Post by - The Hardcore Hero on Jun 9, 2016 20:20:46 GMT -6
INT. HERMANN, MISSOURI - RYAN AND KAREN’S HOUSE - JUNE 10TH - NIGHT
The scent of incinerating ink and paper wafts up towards my nose, each nostril inhaling the overbearing stench without a care in the world. I watch the once cherished photos of myself and my former best friend burn to a crinkled crisp with two clenched fists and a single tear, slowly rolling down my right cheek. So many years of friendship, thrown away in a single heartbeat. Though we had our issues in the past, they had never been like this. Never as serious as this. Never before had my brother tried to officially end my career. The same career, he had helped me build.
Throughout this time of hiding behind a tough facade and pretending like none of it matters, in reality, I’ve never felt so hurt. Everyday I wake up with an ache in my heart and every night I go to sleep with one. It isn’t a physical ache, it’s one of pure, raw, emotion, one that occurs every time I think about him and the times we’ve shared. I was never convinced that I was going to lead a happy life, one where I’d own a home or have a family but I was always convinced that I’d at least have Tyron there with me, where we’d watch out for one another like the brothers we had grown up as.
But since it happened, since shit went all the way south, I’ve had the time to think. I’ve come to understand that no matter how strong two people’s bond can be, said bond is never safe from being broken. It can be torn in half just like that, whether it be from words, actions or even some sort of third party. However, I look back and think about all those that’ve been cut from my life and never, not once did I ever expect that Tyron would be added to that list. Then again, I’m not the one putting him on my list am I? He’s the one putting me on his and thus, now the only thing that can be done, is to say goodbye to our memories linked through brotherhood.
There’s no point trying to reason with him, especially not now after letting things come this far. I feel like my ego has gotten the best of me, perhaps there was another way to go about this...but with this new attitude of his towards everything, would he even listen to words? Or would they enter one ear and float right out the other just as quickly? I think that’s why I responded the way I did, because deep down I know the only way to settle this is for blood to be spilt and for the both us to put our pride on the line in a match that neither will forget.
I hear a series of footsteps behind me, the sound of creaking floorboards flowing into each ear. The source of the steps must possess a pair of seriously small feet because if not for the floorboards, they would’ve approached me completely undetected. They get closer, until I feel a child’s hand take hold of my forearm. I half turn my head, seeing Ryan peering up at me with heavy bags under his eyes. He turns his attention to the vast amounts of ash spread across the concrete foundation of the fireplace with a slight frown.
“What are you doing up so late, dad?” He asks with a strong sense of exhaustion in his voice.
“Couldn’t sleep. Go back to bed son, we’ve got an early plane to catch.”
“Are you missing Uncle Tyron?”
“Don’t call him that.” I half snap, sending him aback. Feeling bad, I put my arm around him and join in at staring into the leftover embers of the dying flames before us. “He’s not your uncle and he’s no longer my brother. He made his choice.”
Ryan says nothing and doesn’t move a muscle, that is until I feel his head fall against my side with a thump. I look over, noticing that his eyes are glued shut just as he begins a powerful symphony of snores. With a light smile, I pick him up off his feet and throw him over my shoulder, exiting the room and taking him back to his bed where I lay him down before flipping the covers over his body. Immediately, he rolls over onto his side and kicks a leg out from underneath with a stretch of the arms to match. I rest a hand on his head, brushing his thick black hair away from his eyes.
“I love you, my son. I know that with you by my side, I can make it through this.”
---
INT. ST. PAUL, MISSOURI - MISSY’S HOTEL - JUNE 11TH - DAY
I inhale a deep breath as my knuckles come into near contact with the door of Missy’s hotel room, I just know that the minute she opens up, spells a certain lecture for me. I can hear her voice in my head already, ‘Forfeit this match right now! You’re still unfit to compete!’ or, ‘Call Tyron! Work things out!’. That’s only the beginning too, I can’t even imagine what she’s going to say when she finds out I’m going to train Ryan how to wrestle.
“You alright, dad?” Ryan asks from my left, clearly noticing my hesitation.
“Yeah, I’m good...just, scared.”
“I understand. She scares me, too.”
“Tell me about it. She has that effect on people.”
“She’s pretty hot, though.”
I look at Ryan with an eyebrow raised, “You’re kidding, right? Bitch looks like a gender confused Chewbacca.”
“A hot gender confused Chewbacca.”
Dumbfounded by this, I turn back to the door, ready to finally take that leap of faith and begin a-knocking but it seems I’ve been beaten to it, as I hear a chain slide off its rail from the other side to indicate that the room is being unlocked. It opens up a crack and Missy’s head peers out from inside, at first glance she seems curious as to who’s behind the door but her expression immediately drops when she sees that it’s just me.
“Thought I heard voices. I was expecting you several hours ago.”
“Yeah...uhh...we stopped for nacho’s.”
“It doesn’t take three hours to eat nacho’s, Heath.”
“Fine, you got me, we went to buy you a chocolate bar too.”
She perks up, looking at me before turning her attention to Ryan, trying to locate the whereabouts of this so-called chocolate. “Well, where is it then?”
“Umm…” I begin to sweat, I had eaten it. The whole thing. In two glorious bites. Quick, Heath, make something up… “Uh, Ryan ate it. The whole thing. In two glorious bites.”
“Hey, no I didn-” Ryan tries to defend himself but I cut him off with a nudge, signalling that he just go with it.
Missy sighs, shaking her head before pushing the door further open and escorting us inside. To my surprise, she isn’t wearing her usual businesswoman suit but instead one of those white hotel robes with her hair tied up in a casual bun. I hear the sound of the door shut behind us Ryan closes it, just as Missy flops against the sofa. I take a seat opposite her on a recliner as Ryan sits beside her. He looks pretty pleased with himself, being right next to the ‘hot gender confused Chewbacca’.
“What a mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time.” She tells me, with an unimpressed shake of the head. “Just won the I4NI Championship, almost got your career thrown on a silver platter, only just got yourself medically cleared and you’re already going into a bout that could leave you with every single bone in your body shattered.”
My body tingles with fear and anxiety, I’m just waiting for her tone to pick up and for something to be hurled at me, or to be slapped with an iron palm. My eyes float all the way to the ground, like a child being told off by their mother. However, when I muster enough courage to look back up, I see a huge smile spread across her face. She lifts her legs up and rests them on the coffee table.
“Good boy.”
Without any thought of action, my face screws up. “Huh? You’re not, pissed off?”
“Why would I be?” She laughs, “Do you understand how much money this is making me? This is one of the most talked about matches of the whole event! I’ll admit, at first I wanted the two of you to sort things out so that we could set up a rematch for The Requiem at those Twin City Titles...but the moment I saw that big fat cheque in Sky’s hand, being passed over to me, I stopped giving two shits.”
“But, you realize once Fate of the Gods is said and done with, all that cash goes away, right?”
“Partially. I still get enough from you being I4NI Champion.”
“Theoretically speaking, what if Tyron wins, what about then?”
“Then I’ll still be getting a cut. He’s still technically my client too, after all. Despite the lack of contact.”
I smirk, my jaw half clenching, eyes directed straight at Missy. “I thought you had changed. For a while there, I felt like you actually cared about us. But hey, I guess as long as you have a full bank account then that’s all that truly matters, huh Missy?”
She leans forward with a cold stare. “Why should I care about two people that don’t give a shit about me? Throughout all this senseless bickering, you’ve forgotten all about who helped you rise the ranks as a tag team, who helped you both to become household VoW names. You’ve made it clear that whatever bond we have, is strictly business.”
“You’re wrong. You’re our sister. We’re both grateful for everything you’ve done. If you don’t want to believe me, then fine. My bond with Tyron’s already been cut, I have no problem cutting another.”
“Good. Now leave. I’ll contact you if there’s anything business related that needs to be spoken about.”
With a grunt in response, I make a gesture to Ryan that we leave before standing and following him back to the door. He opens it and steps out but just as I’m about to do the same, Missy calls out.
“Heath, wait.”
I freeze, turning my head and looking over my shoulder.
“Be careful out there...please.” The look of sheer innocence in her eyes tell me that she really does care and that this was just one of our petty arguments added to a list with the many we’ve already had.
“Sorry but, me and that word just don’t mix-up too well so I can’t promise that. I can however promise that I’ll be leaving Fate of the Gods in one piece and as the reigning I4NI Champion. Take care, Missy.” I give her a tender smile and exit the room, journeying down the hallway with Ryan.
The thing is with Missy is that she can’t help but put on the miss boss woman act, she’s a natural born leader to say the least. Just like me, she has a hard time expressing herself without showing off that hard, cold exterior but deep down she’s someone else, she has a heart full of loving emotion that she just doesn’t know how to let flow. However, no matter how many arguments we have, no matter how many times we can’t see eye to eye I just know that Missy will always be around and honestly, I don’t know what I’d do if she wasn’t. I should make more of an effort with her, speak to her when things are playing on my mind or when I have plans that may affect the future.
Then again, I think some things would be better off keeping from her until she finds out for herself…
“Hey dad, why didn’t you tell Missy that you’re training me?” Ryan pipes up, as we make way into the elevator.
I say nothing as he continues to stare at me, searching for an answer within my facial expressions but I don’t make it easy for him and not even an eyelash is bat as I choose the ground floor from our list of options.
---
INT. WRESTLING PERFORMANCE CENTRE - JUNE 13TH - AFTERNOON
“I look ridiculous!” Ryan cries from behind the door of the changing room.
I roll my eyes, “My god you sound like your mother. It’s not about what you look like, it’s about learning the ropes. You’ll get to choose your attire when you’ve risen in the ranks.”
After another whimper, the door slowly creaks open and Ryan appears in a silly red leotard with matching headgear. I bite my tongue, struggling to hold in my laughter.
“Hey now, don’t forget the mouth guard.” I remind him.
Stiffening his upper lip, he groans and puts the mouthguard in. “Better?” He asks in a muffled tone.
“You betcha.” I cock my head. “Come on, Dusko will be here soon.”
He follows me over to the training ring and we both hop in. I lean up against the turnbuckle as he watches me, awaiting my instructions.
“Okay, so first I wanna test out your speed and endurance. Run the ropes until I tell you to stop.”
He spits the mouthguard into his right palm and screws up his face, “What do you mean?”
“Seriously? You don’t know what running the ropes is?” I rub my hand over my face, Ryan isn’t like what I was at his age, by the time I was twelve I could already pull off some of the most advance wrestling maneuvers. “Basically, I want you to run from rope to rope, bouncing off of each one.”
Putting the mouthguard back in, he nods and immediately gets into it. He bounces off the set of ropes nearest me and sprints over to the opposite side, doing the same and repeating the process a further five times. After the sixth, he starts to become rather sluggish, panting as he desperately tries to impress me. He becomes increasingly slow centre ring and even drops to one knee.
“I didn’t say stop.”
He glances up at me and pushes himself back to his feet, continuing the run. He manages to press on for another three sets but collapses against the ropes on the far side of the ring immediately after, face as red as his leotard.
“Once again, I didn’t say stop.”
Frustratingly, he turns with a clenched jaw. “Screw you! Can’t you see that I’m tired?!”
“Yeah, which is exactly why you shouldn’t be stopping. If you stop to take a breather, you’re only going to dwell on the fact that you’re tired, making the feeling intensify. If you keep going, you’ll eventually find your runner's high. Remember, pain’s just weakness leaving the body my son.”
My message appears to sink in, as he positions himself to get back into it. However, the doors fly open and Dusko bursts in, sporting a suit of divine class. He looks like he should be on the red carpet, not in a performance centre. He struts over to the ring and rolls in underneath the bottom rope before standing and greeting me with a hug.
“Heaf! Oh how good it is to see jou!”
“Even after what went down a few weeks ago?”
“Of course! Dusko would never hold a grudge against his pal, Heaf!”
“Well, that’s good to know, I guess...say, where’s the kid?”
Once again taking out the mouthguard, Ryan butts in. “Kid? Huh?”
Dusko’s attention turns to Ryan and his mouth forms the perfect ‘o’ shape. He rushes up to him and bends down. “Wow! Jou have grown so much since Uncle Dusko last see jou!” He gives him a pat on the head, scruffing his hair underneath the helmet.
“Yeah, I have.” Ryan answers before looking back up at me. “What’s this talk about a kid? Am I getting a sparring partner or something?”
To answer his question, a buffed out, completely ripped teenager with broad shoulders steps into the room wearing a leotard that almost matches Ryan’s, only it’s blue and his physique does a better job at filling it out. Ryan’s jaw drops, he’s in terrified awe.
“Ryan, meet Lucario Rosheen. The prodigal son of Kalberkaderkastanian wrestling. He’s come a long way to help train you.” I explain, answering any other questions he might have in mind.
“Dey say he will surpass Dusko someday.” Dusko chimes in with a chuckle and a snort. “But what do dey know?”
Lucario climbs into the ring and places himself in front of Ryan, the difference in size is incredible. It’s like pitting King Kong up against Michael Cera. It’s difficult to believe that they’re only three years apart in age. Lucario looks Ryan dead in the eyes before glaring him up and down, clearly not impressed by his scrawny stature.
“Dis is joke, right?” He asks, turning to Dusko. “Harhar, jou are so funny Master Varesanovic. Where is Lucario’s real opponent?”
“This ain’t no joke, kid.” I say, walking over. “Lucario, meet Ryan, my son.”
Lucario looks at me, Ryan, then me again, his lips forming a smirk. “Dis is son of great Heaf Willums? Jou cannot expect Lucario to believe dat.”
“Believe dat, Lucario. Dis is da troof.” Dusko assures him.
He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders, finally accepting it as fact. He steps back into his corner and begins a pre-match stretch. Ryan scurries over to me, eyes telling me just how frightened he is.
“You can’t expect me to fight him! I mean, look at him! He’s like three times my size! You haven’t even taught me any wrestling moves!”
“You’ve watched my matches, haven’t you?”
“Well...yeah…”
“Then you should know exactly what to do.”
I watch a little more confidence pass through him as he gives me a nod. He takes his corner and I step out onto the apron, Dusko doing the same on Lucario’s side. The youngins meet in the centre and Ryan extends a shaky hand, to which Lucario basically scoffs at. He refuses to show the proper form of respect that Ryan wants, who responds by pushing the hand further towards him. Lucario smacks it out of the way, Ryan taking a moment to ponder just how strong this guy is. Even though it’s his back that’s facing me, I feel Ryan’s demeanor shift and the same hand is immediately scrunched up into a ball and shoved straight into Lucario’s cheek who takes a slight step back, absorbing the impact. Very slowly, he turns his head back towards Ryan with a look of pure disgust plastered across his face.
“Jou have weak punch. It is pathetic.”
He sends his own right uppercut straight into Ryan’s stomach, who’s spine instantly curls over as the air forces its way out of his lungs. Lucario follows up with an elbow to the back of the skull, planting Ryan against the canvas. My fatherly instincts kick in and I just about find myself getting involved and beating the living snot out of the little shit but my attention is diverted when the doors to the centre open once more. In walks a stern looking roughian of a man in his late forties, early fifties at the most. I can’t see his eyes passed the thick black lenses of his sunglasses so I can’t tell where he’s looking, until he takes a seat a mere few metres away from the ring, his gaze settling on the events transpiring inside. I see that this guy’s presence hasn’t fazed anybody else, as Lucario hits a leg drop on Ryan’s lower back, who shouts in agony.
“Jou are such a weakling Ryan! Dis is too easy for Lucario!”
“It is time to show dem jour ultimate headlock, Luca!” Dusko instructs, his mentoring coming into play.
Following orders, Lucario drops and wraps a single bicep around Ryan’s throat, pulling backwards and turning Ryan into a plum. Ryan’s fingers swipe away at Lucario’s arm but there’s no use, the grip’s too tight. From behind me, I can hear choppy audio coming from the man’s cellphone but it’s clear enough to understand that what’s playing is the latest installment to Bickerton’s “Heath Williams Tour of Self-Destruction”.
“Hey, let’s take a quick break, yeah?” I say to Dusko, who gives Lucario a nod that causes the boy wonder to stop in his tracks, letting Ryan go.
Ryan gasps for oxygen as he crawls over to me. “This guy’s too tough, dad! He nearly killed me!”
“Don’t worry son, you’ll be fine. Your last name might be Gallagher but you’re just as much of a Williams too. Don’t forget that.”
Ryan nods and I tell him that I’ll be back in a moment before turning and making way over to the man whose eyes fail to stray away from the phone. “Who are you?” I ask with the utmost macho tone mixed with a splash of curiosity.
“Oh you know, just a spectator.” He answers as he exits the video on his phone and enters some kind of game app.
“Cut the shit and fucking look at me when I’m talking to you.”
This grabs his attention as he turns the phone off and stands, finally sharing eye contact. He gestures towards the doors, “Care to step outside with me for a minute?”
Hesitantly, I peer up at the ring, Ryan watching on as Lucario and Dusko talk gameplans. I give the guy a nod and follow him passed the ring and towards the doors.
“Where are jou going, Heaf?” Dusko asks, Lucario looking over too.
“I won’t be long. You can handle things in my absence.”
Dusko nods, “Okay boys, jou will start again. From da top.”
EXT. WRESTLING PERFORMANCE CENTRE - AFTERNOON
“Quite the kid you’ve got there.” The guy tells me as he takes out a packet of cigarettes, passing me one before lighting his own.
“Yeah, Lucario isn’t mine.” I respond as he hands me a lighter.
“I’m not talking about the walking bottle of spray-tan. I’m talking about the other one.”
With a frown, I spark my cigarette and pass his lighter back to him. There’s no way he could be talking about Ryan, this is his first day in the ring, he hasn’t had enough practice for such praise. Not to mention, he was getting his ass handed to him by Lucario from the moment the spar began.
“He your son?”
“Yeah. His name’s Ryan. Good kid. Don’t really know about his in-ring ability yet.”
“Oh he’ll get there. He is the son of The Hardcore Hero, after all. Am I right?”
Taking a drag from my cigarette, I stare at him, trying to figure out his intentions and more importantly, his identity. “Who the fuck are you? Like, seriously man.”
He puts his hand out, “Me? Well I’m Mike Reinich. Some people call me Mikey Metal, or in some cases, just Metal.”
Wait a minute, I know who this guy is. Back in the day, he was apart of one of the most illustrious tag teams of the biz, Punk Metal, with his cohort Pauly Punk. They won the tag titles everywhere they went, there wasn’t a single place they didn’t. However, after time, they sort’ve just disappeared without a trace. Word had it that they disbanded and went on to do different things, separately.
I take Mike’s hand and give him a nod of respect, “It’s an honour to meet you.”
“Likewise, likewise. Not every day you get to meet a former WTF World Champion.”
We both let go and continue to become befuddled within our clouds of nicotine. “So, what brings you to St. Paul?” I ask, taking a drag. “Got a front row seat to Fate of the Gods?”
“Nosebleed, actually. I’m not too bothered though. That’s not the reason I’m here.”
“Then...what is?”
“Well, there’s two, really. Which one you wanna hear first?”
I shrug, how am I supposed to know? “Uh, either or.”
“I’m in the process of finding young people like your boy to join my circuit, it’s all about training the next big superstars of the wrestling world and getting them used to the idea of performing for live crowds, improving their skills on the mic, you know, all the fun stuff. I heard about that Lucario dude being in town, thought he might be a worthy asset. Kid’s got quite the ego though.”
“Yeah, he’s a bit of a douchebag if you ask me.” I smirk, Mike following suit.
“Wouldn’t mind taking Ryan somewhere down the line though. He’s got a lot to offer.”
“Most parents would be pleased to hear that but I’m skeptical. You only watched him fight for like ten seconds, how could that be enough to know that you’d like to take him under your wing?”
“There’s a fire burning deep down in that kid’s heart, Heath. I don’t know if you’re able to see it but I can. He’s special. He’s more like you than you think he is. Just give it some time, you’ll see what I mean.”
I nod, taking his expertise into account. I’m glad to know that a professional thinks my boy’s got what it takes but the other reason as to why he’s here creeps into thought, I wonder what it could be.
“What was reason number two for being out here?”
Mike smiles, glancing up at the sky, the sun reflecting off the lens of his glasses. “To explain to you what the curse of brotherhood is.”
Curse of brotherhood? Is he talking about the current rivalry between myself and Bickerton? I’m all ears from this point forward and I think he can tell as he carries on without my saying of anything.
“The curse of brotherhood is something that’s been lingering around the tag teams within the wrestling industry since its inception, way back when. It has many different stages, many different forms. Sometimes it’s something stupid like a fight over who gets to take the sexy piece of ass from the bar home, or who gets to take the stage first. Other times it’s a little more intense than that, it can be a spat over a singles title or just some kind of rivalry to see who the better man is but believe me when I tell you this Heath, it can also be ten times nastier than all of that.”
“How?”
He has a puff of his cigarette and looks at me before letting out a sigh and pulling up the left sleeve of his trousers, revealing a shiny metal prosthetic in his place of his leg. “This is why I quit wrestling.”
Staring down at it, I wonder if I should ask, if I should even dare to ask but I can’t help it, I need to know more. “And...how’d you get that?”
“My partner, Pauly Punk. Everything was great. Fucking great. Twelve title runs we had as a team. Twelve of ‘em. Not too long after we signed up with Chaos Every Minute, this hardcore big leagues place, the owner wanted to take a different approach to what Pauly and I were as a team. Instead of going for the duo-set belts, he wanted me challenging Buzz Thunder for the World Title and Pauly going for the mid-tier against Rangoon. This didn’t sit well with Pauly, he believed that he had worked harder than me over the years and that I didn’t deserve the opportunity I was getting. He ended up breaching his contract and going MIA about a week later. Some time went on, I hadn’t heard anything from Pauly, I took home the big one and even though I was happy my only wish was that Pauly had’ve been there with me. Month goes on, I’m set to defend the title against this upstart, some kid from the South, impressive ring talent but dumb as fucking nails. Ended up taking a hammer shot to the head and becoming completely brain dead, can you believe that?”
“You’re trailing off the point, Mike.”
He nervously smiles, “Shit. Sorry. Anyway, yeah, set for a match against this guy and I’m on my way to the show. It’s three hours away, I’m driving there, got my girl in the seat beside me and we come to this corner we gotta go down. We’re turning and then BAM! Truck from ahead collides with my side of the car, we go toppling over, you know, like the shit you see in the movies and as we’re rolling I catch a glimpse of the person driving the truck.”
“Pauly?”
He points at me with a stern nod, “Fucking Pauly! By the time we stopped moving, the fucker was gone. Reckon he thought I was dead. I’m completely delirious by this point, I don’t know what the hell’s going on and then my girl comes to, looks down at my lower half and lets out the most goddamn blood-curdling scream I’ve ever heard in my fifty-one years on this earth. Me in my state, it takes awhile for me to register what’s going on and when I finally look down, left leg’s been fucking severed. I’m there, looking down at a bloody, torn apart stump and you know what I say?”
“What?”
“I look back at my girl and utter, in the weakest tone possible, ‘we at the show yet, babe?’. Then I black out. Completely black out. I wake up a few days later, my stump’s in bandages and my entire families standing around me, looking miserable as fuck. Cops come in, the questions start flyin’ and I tell them that I remember seeing Pauly in that front seat so they head off to put their investigation skills to the test. Turns out, I wasn’t wrong. Pauly had rented that truck no more than thirty minutes before the collision. Thirty. Fucking. Minutes.”
“What’d they do with him?”
“What I begged for them not to. Put him the joint for attempted murder. Last I heard he was out but he’s made no contact with me and I haven’t even tried to contact him. I was never able to compete again, I mean, I tried but when I lost my leg, I lost Pauly...and when I lost Pauly, I lost a little part of my own soul. It just, wasn’t the same anymore. Not to mention it’s damn fucking hard work trying to wrestle with prosthetics, shit. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for what he did but there’s that piece of me that just wishes I could go back in time, relive those glory days and stop ourselves from even joining that place. Maybe things would’ve worked out differently but I guess, the curse probably would’ve chosen us either way.”
“And this curse, you’re saying it’s chosen me and Tyron?”
He kicks at the pavement, “Prefuckingcisely my friend. That Wide Load guy, after everything you’ve been through together, the highs and the lows, he tried to end your career and won’t give up until he’s done just that. This curse, has marked you two. Just like it marked Pauly and just like it marked me.”
I finish my cigarette and drop the butt against the concrete, just as Mike does a moment later. “What is it? I mean, where does it originate?”
“Some folks like to trace it back to biblical times, you know what with Abel and Cane? Hell, Michael and Lucifer? But me? I don’t believe in that shit. I think it’s something else. Honestly, it could even just be mere coincidence. There’s just no telling. However, that doesn’t make the situation you’re in any less fucked up. I just wanted to warn you, you seem like a good guy. Confused, a little rough around the edges and probably with a few anger issues but we’ve all been there. I know I have. You’ve got a great kid in there, Heath. What you and Bickerton have going right now, is war and you gotta make damn sure that you win it, if not for yourself then for that boy.”
With all this information still processing through my head, I give a simple nod, my fists clenching at the same time.
“It was good meeting you, Heath. I can tell that this curse is fucking with the wrong guy.”
My eyes shoot straight up towards him, “You bet your ass it is.”
After a smile and nod, Mark turns and starts walking into the parking lot towards a black sedan. I watch until he leaves, giving him a slight wave as he passes.
INT. WRESTLING PERFORMANCE CENTRE - AFTERNOON
I step back inside the building, just in time to catch Ryan getting Lucario into a side headlock and following up with a swift bulldog. Dusko begins the applause and I join in, making way over to the ring. I catch Ryan’s attention, who turns to me with a grin that could have the ability to leave long, wavy stretch marks around his lips.
Mike’s words echo through my head, “There’s a fire burning deep down in that kid’s heart, Heath. I don’t know if you’re able to see it but I can. He’s special. He’s more like you than you think he is. Just give it some time, you’ll see what I mean.”
I see what you mean, Mike. I see what you mean.
INT. XCEL ENERGY CENTRE - JUNE 15TH - EVENING
*REC
Rotating the camera around the arena, I try my best to capture every empty seat on film, allowing whoever’s watching to paint their own picture of what this place is going to be like in just twenty-four short hours, when Fate of the Gods reaches its starting point. Standing in the already well-constructed ring, I turn the lens so that it angles in on my face as my eyes circle the venue.
“It’s hard to imagine that this time tomorrow night, this arena will hold nearly eighteen thousand screaming fans, cheering me on in what could very well be the defining moment of my career. A Pick Your Poision 2-Out-of-3 Falls match where I put this baby on the line,” I raise the I4NI Championship so that it comes into view before once again proudly placing it over my shoulder. “against the Juggernaut of Saint City, the Wide Load himself and most importantly, my former teammate...Tyron Bickerton.”
I let out a long, sorrow-filled sigh as I direct my eyes towards the camera, “How did it come to this, man? How the fuck did we go from being the best of friends with the same hopes and dreams to bitter rivals with only one shared interest? That one interest being, the pain of the other.”
My eyes find the ground as I clear my throat, “I’ve gotta be honest here, I let the heat of the moment get to me. From the minute you betrayed me that day...the only thing on my mind, was revenge. I even went as far as burning everything that made me think about you, however it wasn’t until everything had incinerated that I came to realize that no matter how many photographs of the two of us that I burn, the memories of the days they were taken will forever be imprinted within my mind and my heart.
But with that being said, I still wanna hurt you. I still wanna make you regret ever
The scent of incinerating ink and paper wafts up towards my nose, each nostril inhaling the overbearing stench without a care in the world. I watch the once cherished photos of myself and my former best friend burn to a crinkled crisp with two clenched fists and a single tear, slowly rolling down my right cheek. So many years of friendship, thrown away in a single heartbeat. Though we had our issues in the past, they had never been like this. Never as serious as this. Never before had my brother tried to officially end my career. The same career, he had helped me build.
Throughout this time of hiding behind a tough facade and pretending like none of it matters, in reality, I’ve never felt so hurt. Everyday I wake up with an ache in my heart and every night I go to sleep with one. It isn’t a physical ache, it’s one of pure, raw, emotion, one that occurs every time I think about him and the times we’ve shared. I was never convinced that I was going to lead a happy life, one where I’d own a home or have a family but I was always convinced that I’d at least have Tyron there with me, where we’d watch out for one another like the brothers we had grown up as.
But since it happened, since shit went all the way south, I’ve had the time to think. I’ve come to understand that no matter how strong two people’s bond can be, said bond is never safe from being broken. It can be torn in half just like that, whether it be from words, actions or even some sort of third party. However, I look back and think about all those that’ve been cut from my life and never, not once did I ever expect that Tyron would be added to that list. Then again, I’m not the one putting him on my list am I? He’s the one putting me on his and thus, now the only thing that can be done, is to say goodbye to our memories linked through brotherhood.
There’s no point trying to reason with him, especially not now after letting things come this far. I feel like my ego has gotten the best of me, perhaps there was another way to go about this...but with this new attitude of his towards everything, would he even listen to words? Or would they enter one ear and float right out the other just as quickly? I think that’s why I responded the way I did, because deep down I know the only way to settle this is for blood to be spilt and for the both us to put our pride on the line in a match that neither will forget.
I hear a series of footsteps behind me, the sound of creaking floorboards flowing into each ear. The source of the steps must possess a pair of seriously small feet because if not for the floorboards, they would’ve approached me completely undetected. They get closer, until I feel a child’s hand take hold of my forearm. I half turn my head, seeing Ryan peering up at me with heavy bags under his eyes. He turns his attention to the vast amounts of ash spread across the concrete foundation of the fireplace with a slight frown.
“What are you doing up so late, dad?” He asks with a strong sense of exhaustion in his voice.
“Couldn’t sleep. Go back to bed son, we’ve got an early plane to catch.”
“Are you missing Uncle Tyron?”
“Don’t call him that.” I half snap, sending him aback. Feeling bad, I put my arm around him and join in at staring into the leftover embers of the dying flames before us. “He’s not your uncle and he’s no longer my brother. He made his choice.”
Ryan says nothing and doesn’t move a muscle, that is until I feel his head fall against my side with a thump. I look over, noticing that his eyes are glued shut just as he begins a powerful symphony of snores. With a light smile, I pick him up off his feet and throw him over my shoulder, exiting the room and taking him back to his bed where I lay him down before flipping the covers over his body. Immediately, he rolls over onto his side and kicks a leg out from underneath with a stretch of the arms to match. I rest a hand on his head, brushing his thick black hair away from his eyes.
“I love you, my son. I know that with you by my side, I can make it through this.”
---
INT. ST. PAUL, MISSOURI - MISSY’S HOTEL - JUNE 11TH - DAY
I inhale a deep breath as my knuckles come into near contact with the door of Missy’s hotel room, I just know that the minute she opens up, spells a certain lecture for me. I can hear her voice in my head already, ‘Forfeit this match right now! You’re still unfit to compete!’ or, ‘Call Tyron! Work things out!’. That’s only the beginning too, I can’t even imagine what she’s going to say when she finds out I’m going to train Ryan how to wrestle.
“You alright, dad?” Ryan asks from my left, clearly noticing my hesitation.
“Yeah, I’m good...just, scared.”
“I understand. She scares me, too.”
“Tell me about it. She has that effect on people.”
“She’s pretty hot, though.”
I look at Ryan with an eyebrow raised, “You’re kidding, right? Bitch looks like a gender confused Chewbacca.”
“A hot gender confused Chewbacca.”
Dumbfounded by this, I turn back to the door, ready to finally take that leap of faith and begin a-knocking but it seems I’ve been beaten to it, as I hear a chain slide off its rail from the other side to indicate that the room is being unlocked. It opens up a crack and Missy’s head peers out from inside, at first glance she seems curious as to who’s behind the door but her expression immediately drops when she sees that it’s just me.
“Thought I heard voices. I was expecting you several hours ago.”
“Yeah...uhh...we stopped for nacho’s.”
“It doesn’t take three hours to eat nacho’s, Heath.”
“Fine, you got me, we went to buy you a chocolate bar too.”
She perks up, looking at me before turning her attention to Ryan, trying to locate the whereabouts of this so-called chocolate. “Well, where is it then?”
“Umm…” I begin to sweat, I had eaten it. The whole thing. In two glorious bites. Quick, Heath, make something up… “Uh, Ryan ate it. The whole thing. In two glorious bites.”
“Hey, no I didn-” Ryan tries to defend himself but I cut him off with a nudge, signalling that he just go with it.
Missy sighs, shaking her head before pushing the door further open and escorting us inside. To my surprise, she isn’t wearing her usual businesswoman suit but instead one of those white hotel robes with her hair tied up in a casual bun. I hear the sound of the door shut behind us Ryan closes it, just as Missy flops against the sofa. I take a seat opposite her on a recliner as Ryan sits beside her. He looks pretty pleased with himself, being right next to the ‘hot gender confused Chewbacca’.
“What a mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time.” She tells me, with an unimpressed shake of the head. “Just won the I4NI Championship, almost got your career thrown on a silver platter, only just got yourself medically cleared and you’re already going into a bout that could leave you with every single bone in your body shattered.”
My body tingles with fear and anxiety, I’m just waiting for her tone to pick up and for something to be hurled at me, or to be slapped with an iron palm. My eyes float all the way to the ground, like a child being told off by their mother. However, when I muster enough courage to look back up, I see a huge smile spread across her face. She lifts her legs up and rests them on the coffee table.
“Good boy.”
Without any thought of action, my face screws up. “Huh? You’re not, pissed off?”
“Why would I be?” She laughs, “Do you understand how much money this is making me? This is one of the most talked about matches of the whole event! I’ll admit, at first I wanted the two of you to sort things out so that we could set up a rematch for The Requiem at those Twin City Titles...but the moment I saw that big fat cheque in Sky’s hand, being passed over to me, I stopped giving two shits.”
“But, you realize once Fate of the Gods is said and done with, all that cash goes away, right?”
“Partially. I still get enough from you being I4NI Champion.”
“Theoretically speaking, what if Tyron wins, what about then?”
“Then I’ll still be getting a cut. He’s still technically my client too, after all. Despite the lack of contact.”
I smirk, my jaw half clenching, eyes directed straight at Missy. “I thought you had changed. For a while there, I felt like you actually cared about us. But hey, I guess as long as you have a full bank account then that’s all that truly matters, huh Missy?”
She leans forward with a cold stare. “Why should I care about two people that don’t give a shit about me? Throughout all this senseless bickering, you’ve forgotten all about who helped you rise the ranks as a tag team, who helped you both to become household VoW names. You’ve made it clear that whatever bond we have, is strictly business.”
“You’re wrong. You’re our sister. We’re both grateful for everything you’ve done. If you don’t want to believe me, then fine. My bond with Tyron’s already been cut, I have no problem cutting another.”
“Good. Now leave. I’ll contact you if there’s anything business related that needs to be spoken about.”
With a grunt in response, I make a gesture to Ryan that we leave before standing and following him back to the door. He opens it and steps out but just as I’m about to do the same, Missy calls out.
“Heath, wait.”
I freeze, turning my head and looking over my shoulder.
“Be careful out there...please.” The look of sheer innocence in her eyes tell me that she really does care and that this was just one of our petty arguments added to a list with the many we’ve already had.
“Sorry but, me and that word just don’t mix-up too well so I can’t promise that. I can however promise that I’ll be leaving Fate of the Gods in one piece and as the reigning I4NI Champion. Take care, Missy.” I give her a tender smile and exit the room, journeying down the hallway with Ryan.
The thing is with Missy is that she can’t help but put on the miss boss woman act, she’s a natural born leader to say the least. Just like me, she has a hard time expressing herself without showing off that hard, cold exterior but deep down she’s someone else, she has a heart full of loving emotion that she just doesn’t know how to let flow. However, no matter how many arguments we have, no matter how many times we can’t see eye to eye I just know that Missy will always be around and honestly, I don’t know what I’d do if she wasn’t. I should make more of an effort with her, speak to her when things are playing on my mind or when I have plans that may affect the future.
Then again, I think some things would be better off keeping from her until she finds out for herself…
“Hey dad, why didn’t you tell Missy that you’re training me?” Ryan pipes up, as we make way into the elevator.
I say nothing as he continues to stare at me, searching for an answer within my facial expressions but I don’t make it easy for him and not even an eyelash is bat as I choose the ground floor from our list of options.
---
INT. WRESTLING PERFORMANCE CENTRE - JUNE 13TH - AFTERNOON
“I look ridiculous!” Ryan cries from behind the door of the changing room.
I roll my eyes, “My god you sound like your mother. It’s not about what you look like, it’s about learning the ropes. You’ll get to choose your attire when you’ve risen in the ranks.”
After another whimper, the door slowly creaks open and Ryan appears in a silly red leotard with matching headgear. I bite my tongue, struggling to hold in my laughter.
“Hey now, don’t forget the mouth guard.” I remind him.
Stiffening his upper lip, he groans and puts the mouthguard in. “Better?” He asks in a muffled tone.
“You betcha.” I cock my head. “Come on, Dusko will be here soon.”
He follows me over to the training ring and we both hop in. I lean up against the turnbuckle as he watches me, awaiting my instructions.
“Okay, so first I wanna test out your speed and endurance. Run the ropes until I tell you to stop.”
He spits the mouthguard into his right palm and screws up his face, “What do you mean?”
“Seriously? You don’t know what running the ropes is?” I rub my hand over my face, Ryan isn’t like what I was at his age, by the time I was twelve I could already pull off some of the most advance wrestling maneuvers. “Basically, I want you to run from rope to rope, bouncing off of each one.”
Putting the mouthguard back in, he nods and immediately gets into it. He bounces off the set of ropes nearest me and sprints over to the opposite side, doing the same and repeating the process a further five times. After the sixth, he starts to become rather sluggish, panting as he desperately tries to impress me. He becomes increasingly slow centre ring and even drops to one knee.
“I didn’t say stop.”
He glances up at me and pushes himself back to his feet, continuing the run. He manages to press on for another three sets but collapses against the ropes on the far side of the ring immediately after, face as red as his leotard.
“Once again, I didn’t say stop.”
Frustratingly, he turns with a clenched jaw. “Screw you! Can’t you see that I’m tired?!”
“Yeah, which is exactly why you shouldn’t be stopping. If you stop to take a breather, you’re only going to dwell on the fact that you’re tired, making the feeling intensify. If you keep going, you’ll eventually find your runner's high. Remember, pain’s just weakness leaving the body my son.”
My message appears to sink in, as he positions himself to get back into it. However, the doors fly open and Dusko bursts in, sporting a suit of divine class. He looks like he should be on the red carpet, not in a performance centre. He struts over to the ring and rolls in underneath the bottom rope before standing and greeting me with a hug.
“Heaf! Oh how good it is to see jou!”
“Even after what went down a few weeks ago?”
“Of course! Dusko would never hold a grudge against his pal, Heaf!”
“Well, that’s good to know, I guess...say, where’s the kid?”
Once again taking out the mouthguard, Ryan butts in. “Kid? Huh?”
Dusko’s attention turns to Ryan and his mouth forms the perfect ‘o’ shape. He rushes up to him and bends down. “Wow! Jou have grown so much since Uncle Dusko last see jou!” He gives him a pat on the head, scruffing his hair underneath the helmet.
“Yeah, I have.” Ryan answers before looking back up at me. “What’s this talk about a kid? Am I getting a sparring partner or something?”
To answer his question, a buffed out, completely ripped teenager with broad shoulders steps into the room wearing a leotard that almost matches Ryan’s, only it’s blue and his physique does a better job at filling it out. Ryan’s jaw drops, he’s in terrified awe.
“Ryan, meet Lucario Rosheen. The prodigal son of Kalberkaderkastanian wrestling. He’s come a long way to help train you.” I explain, answering any other questions he might have in mind.
“Dey say he will surpass Dusko someday.” Dusko chimes in with a chuckle and a snort. “But what do dey know?”
Lucario climbs into the ring and places himself in front of Ryan, the difference in size is incredible. It’s like pitting King Kong up against Michael Cera. It’s difficult to believe that they’re only three years apart in age. Lucario looks Ryan dead in the eyes before glaring him up and down, clearly not impressed by his scrawny stature.
“Dis is joke, right?” He asks, turning to Dusko. “Harhar, jou are so funny Master Varesanovic. Where is Lucario’s real opponent?”
“This ain’t no joke, kid.” I say, walking over. “Lucario, meet Ryan, my son.”
Lucario looks at me, Ryan, then me again, his lips forming a smirk. “Dis is son of great Heaf Willums? Jou cannot expect Lucario to believe dat.”
“Believe dat, Lucario. Dis is da troof.” Dusko assures him.
He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders, finally accepting it as fact. He steps back into his corner and begins a pre-match stretch. Ryan scurries over to me, eyes telling me just how frightened he is.
“You can’t expect me to fight him! I mean, look at him! He’s like three times my size! You haven’t even taught me any wrestling moves!”
“You’ve watched my matches, haven’t you?”
“Well...yeah…”
“Then you should know exactly what to do.”
I watch a little more confidence pass through him as he gives me a nod. He takes his corner and I step out onto the apron, Dusko doing the same on Lucario’s side. The youngins meet in the centre and Ryan extends a shaky hand, to which Lucario basically scoffs at. He refuses to show the proper form of respect that Ryan wants, who responds by pushing the hand further towards him. Lucario smacks it out of the way, Ryan taking a moment to ponder just how strong this guy is. Even though it’s his back that’s facing me, I feel Ryan’s demeanor shift and the same hand is immediately scrunched up into a ball and shoved straight into Lucario’s cheek who takes a slight step back, absorbing the impact. Very slowly, he turns his head back towards Ryan with a look of pure disgust plastered across his face.
“Jou have weak punch. It is pathetic.”
He sends his own right uppercut straight into Ryan’s stomach, who’s spine instantly curls over as the air forces its way out of his lungs. Lucario follows up with an elbow to the back of the skull, planting Ryan against the canvas. My fatherly instincts kick in and I just about find myself getting involved and beating the living snot out of the little shit but my attention is diverted when the doors to the centre open once more. In walks a stern looking roughian of a man in his late forties, early fifties at the most. I can’t see his eyes passed the thick black lenses of his sunglasses so I can’t tell where he’s looking, until he takes a seat a mere few metres away from the ring, his gaze settling on the events transpiring inside. I see that this guy’s presence hasn’t fazed anybody else, as Lucario hits a leg drop on Ryan’s lower back, who shouts in agony.
“Jou are such a weakling Ryan! Dis is too easy for Lucario!”
“It is time to show dem jour ultimate headlock, Luca!” Dusko instructs, his mentoring coming into play.
Following orders, Lucario drops and wraps a single bicep around Ryan’s throat, pulling backwards and turning Ryan into a plum. Ryan’s fingers swipe away at Lucario’s arm but there’s no use, the grip’s too tight. From behind me, I can hear choppy audio coming from the man’s cellphone but it’s clear enough to understand that what’s playing is the latest installment to Bickerton’s “Heath Williams Tour of Self-Destruction”.
“Hey, let’s take a quick break, yeah?” I say to Dusko, who gives Lucario a nod that causes the boy wonder to stop in his tracks, letting Ryan go.
Ryan gasps for oxygen as he crawls over to me. “This guy’s too tough, dad! He nearly killed me!”
“Don’t worry son, you’ll be fine. Your last name might be Gallagher but you’re just as much of a Williams too. Don’t forget that.”
Ryan nods and I tell him that I’ll be back in a moment before turning and making way over to the man whose eyes fail to stray away from the phone. “Who are you?” I ask with the utmost macho tone mixed with a splash of curiosity.
“Oh you know, just a spectator.” He answers as he exits the video on his phone and enters some kind of game app.
“Cut the shit and fucking look at me when I’m talking to you.”
This grabs his attention as he turns the phone off and stands, finally sharing eye contact. He gestures towards the doors, “Care to step outside with me for a minute?”
Hesitantly, I peer up at the ring, Ryan watching on as Lucario and Dusko talk gameplans. I give the guy a nod and follow him passed the ring and towards the doors.
“Where are jou going, Heaf?” Dusko asks, Lucario looking over too.
“I won’t be long. You can handle things in my absence.”
Dusko nods, “Okay boys, jou will start again. From da top.”
EXT. WRESTLING PERFORMANCE CENTRE - AFTERNOON
“Quite the kid you’ve got there.” The guy tells me as he takes out a packet of cigarettes, passing me one before lighting his own.
“Yeah, Lucario isn’t mine.” I respond as he hands me a lighter.
“I’m not talking about the walking bottle of spray-tan. I’m talking about the other one.”
With a frown, I spark my cigarette and pass his lighter back to him. There’s no way he could be talking about Ryan, this is his first day in the ring, he hasn’t had enough practice for such praise. Not to mention, he was getting his ass handed to him by Lucario from the moment the spar began.
“He your son?”
“Yeah. His name’s Ryan. Good kid. Don’t really know about his in-ring ability yet.”
“Oh he’ll get there. He is the son of The Hardcore Hero, after all. Am I right?”
Taking a drag from my cigarette, I stare at him, trying to figure out his intentions and more importantly, his identity. “Who the fuck are you? Like, seriously man.”
He puts his hand out, “Me? Well I’m Mike Reinich. Some people call me Mikey Metal, or in some cases, just Metal.”
Wait a minute, I know who this guy is. Back in the day, he was apart of one of the most illustrious tag teams of the biz, Punk Metal, with his cohort Pauly Punk. They won the tag titles everywhere they went, there wasn’t a single place they didn’t. However, after time, they sort’ve just disappeared without a trace. Word had it that they disbanded and went on to do different things, separately.
I take Mike’s hand and give him a nod of respect, “It’s an honour to meet you.”
“Likewise, likewise. Not every day you get to meet a former WTF World Champion.”
We both let go and continue to become befuddled within our clouds of nicotine. “So, what brings you to St. Paul?” I ask, taking a drag. “Got a front row seat to Fate of the Gods?”
“Nosebleed, actually. I’m not too bothered though. That’s not the reason I’m here.”
“Then...what is?”
“Well, there’s two, really. Which one you wanna hear first?”
I shrug, how am I supposed to know? “Uh, either or.”
“I’m in the process of finding young people like your boy to join my circuit, it’s all about training the next big superstars of the wrestling world and getting them used to the idea of performing for live crowds, improving their skills on the mic, you know, all the fun stuff. I heard about that Lucario dude being in town, thought he might be a worthy asset. Kid’s got quite the ego though.”
“Yeah, he’s a bit of a douchebag if you ask me.” I smirk, Mike following suit.
“Wouldn’t mind taking Ryan somewhere down the line though. He’s got a lot to offer.”
“Most parents would be pleased to hear that but I’m skeptical. You only watched him fight for like ten seconds, how could that be enough to know that you’d like to take him under your wing?”
“There’s a fire burning deep down in that kid’s heart, Heath. I don’t know if you’re able to see it but I can. He’s special. He’s more like you than you think he is. Just give it some time, you’ll see what I mean.”
I nod, taking his expertise into account. I’m glad to know that a professional thinks my boy’s got what it takes but the other reason as to why he’s here creeps into thought, I wonder what it could be.
“What was reason number two for being out here?”
Mike smiles, glancing up at the sky, the sun reflecting off the lens of his glasses. “To explain to you what the curse of brotherhood is.”
Curse of brotherhood? Is he talking about the current rivalry between myself and Bickerton? I’m all ears from this point forward and I think he can tell as he carries on without my saying of anything.
“The curse of brotherhood is something that’s been lingering around the tag teams within the wrestling industry since its inception, way back when. It has many different stages, many different forms. Sometimes it’s something stupid like a fight over who gets to take the sexy piece of ass from the bar home, or who gets to take the stage first. Other times it’s a little more intense than that, it can be a spat over a singles title or just some kind of rivalry to see who the better man is but believe me when I tell you this Heath, it can also be ten times nastier than all of that.”
“How?”
He has a puff of his cigarette and looks at me before letting out a sigh and pulling up the left sleeve of his trousers, revealing a shiny metal prosthetic in his place of his leg. “This is why I quit wrestling.”
Staring down at it, I wonder if I should ask, if I should even dare to ask but I can’t help it, I need to know more. “And...how’d you get that?”
“My partner, Pauly Punk. Everything was great. Fucking great. Twelve title runs we had as a team. Twelve of ‘em. Not too long after we signed up with Chaos Every Minute, this hardcore big leagues place, the owner wanted to take a different approach to what Pauly and I were as a team. Instead of going for the duo-set belts, he wanted me challenging Buzz Thunder for the World Title and Pauly going for the mid-tier against Rangoon. This didn’t sit well with Pauly, he believed that he had worked harder than me over the years and that I didn’t deserve the opportunity I was getting. He ended up breaching his contract and going MIA about a week later. Some time went on, I hadn’t heard anything from Pauly, I took home the big one and even though I was happy my only wish was that Pauly had’ve been there with me. Month goes on, I’m set to defend the title against this upstart, some kid from the South, impressive ring talent but dumb as fucking nails. Ended up taking a hammer shot to the head and becoming completely brain dead, can you believe that?”
“You’re trailing off the point, Mike.”
He nervously smiles, “Shit. Sorry. Anyway, yeah, set for a match against this guy and I’m on my way to the show. It’s three hours away, I’m driving there, got my girl in the seat beside me and we come to this corner we gotta go down. We’re turning and then BAM! Truck from ahead collides with my side of the car, we go toppling over, you know, like the shit you see in the movies and as we’re rolling I catch a glimpse of the person driving the truck.”
“Pauly?”
He points at me with a stern nod, “Fucking Pauly! By the time we stopped moving, the fucker was gone. Reckon he thought I was dead. I’m completely delirious by this point, I don’t know what the hell’s going on and then my girl comes to, looks down at my lower half and lets out the most goddamn blood-curdling scream I’ve ever heard in my fifty-one years on this earth. Me in my state, it takes awhile for me to register what’s going on and when I finally look down, left leg’s been fucking severed. I’m there, looking down at a bloody, torn apart stump and you know what I say?”
“What?”
“I look back at my girl and utter, in the weakest tone possible, ‘we at the show yet, babe?’. Then I black out. Completely black out. I wake up a few days later, my stump’s in bandages and my entire families standing around me, looking miserable as fuck. Cops come in, the questions start flyin’ and I tell them that I remember seeing Pauly in that front seat so they head off to put their investigation skills to the test. Turns out, I wasn’t wrong. Pauly had rented that truck no more than thirty minutes before the collision. Thirty. Fucking. Minutes.”
“What’d they do with him?”
“What I begged for them not to. Put him the joint for attempted murder. Last I heard he was out but he’s made no contact with me and I haven’t even tried to contact him. I was never able to compete again, I mean, I tried but when I lost my leg, I lost Pauly...and when I lost Pauly, I lost a little part of my own soul. It just, wasn’t the same anymore. Not to mention it’s damn fucking hard work trying to wrestle with prosthetics, shit. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for what he did but there’s that piece of me that just wishes I could go back in time, relive those glory days and stop ourselves from even joining that place. Maybe things would’ve worked out differently but I guess, the curse probably would’ve chosen us either way.”
“And this curse, you’re saying it’s chosen me and Tyron?”
He kicks at the pavement, “Prefuckingcisely my friend. That Wide Load guy, after everything you’ve been through together, the highs and the lows, he tried to end your career and won’t give up until he’s done just that. This curse, has marked you two. Just like it marked Pauly and just like it marked me.”
I finish my cigarette and drop the butt against the concrete, just as Mike does a moment later. “What is it? I mean, where does it originate?”
“Some folks like to trace it back to biblical times, you know what with Abel and Cane? Hell, Michael and Lucifer? But me? I don’t believe in that shit. I think it’s something else. Honestly, it could even just be mere coincidence. There’s just no telling. However, that doesn’t make the situation you’re in any less fucked up. I just wanted to warn you, you seem like a good guy. Confused, a little rough around the edges and probably with a few anger issues but we’ve all been there. I know I have. You’ve got a great kid in there, Heath. What you and Bickerton have going right now, is war and you gotta make damn sure that you win it, if not for yourself then for that boy.”
With all this information still processing through my head, I give a simple nod, my fists clenching at the same time.
“It was good meeting you, Heath. I can tell that this curse is fucking with the wrong guy.”
My eyes shoot straight up towards him, “You bet your ass it is.”
After a smile and nod, Mark turns and starts walking into the parking lot towards a black sedan. I watch until he leaves, giving him a slight wave as he passes.
INT. WRESTLING PERFORMANCE CENTRE - AFTERNOON
I step back inside the building, just in time to catch Ryan getting Lucario into a side headlock and following up with a swift bulldog. Dusko begins the applause and I join in, making way over to the ring. I catch Ryan’s attention, who turns to me with a grin that could have the ability to leave long, wavy stretch marks around his lips.
Mike’s words echo through my head, “There’s a fire burning deep down in that kid’s heart, Heath. I don’t know if you’re able to see it but I can. He’s special. He’s more like you than you think he is. Just give it some time, you’ll see what I mean.”
I see what you mean, Mike. I see what you mean.
INT. XCEL ENERGY CENTRE - JUNE 15TH - EVENING
*REC
Rotating the camera around the arena, I try my best to capture every empty seat on film, allowing whoever’s watching to paint their own picture of what this place is going to be like in just twenty-four short hours, when Fate of the Gods reaches its starting point. Standing in the already well-constructed ring, I turn the lens so that it angles in on my face as my eyes circle the venue.
“It’s hard to imagine that this time tomorrow night, this arena will hold nearly eighteen thousand screaming fans, cheering me on in what could very well be the defining moment of my career. A Pick Your Poision 2-Out-of-3 Falls match where I put this baby on the line,” I raise the I4NI Championship so that it comes into view before once again proudly placing it over my shoulder. “against the Juggernaut of Saint City, the Wide Load himself and most importantly, my former teammate...Tyron Bickerton.”
I let out a long, sorrow-filled sigh as I direct my eyes towards the camera, “How did it come to this, man? How the fuck did we go from being the best of friends with the same hopes and dreams to bitter rivals with only one shared interest? That one interest being, the pain of the other.”
My eyes find the ground as I clear my throat, “I’ve gotta be honest here, I let the heat of the moment get to me. From the minute you betrayed me that day...the only thing on my mind, was revenge. I even went as far as burning everything that made me think about you, however it wasn’t until everything had incinerated that I came to realize that no matter how many photographs of the two of us that I burn, the memories of the days they were taken will forever be imprinted within my mind and my heart.
But with that being said, I still wanna hurt you. I still wanna make you regret ever
fucking with me, for ever insulting this championship and for ever breaking the hearts of all those children, all those fans that put their faith in you, that cheered for you when you took home that Zero Gravity Championship, that cheered for us when we took down the Cutthroat Corps for those Twin City titles. All those people, they believed in The Requiem, even when we didn’t. We should’ve forced ourselves to work shit out for them...we should’ve...we could’ve…
But no. The both of us have quite the egos, don’t we? When we’re right, we’re right and when we’re wrong, we’re still right. Opinions suddenly become facts and the real facts, well they’re thrown somewhere in between the debate and the solution. The debate being your beliefs of how I’m the problem and always was - and the solution being, that you just shut the fuck up already. Though of course, your ideas of a solution are different, you think that the solution is getting rid of me and ending my career. So thus, the two different solutions are also thrown into the debate and thrown into the fire that causes us to go through the same vicious cycle again and a-fucking-gain.”
With a breath, I decide to take a seat, crossing my legs as I position the camera to tilt upwards on the canvas so that I’m still in view, the championship still draped over my left shoulder. “It’s a cycle that I’m getting really damn tired of but can’t stop going through because neither one of us will drop our own respective prides just like that. No, we have to fight about it all, bicker about every little thing because that’s just who we are. I won’t listen to reason and nor will you and that’s why we’re here…that’s how it’s come to this...
But so be it, if I have to fight you, I will. Hell, I want to fight you because this has come so far that fighting’s the only thing left, it’s the only thing we can do. I mean, all the Heath Williams propaganda you’ve come up with over the past month could’ve been spared but I guess that’s just your own little way of trying to get inside my head.” My lips find a smirk. “Who writes those, by the way? Because the words that come outta your mouth in those things, sound more like the words of a slimey corporate stooge like Earl Coleman rather than a once modest young lad brought up in the heart of Shailer Park. Or is that how it’s been from the get go? Just before Nothing Else Matters, did Coleman come waltzing up to you with his hand at the ready before shoving it up your asshole and making you his own personal puppet? You know, that’s a theory I could actually get behind.”
I pause, going over what I had just said in my head before shaking it and allowing my eyes to drift off to the side. “No. Actually, I’m wrong. Completely wrong. There wouldn’t be enough room for Coleman’s hand in your asshole seeing as it’s already occupied by the grubby little fingers of that wannabe sovereign tart Rebecca Saint.” I stare back at the camera, jaw clenched. “That’s right. I went there. You wanna know why I went there? Because before she came along, you were your own man but the moment she arrived in VoW, you changed. You didn’t wanna hang around Missy and I anymore, you didn’t wanna devise strategies and gameplans for The Requiem anymore, you didn’t even want me coming to your tests when you thought you had brain cancer. So face it, you’re whipped and to the highest fucking degree of the term at that. She’s got you brainwashed just like that loud-mouthed oriental girl.” I bite my tongue and raise my hand, “Sorry, middle-eastern. I know how much it upsets you when I get Mimi’s nationality confused with something else so I thought best to correct myself before you have a big ol’ cry about it. Which is something that really wouldn’t surprise me, taking into account this whole new little bitch boy attitude of yours.
Oh yeah, so I don’t know if this means anything to you, nor do I really care but I met Mikey Metal the other day. You know, that guy in Punk Metal? One of the tag teams we grew up watching? Anyway, remember when we had wondered why they split up and spent months awaiting their return as a team? I found out why they never did. As it turns out, Pauly took a mouthful of that little green bug called jealousy and ultimately, tried to end Mikey’s life. Poor dude lost his fucking leg because of it. This sound kinda familiar to you? No, it won’t because you’re hellbent on so-called fact that jealousy was never one of, if not the root of the problem.
But I mean, there’s so many different possibilities of how or why this all started. It could be some of the things I’ve already mentioned, our egos, Saint or Coleman pulling the strings, jealousy and fuck, it could even be how you see it, just in a different light. Not in the light that my habits and addictions are the issue but in the light that you just can’t handle my party animal nature and never could.”
I stop as I feel a certain sincerity enter my emotions, “Or it could be what I haven’t yet spoken about...Mikey liked to call it ‘the curse of brotherhood’. Let me explain, this curse is something that’s been feeding off of the tag team division for god knows how long, it picks two worthy candidates and then the most likely of the pair to turn on the other before feasting off the emotions hidden deep within that person, causing the utmost havoc between the two that it’s marked. I did some research and similar things that are going on with us went on with a long list of other teams too...the aforementioned Punk Metal, the Rage Factory, the Subtracted Souls, The Orchestra of Wolves and now, there’s a good chance that for some reason it’s picked the two of us.
Well, that’s the answer I’m hoping for, anyway...because I don’t want to believe that you’d willingly turn your back on me, I don’t want to believe that you’d willingly turn your back on everything we’ve accomplished together, I don’t want to believe that you’d willingly turn your back on the fans who've supported us through thick and thin. I want to believe that once this match is all said and done with that we can go back to how things used to be but I know that’s probably just wishful thinking. I just…” I take a deep breath, holding back any tears that’d like to rear their ugly heads. “I want my friend back. I want my brother back. I know that right now, that’s far too much to ask of the higher powers that control this universe we live in...but I hope that fate smiles upon me and that soon, things will just go back to normal.
So, all I have left to say is that Tyron, I don’t know what the fate of the gods is but what I do know is that your fate will be to watch me walk out of the Xcel Energy Centre still I4NI Champion. Embrace the anarchy my friend...oh and, bring your A-game.”
With that, I give the camera a nod, pretending that I’m staring back at Tyron before reaching over and switching it off.
Fin.
But no. The both of us have quite the egos, don’t we? When we’re right, we’re right and when we’re wrong, we’re still right. Opinions suddenly become facts and the real facts, well they’re thrown somewhere in between the debate and the solution. The debate being your beliefs of how I’m the problem and always was - and the solution being, that you just shut the fuck up already. Though of course, your ideas of a solution are different, you think that the solution is getting rid of me and ending my career. So thus, the two different solutions are also thrown into the debate and thrown into the fire that causes us to go through the same vicious cycle again and a-fucking-gain.”
With a breath, I decide to take a seat, crossing my legs as I position the camera to tilt upwards on the canvas so that I’m still in view, the championship still draped over my left shoulder. “It’s a cycle that I’m getting really damn tired of but can’t stop going through because neither one of us will drop our own respective prides just like that. No, we have to fight about it all, bicker about every little thing because that’s just who we are. I won’t listen to reason and nor will you and that’s why we’re here…that’s how it’s come to this...
But so be it, if I have to fight you, I will. Hell, I want to fight you because this has come so far that fighting’s the only thing left, it’s the only thing we can do. I mean, all the Heath Williams propaganda you’ve come up with over the past month could’ve been spared but I guess that’s just your own little way of trying to get inside my head.” My lips find a smirk. “Who writes those, by the way? Because the words that come outta your mouth in those things, sound more like the words of a slimey corporate stooge like Earl Coleman rather than a once modest young lad brought up in the heart of Shailer Park. Or is that how it’s been from the get go? Just before Nothing Else Matters, did Coleman come waltzing up to you with his hand at the ready before shoving it up your asshole and making you his own personal puppet? You know, that’s a theory I could actually get behind.”
I pause, going over what I had just said in my head before shaking it and allowing my eyes to drift off to the side. “No. Actually, I’m wrong. Completely wrong. There wouldn’t be enough room for Coleman’s hand in your asshole seeing as it’s already occupied by the grubby little fingers of that wannabe sovereign tart Rebecca Saint.” I stare back at the camera, jaw clenched. “That’s right. I went there. You wanna know why I went there? Because before she came along, you were your own man but the moment she arrived in VoW, you changed. You didn’t wanna hang around Missy and I anymore, you didn’t wanna devise strategies and gameplans for The Requiem anymore, you didn’t even want me coming to your tests when you thought you had brain cancer. So face it, you’re whipped and to the highest fucking degree of the term at that. She’s got you brainwashed just like that loud-mouthed oriental girl.” I bite my tongue and raise my hand, “Sorry, middle-eastern. I know how much it upsets you when I get Mimi’s nationality confused with something else so I thought best to correct myself before you have a big ol’ cry about it. Which is something that really wouldn’t surprise me, taking into account this whole new little bitch boy attitude of yours.
Oh yeah, so I don’t know if this means anything to you, nor do I really care but I met Mikey Metal the other day. You know, that guy in Punk Metal? One of the tag teams we grew up watching? Anyway, remember when we had wondered why they split up and spent months awaiting their return as a team? I found out why they never did. As it turns out, Pauly took a mouthful of that little green bug called jealousy and ultimately, tried to end Mikey’s life. Poor dude lost his fucking leg because of it. This sound kinda familiar to you? No, it won’t because you’re hellbent on so-called fact that jealousy was never one of, if not the root of the problem.
But I mean, there’s so many different possibilities of how or why this all started. It could be some of the things I’ve already mentioned, our egos, Saint or Coleman pulling the strings, jealousy and fuck, it could even be how you see it, just in a different light. Not in the light that my habits and addictions are the issue but in the light that you just can’t handle my party animal nature and never could.”
I stop as I feel a certain sincerity enter my emotions, “Or it could be what I haven’t yet spoken about...Mikey liked to call it ‘the curse of brotherhood’. Let me explain, this curse is something that’s been feeding off of the tag team division for god knows how long, it picks two worthy candidates and then the most likely of the pair to turn on the other before feasting off the emotions hidden deep within that person, causing the utmost havoc between the two that it’s marked. I did some research and similar things that are going on with us went on with a long list of other teams too...the aforementioned Punk Metal, the Rage Factory, the Subtracted Souls, The Orchestra of Wolves and now, there’s a good chance that for some reason it’s picked the two of us.
Well, that’s the answer I’m hoping for, anyway...because I don’t want to believe that you’d willingly turn your back on me, I don’t want to believe that you’d willingly turn your back on everything we’ve accomplished together, I don’t want to believe that you’d willingly turn your back on the fans who've supported us through thick and thin. I want to believe that once this match is all said and done with that we can go back to how things used to be but I know that’s probably just wishful thinking. I just…” I take a deep breath, holding back any tears that’d like to rear their ugly heads. “I want my friend back. I want my brother back. I know that right now, that’s far too much to ask of the higher powers that control this universe we live in...but I hope that fate smiles upon me and that soon, things will just go back to normal.
So, all I have left to say is that Tyron, I don’t know what the fate of the gods is but what I do know is that your fate will be to watch me walk out of the Xcel Energy Centre still I4NI Champion. Embrace the anarchy my friend...oh and, bring your A-game.”
With that, I give the camera a nod, pretending that I’m staring back at Tyron before reaching over and switching it off.
Fin.