as he pushes himself to get to his second set of ten for this round. This carries on until he hits forty-three, however, the very second he gets it, he falls once again. We see his jaw clench, his eyes clench, he’s on the verge of beating himself up.
“Quit being so weak…quit being so fucking weak...At this rate, you’ll never beat English…never...” He stares back up at the camera for a few moments before getting up and hobbling over on spaghetti legs. “I’ll be back in two days to showcase how much I’ve improved. Until then.”
He turns it off, leaving us with the cliffhanger of if he’ll be able to find his way out of this rut or not.
---
Day Ten
It doesn’t appear as if the position of the camera has changed at all, we see Heath walking away from it before kneeling back down on the mat, looking up at us with a smug expression. He firmly places his hands down and begins, this time he’s fully pumping it out, making it to twenty push-ups in a flash. Within moments he’s at thirty, then forty, then fifty! He’s not done there either, he powers all the way through to one hundred before stopping. It doesn’t look like he’s even broken a sweat.
“I could keep going but that’d just be showing off. Next up, a hundred jumping jacks.” He announces as he stands.
The same thing occurs as the push-ups, he’s clearly forced his body to be accustomed to all this exercise, one could only wonder about the sort of punishment he’s put himself through these past couple days. He stops at his mark of a hundred jumping jacks, slight perspiration visible on his forehead.
“I think you guys get the picture. Now, it’s time to brush up on my in-ring ability.” He makes way over to the camera and picks up his phone that must’ve been sitting beside it. He dials in a number before putting it to his ear. A few moments go by before there’s an answer. “Hey, Dusko. Long time no chat...hey, you don’t happen to be anywhere near Chicago, do you?
Really?! Bloomington?!
Well, I was wondering if you could come out these ways and help me train.
Yeah, I know I’m injured but I’m a lot better now. Besides, I’ve got a big match this coming Breakthrough.
Who against? Uhh...well, English.”
“CASANOVA ENGLASH?!” We hear an estranged accent scream through the phone, those two words being all we can make out.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine though, you know, if you come help me train.
Awesome, you’ll do it? Great! I’ll see you tomorrow man.” His tone begins to drop, he’s feeling uncomfortable with something. “Uh...sure…
What?! You want me to say it?!
For crying out loud. Fine.
I love you too, Dusko.”
He hangs up, shaking his head. “That guy’s way too affectionate...anyway, stay tuned for tomorrow where Dusko Varesanovic and I step into the ring and go toe to toe for the first time ever! Ka Kite everybody!”
---
Day Eleven
We rotate around a room, we’re obviously at some kind of performance centre as there’s a wrestling ring sitting contently in the middle. The camera becomes fixated on the set of double doors at the front of the building.
“Any moment now…” we hear Heath say as we zoom in.
The doors are shoved open and in walks a clearly foreign man dressed in nothing but a pair of wrestling boots and technicolour tights, he has his arms extended like he’s coming in for a hug. He approaches us and Heath with a sincere grin.
“Bring it in my brudda from anudda mudda!” He wraps himself around Heath and squeezes him, the camera going black as his body covers the lens. “It is good to see jou, Heaf! It has been so long!”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Dusko told jou not to be such a stranger! But jou decide to be stranger anyway!”
“Been busy, sorry dude. Should we get started?”
Dusko takes a few steps back and looks over towards the doors, “Not yet, Dusko has surprise for jou!”
They open again and within a moment, we can see two large breasts come around the corner, however, whoever’s the foundation of these breasts stops for a second.
“Wow, now that’s a chest...” Heath mutters, clearly awestruck.
Dusko snickers, right before the owner of the breasts comes around the corner, it’s a man...with a purse. Not an obese man though, so his breasts are definitely not natural. He has a slightly skinny physique as becomes more obvious when he struts forward, making way over to Heath and Dusko.
“What’s the matter, Heathy? You look as if you’ve never seen a guy with tits before!” He says with an extremely flamboyant voice.
“Well...I haven’t…”
The man comes closer and rests his hands on Heath’s shoulders. “I’ve missed you, Heathy, you beautiful man.”
“Uhh, yeah, likewise, Manny.”
Heath moves the camera back so that Dusko and this ‘Manny’ are in full view. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Dusko Varesanovic and Remanuel Urebay. The three of us were a team back in the World Turmoil Federation, they called us Awesome 24/7. We were certainly an oddly grouped bunch but that’s what made it work so well.”
“Not to mention Heathy and I were in love!” Manny squeals.
Heath points the lens at his own face, shaking his head. “No we weren’t.” We go back to Manny. “Why are you here, anyway?”
“Dusko told me about your little situation and I decided I wanted to help out! With my training and with Dusko as your sparring partner, you’ll be in tip top shape in no time!”
“No way, you’re not training me. I know exactly what your training consists of and I ain’t doing any of that shit.”
“Oh come on Heaf!” Dusko says with a pat on the back. “Jou know it works!”
“I am not, playing baseball with dildos, I repeat, I am not playing baseball with fucking dildos.”
Manny giggles, putting a hand over his mouth. “Oh Heathy, I cater my way of training to whoever the trainee is. All that dildo stuff back in FBW was specially designed for Dusko because of the fool he is. I know that the only way to train you, is to let you fight. You know, with some words of encouragement by mwah, of course.”
“So...no dildos then?”
“No dildos. Pinky swear.” Manny puts his hand out, little finger extended.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Okay, let’s get this show on the road. Heathy, Dusko, go get in the ring.”
Heath hands Manny the camera before going over to the ring and rolling in underneath the bottom rope. Dusko follows, except he climbs the steps beside the corner and jumps over the top. Heath stands and the two shake hands before parting ways and taking a few steps back from each other.
“This match is scheduled for one fall,” Manny announces, “First, to your left, is the Kalberkaderkastan native himself, Dusko Varesanovic! And to your right is VoW I4NI Champion, Heath Williams! Commence!”
Dusko wastes no time, dropping Heath with a clothesline before nailing him with several standing elbow drops. Heath rolls over to his feet and backs into the corner, spine touching the turnbuckle. It’s clear that he’s still not one hundred percent, despite the intense work out routine he’s put himself through the last few days.
Suddenly, Dusko comes in at full force, plummeting against his slow starting opponent. Heath goes to topple over but Dusko catches him, before taking hold of Heath’s downstairs with firm grip.
“Oh no! Here it is, Dusko’s patented Testicular Claw!” Manny commentates with the utmost enthusiasm in his voice.
We can hear the pain in Heath’s strained cries before Dusko decides to put him out of his misery, taking his hand away from Heath’s crotch and bringing his arm up, wrapping it around Heath’s neck and performing a snapmare-driver. He steps back, getting his arm at the ready. After a few moments, Heath shows some life and struggles back to his feet however, it probably would’ve been in his best interest to stay down as Dusko comes into contact with his face, using a spinning forearm.
“And the Lothario! That’s Dusko’s finishing maneuver!”
Heath falls flat against his back and Dusko goes to make the cover. Manny quickly runs over, using his free hand to reach under the bottom rope and slap against the canvas.
“One! Two! Three! Here is your winner, Dusko Varesanovic!”
“I won!” Dusko gets up before jumping around cheerfully.
Manny points the camera at Heath, who opens his eyes with a sigh. “I don’t get it. You haven’t wrestled in years...how is it you were able to reduce me to nothing?”
“Dusko practices his old moveset every day. It is good work out.”
Heath tilts his head over to Manny, “What happened to the encouragement?”
“That match was a test. You failed, terribly. To think that Heathy boy Williams has been humiliated like this. It’s a shame, it appears what Tyron’s done has forced you to lose that same old confidence you once had. Either that, or it’s because you don’t have enough gas in the tank.”
“By gas, you mean alcohol and drugs, right?”
“The petrol of Heath Williams, yes.”
Heath sighs again, looking up at the ceiling. “Shut the camera off.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want my fans to see me this way. I’ve built up this reputation over the years as a guy with steel skin, blood of a warrior and the survival instinct of a wolf. The next time they see me, I want to be like that again. Nothing less. So please, Manny...turn the camera off.”
“Okay, Heathy. Turning it off.”
After the depressing scene of a man that feels he’s lost it all, we’re left to wonder what will happen next.
---
Day Thirteen
When the picture comes back, we’re presented with Manny hushing towards the lens, he turns us around so that we can see what’s going on in the ring. Heath’s doing much better in this fight and looks as if he may just win this one.
“They’ve been going at it like this for the last hour, neither wants to give up. Heathy because he’s hell bent on regaining who he is and Dusko, well, I think his reason is because he just wants Heathy’s mojo to get flowing again.”
Within a split second, Dusko turns the tides and pulls Heath into a roll-up. Manny scurries over to make the count.
“One! Two! Three! Dusko wins again!”
Immediately, Heath bolts up, the frustration setting in. He shoves Dusko into the corner before going in the opposite direction and taking it out on the turnbuckle, several punches, one after the other.
“Fuck this shit! Twenty-Four rounds and I still haven’t won! I’m fucking done with wrestling. Screw Bickerton, screw English, screw VoW. I’m out.” He climbs out of the ring and starts walking towards the doors.
“Where are jou going?!” Dusko calls out.
“To go get a fucking drink.”
Along with Manny, we chase after him. “No! You can’t give up now!”
“Give me one good fucking reason.”
“I didn’t want to have to show you this...but...you’ve left me no choice.”
Heath stops, half turning his head. Manny pulls out his smart phone and begins to play a video, it’s of Tyron Bickerton, interviewing some guy named Stanley Hayes. We quickly find out that Hayes is a ruined businessman, his hostel and bourbon brewing company apparently destroyed by The Hardcore Hero himself. Manny turns off the footage once Tyron’s finished talking about Heath. We wait for him to speak but he says nothing for what seems like a lifetime. He just stands there, staring into nothing.
“Heath?” Manny asks, trying to get his attention.
“Bullshit. That was all bullshit. None of that happened. Not in that way. How dare those bastards stretch the truth...he’s trying to turn everyone against me…”
He turns back to face us, the look in his eyes has shifted to collect a menacing nature. With staunch shoulders, he trudges over to the ring and gets back in, Manny follows with the camera. He punches Dusko square in the jaw, initiating another fight. Dusko attempts a punch of his own but it’s in vain, Heath catches it, tossing it aside before hitting another. He uses his shin to sweep away at Dusko’s feet, who slams against the canvas. Heath runs towards the ropes and bounces off of them, connecting Dusko with a spear the second he gets back up.
“Woah! See! I knew you had it in you Heathy!”
Heath doesn’t respond, instead he grabs Dusko by the forearms and drags him over to the corner, kicking him a few times in the cheek to assure he stays down. He sits him up against the bottom turnbuckle and ascends the post on the other side. He leaps off with a coast to coast, kangaroo legs catapulting right into Dusko’s face.
“Heaven to Hell! Heaven to Hell! Heathy could win it here, folks!”
However, instead of choosing the path of victory he yanks Dusko up to his feet and plants him with Frozen Over. He still isn’t finished though as he picks Dusko up, shoulders to shoulders, his arms wrapped around Dusko’s legs, pulling them down.
“No! Heathy! That’s enough! Put him down, win the match!”
“Shut the fuck up Urebay!”
The Kinniku Buster hits, Dusko’s completely unconscious. Yet...Heath carries on...he’s lost his mind, if not permanently then definitely temporarily. He rolls out of the ring, pulling Dusko along with him before dumping his foreign friend on the floor. He goes over to a table beside the wall on the far side of the room and dusts everything off of its surface before picking it up and dragging it over so that it’s about a metre away from the ring. After picking up Dusko, he places him on top of the table before going off to grab a nearby chair. He rolls back into the ring and sets the chair up so it’s nice and close to the corner. He takes a couple steps back before leaping up onto the chair then making the jump over to the turnbuckle and finally, flying off with a legdrop that causes the table to explode into many little bits and pieces.
“NO! HEATH!” Manny runs over, crying as he kneels down beside Dusko, checking his wounds.
“Crying’s for babies.” Heath says coldly before ripping the camera out of Manny’s hands and staring into it.
“I don’t think it sunk in until I heard the audio to that video...I don’t think I even wanted to let it sink in...our bond has been completely severed. Those four championship reigns as partners...gone...that brotherhood we had growing up...gone...the promise we made as kids...gone…” His face screws up, he no longer cares. “Fine. Have it your way. You’ve only been weighing me down anyway and no, that’s not a fucking play at your size, I’m dead serious. Do you know how many opportunities I’ve gone without because of you? Let’s just say, it’s a fucking lot. I can’t wait to see your face when I pass this exam...and better yet, I can’t wait to see your face when I destroy you at Fate of the Gods...but until then, I’ve got stepping stones to take care of…
Which brings me to my opponent at Breakthrough tonight, yes, the man himself, World Visionary Champion, Casanova English!” He says with extreme sarcasm before starting to pace backwards and forwards.
“What a Main Event this should be..huh? I4NI Champion duking it out with Mr. World Vish’ himself...Now, it’s no secret that the last two occasions we’ve been in the ring together haven’t exactly worked out in my favour...but this time’s different...I know it, English knows it, everyone knows it.
You see, this time...neither of us have a team in our corner…this time we’re going one on one, for the first time ever. That means, no distractions and no relying on others for back-up...it means, independence, two warriors battling it out, trying to put one's own skill over the other’s…it means that I finally achieve the goal I made for myself the day I walked into this company…
Defeating, Casanova English.
Every time I walk into a new federation, I choose the one guy that stands out amongst the rest, the guy that I know is either of legendary status or at least well on his way, the guy that is considered to be the best in the business. That was no different for VoW. The minute I saw him, my eyes were set, deadlocked. At the time, Valquist was the World Champ but English managed to outshine even that of the golden world title plate…
To the average human eye, English is a douchebag with a cigarette hanging out his mouth, an asshole with a jacket flung over his shoulder, a son of a bitch with a bunch of lost children trailing after him. However, it takes somebody with abilities like mine to see the truth, to see that he truly is an enigma…
He and I, as different as we are...we have the same eyes. Eyes that have seen similar pain, eyes that want similar things but from different aspects, eyes that are searching for our destinies. I hear English’s words now, “destiny? I’ve found my destiny! I’m the World Visionary Champion!”...however, deep down he knows that this is only the tip of the iceberg, when another opportunity perhaps even greater comes along, he will lie, cheat and con his way until it’s been achieved.
See, this is where our differences come into play. If I were to be given the same opportunity, I would fight, tear my heart out and pour my entire soul into it. Cutting corners is too easy, there’s no sense of challenge and although the reward is there, there’s no real sense of accomplishment.
What I’m trying to say is, though we’re both warriors in our own right, the tactics in warfare we each have are from two completely different sides of the spectrum and I believe that all these things I have stated are the reasons as to why I chose him from the get go. So different, yet so alike.
However...I’m actually starting to wish this match was on a different date…
Why? You might ask? Because funnily enough...a sober Heath with a grudge isn’t one with a clear head...a sober Heath with a grudge is something to be afraid of...something you’d want to hide from...usually I like my opponent to have the same hard fought experience as I...however, something tells me...it’s not going to be like that this time…
It’s time this animal is taken off the leash it’s been on for the last fortnight...the leash of sobriety...but before that can be done, I must tear a hole straight through The Modern Day Messiah and straight through this test...at the end of the night, there’ll be a mug of the finest lager waiting for me, sitting right next to a joint of the skunkiest strains of weed...and knowing that will be my fuel.”
He points the camera towards Manny, who is helping Dusko to his feet with an arm wrapped around his neck. Manny doesn’t take his eyes off Heath the entire time he walks past, towards the door.
“Remanuel. I hope that the next time we meet, will be under different circumstances.”
More tears come to Manny’s eyes, “Me too, Heathy...me too…”
The scene closes and for the final time, we’re left in complete darkness.
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Fin.
