Post by Brett Carson on Jul 29, 2014 6:19:31 GMT -6
Fluke.
That’s all it was...A fluke. He got lucky...I was off my game...I wasn’t prepared for it...He had my tights...The referee’s count was fast. I don’t know how he did it but I know for a fact that it was a fluke.
This is all Frei’s fault...Why would you give a guy who calls himself The Ultraviolent Perfectionist a spot in a tournament where the prize is a pure wrestling championship? Idiocy at it’s finest.
It was a fluke.
I’ll end him the next time I’m in the ring with him.
Fluke.
The silence in his house was almost eerie as his head rested on the plump pillow. He was beaten fair and square by Patrick Kay Anthony...and deep down he knew it too but his ego couldn’t handle it. He ran several excuses and reasons as to why he lost.
He used too much baby oil...he was far too sweaty...I’m pretty sure he had a hand-full of my trunks...The referee counted a little more faster than normal…
All the excuses in the world ran through his head...It just didn’t make sense to him. How could he have lost to someone like...P...K...A? He had beaten him twice before in decently convincing fashion but when it was all said and done Brett couldn’t beat him when it mattered the most...when he needed the win the most. Just like Goldie had said…
He jinxed the match…
Carson decided instead of staying in Saint Cloud he would return to his home in Minnesota, where he could be in the comforts of his girlfriend. Much to the surprise of those who found out, one of the most hated men in VOW...has someone that likes him. Introduce the woman whose head rested on Brett’s chest...Jevica Bradshaw. A woman who for the past month or two had chosen to stay away from the wrestling world due to it’s bitter, dog eat dog, any means neccesary world. She’s the off-screen one woman support team for the Next Level Athlete and she’s also Brett’s girlfriend.
“You’ll get him next time, Brett...I know you will. You win some, you lose some, babe…” She quietly murmurs. Her soft voice slicing through the silent frustration in the atmosphere.
“There is no next time. I can beat him another 3 or 4 times and it won’t matter because he has a win over me….a win that I so desperately needed to have.” Brett bitterly replies before releasing a heavy sigh…
Is BG to blame? Has he, much like all the other mentors I’ve had, led me into the ground?
Silence once again overcame the room as he shuts his eyes for a moment and is met with the image of the arena lights after being pinned by PKA...An image that hasn’t left him since that night. Every time he closes his eyes...that image is there...so much so it’s become some sort of a nightmare. A horrific nightmare that Brett can’t escape from…
Sleepless nights have come by as since that night Brett hasn’t been contacted, messaged or even heard from his mentor. Had Goldie abandoned him? Left him to drown in the middle of the sea? The simple thought of that caused Brett’s blood to boil…
How dare he lead me to the fire and then just leave me there...Leave me to burn. How dare he…
Or was Bronx embarrassed? Embarrassed that maybe just...maybe he was wrong about Brett the whole time. Well, as if right on cue a vibration cut through the silence as Brett startled out of his moment of thought and looked to his side table where his android phone was blinking and vibrating all over the table. Jevica lifted herself to a seated position as Brett picked up the mobile phone and looked at the name on the screen…Bronx Goldie.
Brett tapped his thumb on the green button and answered the call before placing the phone, almost hesitantly to his ears.
A hint of anger in his voice as he softly muttered, “Where the hell have you been?” He gritted his teeth.
The reply that Brett had gotten had thrown him off guard as Bronx wasn’t angry or embarrassed, “Sorry, kid...I had some...personal business to take care of. Listen, I’m gonna need you to meet me outside. There’s somewhere we need to go.” Goldie explained, not waiting for a reply from his client, instead ending the call then and there.
Brett pulls the mobile away from his ear and looks at the screen which informs him that Goldie ended the call.
“After not contacting me for 3, maybe 4 days….That’s the conversation.” Brett chuckles in amazement before getting out of his bed, “Jev, I gotta go meet him outside, he says that there’s somewhere we ‘need’ to go. I’ll call you and let you know when the hell I might be coming back alright?” He leans back towards her and kisses her passionately before she herself nods with a smile.
After a few moments of changing into more fitting attire and packing a small bag of items he might need for whatever the unpredictable loose cannon, that is Bronson Goldward, might have in store for him, Brett hauls everything out the door to where he spots BG’s shining, gold, pride and joy, the Volkswaggen’ and leaning back against the passenger side door is none other than the man himself, wearing that trademark black pinstripe suit/white collar shirt/silk golden tie combination and of course wearing his trademark, Colgate smile.
“Nice and quick as always, Brett my boy. That’s good we’ve got to head off fast as we’ve got...well..we’ve got something rather urgent to attend to.” Bronx’s smile and bright attitude momentarily halts to more of a serious state, he pauses for a moment before jolting into action again briskly walking around the van to his side, opening the driver’s side door and stepping in.
Brett picks up his sports bag and another small pack and lumbers his way to the van, still feeling bitter about his so-called manager leaving him high and dry for a few days, days that could’ve been used for training or strategizing for Brett’s upcoming match at Breakthrough #9 against Matt Rydell. Crucial days were wasted and if you were familiar with Goldie’s tactics and shenanigans than you would know that BG always has something silly and time consuming up his sleeve, something that could waste another crucial day.
And after his crushing defeat against PKA, believe it or not...the last thing Brett’s going to be doing is underestimating Rydell. Carson hoisted his luggage into the back, portable home section of the custom van before sliding the door shut with a fierce slam and entering in the passenger seat as BG started up the vehicle’s roaring yet aging engine.
Rydell…It may just be right place, right time for him. Goldie better reconcile himself, prove to me that I’m not repeating the same mistakes I made years ago when I was under the tutelage of Steve Frei.
“I can’t believe you. Some manager, mentor, advisor, whatever the fuck you turned out to be...I’ve been messaging you, calling you, sending bloody e-mails...Let’s be honest nobody sends a fucking e-mail anymore unless they’re desperate.” Brett unloads, firing away at his mentor.
“Like I said...Some things have come up. I was busy with my personal life, kid.” Bronx simply replies, as the vehicle stops at a light. This allows Goldie to reach into his suit pocket and pull out a single cigarette and lighter, lighting up the cancer stick and popping it in his mouth before taking a long drag.
That’s a load of bullshit...
Carson expresses his thoughts externally in an exaggerated manner, “That is an absolute load of bullshit. You don’t have a fucking family, you’ve only had like 3 or 4 failed marriages, you live by yourself in this god forsaken wannabe RV.” Brett harshly spits as Goldies rolls down his window and proceeds to blow out smoke after yet another drag.
He chuckles slightly, “That shows how much you know about me, kiddo.” He’s clearly not letting out much information which only infuriates Brett even more.
“I swear Goldward, if this is another one of your bullshit lessons like taking me to some classroom or some god damn arcade…” Carson grinds his teeth, “...You’re on thin ice.” He finishes.
Goldie takes another silent drag as he shakes his head. The normally loudmouth simply chooses to stay silent as they continue to drive. After nearly 20 minutes of silence that would only be interrupted on occasion with a cough or a muzzled out curse towards other drivers, courtesy of Bronx. The silence between both Bronx and Brett finally stop after Carson simply throws his arms up in frustration.
“Look...Since we’re both here now and I have no god damn clue as to how long it’s going to take to reach wherever the hell you’re taking me or when we’ll damn well see each other again can we at least talk strategy?” Carson gives in, shooting a glare towards his manager.
Goldie (who for curious minds, has finished his smoke) doesn’t bother even looking back towards his client, “No point, we’re here now. We’ll talk later…”
Of course we are...Asshole.
“Asshole..” Carson mutters under his breath as Goldie pulls up in front of the middle of nowhere. In the middle of the badlands, there seems to be a decently sized house, a barn behind it and farm land as far as the eye can see.
I have a really bad feeling about this…
“Where the hell are we, BG?! What the hell is going?” Carson fought for answers as he stared out through the window, heat rising through the window as the orange, red dirt goes for miles behind the stand alone house.
Goldie shivers a little as he opens the van door and hops out, “You’re about to find out, kiddo.”
I wish he’d quit with the god damn curveball answers...Why the hell do I continuously listen to him?
Brett groans before swinging the passenger seat door open in a fit of rage and stepping out and onto the cracking, old road. The wave of heat caused his line of sight to become wavy as their foots slapped against the creaking wooden floor on the porch and they stood, side by side glaring at the front door.
Brett couldn’t take his eyes off of his mentor, there was a look in Goldie’s eyes, a sudden look of worry and horror. Despite the struggle in professional relationship, Brett couldn’t help but still consider BG a friend, after all not just anyone takes a chance on a guy who’s green but has a larger than life ego. After a minute passed, Goldie sighed and knocked on the door, rattling the whole frame of the door, which...much like everything else in this area, was old, aging and weakened from the harsh weather.
It only took a few seconds before the door open and out came a woman. The woman was wearing a stained blue and white striped top and a jean skirt, she was sweating profusely...or was it just the shine that was left after a heavy amount of sobbing. Her face was pale and overall she was a complete mess. She scowled at Bronx for a moment before stepping forward and to the surprise of Brett, rears back and slaps the ever-living crap out of Goldie. Bronx takes the slap and slightly nods…
What the…!?
“It’s lovely to see you too, Rose…” Goldie whispered as Carson was utterly confused by this whole mess.
The woman took heavy breaths, it’s obvious she’s been waiting a long, long time to do that. But suddenly she stops and her anger turns into one of devastation and sadness as she...crumbles into the arms of Goldward? Bronx is partly taken back by the move but he embraces as the woman we assume is named Rose sobs bitterly onto the shoulder of a man Brett thought was heartless and cold. A few moments pass as Carson looks on in confusion at this whole scenario.
Who is this woman? Why the hell did she slap BG...and now cry on his damn shoulder?! What the hell did I miss?
“W-what...the hell is going on here? Have I missed something?” Brett asks, having no problem interrupting a heartfelt emotional moment.
The woman slowly pushes herself off Goldie who holds her up as support…
“I see you brought a friend with you...I apologise, Mister. It was rude of me not to acknowledge you as well as breakdown in front of you…” Rose sniffles, letting out a cough…
Goldie releases a heavy sigh, “Brett, this is Rose Ann Monroe...My 3rd wife’s sister.” Goldie mutters, that horrified look from earlier still remaining.
Oh shit…
“I got a call during your match against Patrick. Rose called and informed me that Wendy Monroe-Goldward had passed away. Wendy was my wife, my last wife...The woman who gave birth to my only child.” Bronx sighed.
Brett’s shoulders slumped as he tilted his head in a little bit of confusion and disbelief, “I...I don’t know what to say.” It’s a rare sight to see Bronx Goldie or Brett Carson as silent as they are but here they stand...in a moment of complete silence.
The silence is broken when suddenly behind Rose, a young teenage girl hops out...a wicked grin on her face and headphones in her ears. In her hand is a classic walkman...it’s dusty and scratched up but it’s a walkman. She doesn’t seem to be phased by the death of a woman...no sadness or solemn attitude, instead head banging. She glares at Carson and then over to Goldie. She smiles a little towards Goldie who in return waves back, hesitantly. The horrified look has become completely exaggerated as he glares at the teenager.
Bronx steps forward and awkwardly outstretches his hand, “I guess you must be…”
The teen interrupts Goldie and shakes his hand...yet another rare moment, “...Morgan. Morgan Monroe…” She nods back awkwardly, “...I guess you must beee….”
Morgan Mon-...Hold the fuck up. This shit is going way too fast here.
“Bronx Gol- I mean...Bronson Goldward.” Brett interrupts right back. Annnddd cue awkward silence.
Is...this his daughter? It can’t be...I mean her mother just died, she can’t be this...happy….can she?
The brown dried hair on this girl was messy as she wore a grey t-shirt and jeans that had mud marks at the knees as well as a few holes here and there.
Bronx is ultimately startled by the presence of the 15 year old teenager. A world class legend in the wrestling world, having wrestled monstrous men of the squared circle and having faced death on numerous occasions, Bronx Goldie...THE Bronx Goldie was shivering in his boots at the sight of Morgan, his daughter. She smiled again at the silence…
“Mom talked a lot about you, how you were a horrid man and that she would crush you if it was the last thing she did. I never believed her. I watched your stuff...and even though you were horrid. You were great at that stuff I guess…” Her eyes lead off of the face of her father and down to the floor as she scratches her head sheepishly, “I’m a little overwhelmed really. But I guess you’re here to take my...Dad”
That last word...that last word echoed through the head of Goldie. He wasn’t father material...He never wanted to be a father then and truth be told...He still doesn’t want to be a father. BG takes a few steps back as Rose’s look of concern at the meeting of daughter and father rapidly changes to one of fear.
“I’ll be right back…” Goldie utters as he twirls around, quite startled by the teenage girl that he partly helped create. He grabs an unsuspecting Brett by the shirt sleeve and practically drags him off the porch…
The Next Level Athlete is still quite shocked by the quickly escalated turn of events…
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me your ex-wife died?! What the hell is wrong with you, BG?” Carson scolds under a whisper as he momentarily looks back to the two ladies on the porch.
Goldie shakes his head, “That’s not important. She’s dead and by law I’m uh...fit to take care of her, I have a job, a home and well...she’ll be able to live with a parent. But there is no way in hell this guy is becoming a dad...I high-tailed it when she was born and I’m high tailing it now. Which is why you’re here…” Goldie replies, also under a whisper.
Ohhhh no...He isn’t doing what I think he’s damn well doing.
“Wait what?”
“Look...I-I know you have a match coming up but I gotta get the fuck outta here dude. You can drive a car….I know you can. You have a family and a life she’ll be fine with. Take her off my hands for the love of God. Bronx Goldie doesn’t do...children. I never have done children and I never will…” He harshly adds as Carson shakes his head in disbelief...The heartless and cold Bronx Goldie is still well.
Carson shakes his head and waves his finger, “Nope. I can’t do that...There’s no way you’re dumping your responsibilities on me. Her mother died for fuck’s sake dude...Be a father for once in your life and take her in. Who knows she might become a damn good pro wrestler..”
Goldie throws his arms up in the air, “That’s it. I can’t be a father because I’m me...When the big man upstairs made me, his intentions were for me to be the greatest professional wrestler that ever lived which I damn well am...was. I wasn’t made to be a father to some ditzy teenager, Brett...Look, I know...It’s all of sudden, I really thought I could do this but I can’t. Thank fuck for my genius in bringing you along as Plan B. B standing for Brett...I guess that makes you my Plan C as well...standing for Carson.” BG lightly chuckles as they try and keep the conversation to a quiet murmur to keep Morgan and Rose from listening in, “...I’m begging you, dude...After all I’ve done for-”
“Let’s not even go there.” Brett points his index finger towards his desperate manager…he sighs, “Alright. But by god you better come back for her...I ain’t handling her my whole life.” Brett reluctantly agrees, slowly nodding his head.
What the hell is Jevica gonna think? Kid in the house suddenly…
Bronx sighs in relief before throwing himself onto his client/apprentice, in a really awkward hug, “You my dear friend are a life-saver…” He exhales, joy gleaming through his tone again.
They both nod before returning to Rose and Morgan...Rose appears to be annoyed by the long conversation between Brett and Bronx.
Goldie chuckles and playfully slaps Morgan on her shoulder, “Okay, kiddo….There’s been some slight change of plans, I’m super busy these days and won’t be able to take care of you but my buddy, Brett over here...He’s gonna take my place. He’s a wrestler just like your ole’ man was. He travels a whole lot and he’s uhh…” Goldie bats his eyes towards Brett and observes him for a moment, “...I suppose, he’s a half decent guy to be around. But yeah...So Brett Carson, Morgan Monroe, Morgy, Brett.”
And with that swift introduction he pushes the rattled up teen towards Brett before stepping back and clasping his hands together in joy, that is until Rose steps in pulling Morgan away from.
“Now wait just a dang minute...I refuse to stand by and let you run away from this girl. She’s been waiting for you for years upon years...And besides, she don’t want no stinkin pretty boi to raise ‘er…” Rose utters, talking major slang towards the two city boys.
Bronx smiles a little and shakes his head, “Rose, this’ll be good for Morgan. Travelling, sight-seeing, meeting new people...I mean, do you think she really wants to live in a place where he neighbour is another 3 miles away from her? She needs to live Rose.” Bronx proclaims, Morgan is in deep thought as she doesn’t take her eyes off of Brett.
Rose breathes a reluctant sigh, “Morgan, What do you think, love?”
She jerks her head towards her Aunt, “It’ll be an experience, Aunt Rose. I don’t mind, it sure as hell is better than working the farm life.” She releases a grin as she tightly grasps her walkman.
Rose nods still reluctant on the idea, “Then I suppose it’s settled…”
Morgan and Rose tightly embrace as Bronx jogs over to the van and starts removing Brett’s luggage. After the embrace Morgan goes back inside the crummy house to pack as much as she can as quickly as she can. Rose steps up to Brett and politely shakes his hand…
“Encourage her to mail letters to me, take care of her...She’s tough but she needs guidance. Take care of her, that’s all I ask. God help your soul if you don’t take care of Morgan. Wendy might come out of her grave and haunt you for eternity…” Rose speaks rather bitterly as Brett smirks, not intimidated in the slightest. He nods slowly before she turns around and heads back inside the house.
What the hell have I gotten myself into...What would my mother and father think? Jevica...Would she be able to handle having a teenager in the house? Bahh..
Brett is startled out of his thought at Goldie dropping the final bag of Brett’s outside the van. Carson’s eyes widen as he swiftly charges towards Goldward.
“What are you doing? Put my shit back in…” Carson starts to pick up his stuff again but before he can throw it back in the van Goldie steps in front to stop him.
“Look...I told you. I need to get the fuck out. I’m going back to Mexico...or Japan...or Russia, going to go wrestle small indy promotions again to pay the bills and live a simple life. I want nothing to do with this girl…I’ll talk to some people and get the guardian paper crap signed and sent to you so you and your girl can become the legal guardians.” Bronx scratches his head, as he snatches the bag out of Brett’s hand and dumps it back on the ground, “...I’ll still watch your matches, call you and throw you the occasional pointer but I...I just can’t face her. Rose has a second truck, I know you can drive so take her back to Minneapolis.” Goldie suggests as he closes the sliding door for the back portion of the custom van.
This lying little…
“You’re leaving me high and dry, huh?”Brett shakes his head, a light chuckle escaping his mouth.
“Don’t look at it that way, just call it...Us parting out ways.” Bronx smiles and outstretches his hand.
I can’t fucking believe him...Damn coward.
Brett shakes his head and instead of shaking Bronx’s hand, he spins around and heads back to Rose’ house as Goldie simply sighs and lumbers into the van.
I never needed his ass anyway...I didn’t need Frei and I don’t need Goldie. I’m not a “Frei Guy” nor am I a “Golden Boy”...I’m Brett Carson.
It took much convincing and plenty of arguing but the faded blue, rickety old pick-up truck was the transportation for Brett as his phone acted as a GPS for his route back to his house...in the passenger seat was Morgan Monroe.
For a girl who had lost her mother and...well...had a father who just simply wasn’t ready for fatherhood even at the age Goldie was, she was...quite bubbly. It almost sickened Brett in a way. She was listening to the crappy radio they had going on but every few minutes she would have a glance at Brett.
“So you’re a wrestler, like my Dad, huh?” Morgan questioned, half focuses and rattling her walkman and observing it’s detailed hard outer features.
Brett kept his focus on the road but appreciated the start to the conversation, “Yep.”
“Are you just as good as he used to be?” She followed up, turning away from her walkman and glaring back at Brett.
I’m better…
“Uhh...No, I’m good...but not as good as your Dad used to be.” Brett lied, adding in a fake smile.
“Oh…” She pops before looking back towards her walkman.
“When we reach my place, you’ll get to meet my girlfriend, Jevica. She’s super sweet, she’ll get you some new clothes and teach you the city ways. I’ll be off to my next show…” Brett informs her.
She jerks back up, “Can I come? Please, Brett...Please, purty please with heaps of sugar, honey and cinnamon buns on top?!” She clasps her hands together and pouts.
Brett chuckles and shakes his head, “It’s far too dangerous, I can’t...I’m sorry. I’ve got to be uber focused for my match.”
Morgan sighed before exhaling and sucking in her stomach...Brett raises and eyebrow, pondering on what she was doing...suddenly the 15 year old let out a blood curdling scream…
“RAAAAAPPPPPEEEEEEEE!”
Holy shit...
Brett halted the truck in the middle of the road and covered her mouth as she started giggling at the quick reaction.
“Are you out of your flipping mind?! We’re about 10 minutes away from the city again and you decide to scream rape?! What the hell is wrong with you?” Brett scolds letting go of her mouth.
She let out a wide grin, “I wanna come dag nabbit!”
Carson sighs.
Matt Rydell...World class wrestler, decorated in all aspects from World Championships to Tag Titles to everything in between. You’ve had quite the run in VOW...A black mark here and there, including a defeat at my hands.
I’ll admit...I’m not as prepared as I’d like to be, I don’t have Bronx at my side. Things are different in my household. But I promise you that I’ll be walking into Breakthrough #9 with a damn vengeance. It’s a different Brett Carson...A more focused, no nonsense Carson.
You’ve been quite the talk of the show. Steel chair shots to the back of men like Mr. E...That’s quite the bold statement considering that E’s in that semi-final. Let me give you a bit of a history lesson, Mr. Rydell…
When it comes to VOW...The talk of every show is me. From the moment I assaulted Bobby Backdoor after his wrongly given main event to even my darkest hour...a loss to PKA last show, people are talking about me. That won’t change, not on my watch so that little attack on Mr. E was cute, a little funny it was to me, probably not to the big guy though…Mr. E is probably coming for you, it’s common sense for him to but I suggest for one night you forget about Mr. E and focus on the one person who you should be worried about the most.
Me.
Because in the end, how many championships you’ve won, how many awards you’ve been given...it all won’t matter. It won’t ever matter...not in VOW. You walk in with a clean plate...you would be on a level playing field with everyone else...except for me, I’m on a whole ‘nother level, Matty boy.
Come Tuesday night, I prove...no...I REMIND VoW of what I am capable of...I remind VOW just who the hell I am. I am the Next Level Athlete.
#GetOnMyLevel
_+F A D E T O B L A C K+_