Post by outcast on Jan 27, 2021 11:29:44 GMT -6
My fears hunt me down
Capturing my memories
The frontier of loss
They try to escape across the street where
Jesus stripped bare
And raped the spirit he was supposed to nurture
Capturing my memories
The frontier of loss
They try to escape across the street where
Jesus stripped bare
And raped the spirit he was supposed to nurture
Smoke from a Newport flutters against the moonlight. Snow gently falls over the valley of this unknown section of beauty nestled somewhere in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. The crisp winter air is cold but not as cold as my heart. I sit on the tailgate of my truck and overlook the peaceful nothingness of this unincorporated landscape. I shiver as I exhale and pull the collar of my jacket closer to my neck in an attempt to warm myself. Just as the smoke does, I allow my mind the same pleasure of being free to wonder.
The haves and have nots differ, having walks of life like night and day. Each found a way to their destiny. Hopefully, this can be understood. A stroke of luck and the haves live. Very rich, famous without care, everything comes out roses, in their lives. So, they'll be comfortable, while they exist. A lifestyle, that many envies and try to copy. Not cheap, by the way, or by any means. Driven by drive, motivated by success and luck
Hell, then has surrounded the have nots. All seem to be misunderstood, rejected, left to die. Very poor, infamous in some ways, nobody cares at all. Everything's been hard luck, from day one. Now, suppose that both die, on that very same day, only there's one thing that we all should remember. That what they had; they can't take it with them. So, the have and the have nots...are on equal terms.
The scene changes to one during the day time, but a much colder scene. October 11th, 2003, the day of Victor's funeral, the second-worst day in a life that has been filled with bad days. The only thing I feel is numb. Physically numb from pain killers, and emotionally numb because I am simply overwhelmed with the entirety of the situation. I am at the pinnacle of my career up to that point in time. The OCW Savage champion, a true star with a beautiful wife, a massive house, new cars, a new motorcycle, a new boat, and with more money in the bank than I had ever dreamed possible. But I'd trade it all for one more day with Victor.
The words of the Preacher officiating the funeral pass through my mind as I stare at the casket in front of me. Thoughts running through my mind. Thoughts of how it should be me in that casket and not Victor. Thoughts of how this is all my fault, and the thought of no matter how much I had said I’d never be like my father, I wound up exactly like him. Nothing but a druggy and a drunk who only cares about himself.
Nicole grasps my hand, I don’t know if it was to comfort me or for her own self-seeking comfort, but either way, I hate her for it. I wanted to wallow in this misery, I wanted to get into that grave, how dare she seek comfort for herself or for me. Life is pain, existence is punishment, wallow in it. That is when I realize how broken I am, physically in my prime, but mentally I am shattered. My son suffered the same cruel fate that I had, and that my father had, he was born of a broken man.
Jackson… we do not choose how we are born into this world. Some of us are born into a life of luxury, while some of us are born into poverty. I used to believe that life was planned out for you and no matter what you did you were either destined for life on the hill or life in the gutter. At one point in my life, I was a lot like you. An arrogant f**king prick, who thought their shit didn’t stink. I thought I had the world by the balls and that all I had to do was show up and I was going to win. I relied on natural athletic ability and what I thought was being a naturally badass mother**ker. Truth is, I was young and in my physical prime and a life of abuse and a constant state of inebriation kept me numb so I didn’t feel pain.
God smacked me down and the life I thought I had by the balls turned around and kicked me right in mine. Faster than I had gained it all, I lost it all. I got a hard dose of reality and was left helpless to myself as I watched my world crumble down around me. The thing about hitting rock bottom though is there is nowhere left to go but up. When I was left with nothing, back to square one I realized that it wasn’t fate, it wasn’t predestination, and it wasn’t a divine masterplan, it was just my own f**king fault.
We do not choose how we are born into this world, but we choose how we live our life. Every bad thing that ever happened to me was my fault and a direct consequence of poor decisions I had made. It took me decades to realize that, and once I realized that was when I was able to get clean and turn things around.
Now, Jackson, I’m sure you are wondering why you should give a shit about any of this. You got it made, right? You got nothing to worry about, right? That is where you are wrong, where your hubris fails you. And it is that hubris that will ultimately be your downfall. Truth is, you got a whole f**king lot to worry about, and that all comes in the form of me. Like a younger me you have gotten by on natural talent, but that talent will not help you against someone with a lifetime more knowledge than you. You’ve found success through the help of your friends, but at Adrenaline Rush it will be just you and I in that ring. No James Raven to carry your sorry ass, no Shawn Warstein to finish the job for you, just you and I.
Thus far you’ve been what many would call “lucky” in your matches. I know luck is bullshit, luck favors those who put in the work and I have been putting in the work for over twenty f**king years. You will learn that there is no such thing as luck and there is no such thing as fate. The poor decisions YOU MADE, have led you to this match, and have led to getting your skull caved in with a steel chair.
Your decision to use a lead pipe on me, to stalk me and sneak attack me with a chair, all led to you shitting your pants at Inferno and getting knocked the f**k out. I am not just going to humiliate and embarrass you, no, I am going to humble you. You need that God smack, you need that wake-up call, and those are coming in the form of a steel chair being bent beyond recognition over your head.
I take another drag from the Newport and slowly exhale as I stare up at the stary night. I remember looking at the stars on a clear night like this back when I lived in Buffalo Grove, an area I couldn’t afford to live in today. It was the last night I’d spend in that house before the bank foreclosed on it. The cars were gone, the boat and motorcycle were gone, the wife was gone, the money in the bank was gone, and the championship was gone. I lost it all just as quickly as I had gained it all. I sat in a lawn chair taking bong rips and drinking SoCo straight from the bottle.
I chased down a Soma with a gulp of whiskey and for the first time since my early teens, I thought about killing myself. Why even stay alive? I ruined my life, and I was basically dead now anyway, just walking around with nothing, waiting to die. I was the walking dead; I was a zombie. “F**k it”, I thought as I poured the rest of the Soma’s down my throat and chased them with the rest of the bottle of SoCo.
Everything goes black. I felt myself falling down, not down to the ground but down to the pits of hell. I feel the flames crackling and the heat rising up my body and then hear the voice of Victor saying, “not yet”. Then I remember my eyes opening and vomiting profusely. I rolled over to my stomach and pushed myself up as I continued vomiting. I remember looking at that vomit and seeing Soma’s in it. I focus on one of the Somas and stare at it, thinking, “I can’t even die right. I f**ked up killing myself, how worthless am I?”.
Fast forward twenty years and I’m on one of the best runs of my entire career. I’m ten and oh, the unified X-division champion, and quite honestly, I’ve got my sights set on the World championship. Amazing what opening your eyes and owning your shit will do for you. But I’m not counting my chickens just yet, because I know you are lurking in the shadows watching me. I don’t know what it is about me that drew your attention and your ire, and quite frankly I don’t give a damn what did. I just know that developed a hard-on for me and now I’m going to break that thing off and shove it up your ass. I guess that means you can go f**k yourself.
The memories rush in like water when a faucet is opened. I had been fired from OCW, or maybe it was GCWA they all bled together at that point in my life. It must have been GCWA because I remember sitting in a bar in Houston. I was there drowning my sorrows, I had blown my knee out in the middle of a match, and it not only cost me the GCWA World title, but it also cost me my job. I was several shots and several pain pills in, all I could feel was self-loathing, and all I wanted was to be left alone.
I feel a hand on my shoulder, and a voice I had hoped to never hear again say “Hello Christian”. I almost pulled a Jackson Hart and shit my pants. I asked myself if this is real. I slowly turned, half expecting to see a ghost and the other half expecting to see nothing. I was more stoned than an adulterous Iranian, and almost fail off the stool at the sight of my old man. He had just got out of prison three months prior after serving eleven years for manslaughter. The charge was bullshit, he murdered my mother, it was clearly murder. He pled down, weak evidence, his service record, and snitching helped him out. I had hoped he’d die in there, and if not, I had planned on killing him when he got out.
Well, here was my chance. He was standing right in front of me, and I felt like I was looking in a mirror. He could tell he had taken me by surprise and said, “Son, I saw you on TV the other day, and when I saw you sitting back here, I knew it was you. Son, I’m so…”.
I didn’t let him finish. I punched him in the mouth and dropped him flat on his back. It wasn’t even a conscious choice, it just happened. His calling me “son” just caused something in me to subconsciously snap. Before I realized what had happened, I was being dragged off of him by two bounces, it all felt so surreal, like an out of body experience I watched myself being dragged away.
That was the last day I saw him until his funeral. I went just to make sure the mother**ker was dead. As I stood there at his graveside and watched them filling that hole with dirt I thought about Victor and about how I had ruined him just like my father had ruined me. Victor suffered from the same misfortune that I did; he was born of a broken man.
Jackson, I am going to break you and leave you a broken man, both physically and mentally. Long after your wounds from our match heal, you will be left with scars of the mind and body. You will never be the same arrogant prick that you are now after that. You will know fear, you will know pain, and I mean real, life-long everlasting pain that follows you to the grave. You will be made a broken man. All of your luck, all of your charming good looks, and all of your privilege will never shine the same again because you will forever be tarnished. You may think you have it all, but you will never have the Unified X-Division championship, and you will never have the satisfaction of beating me. I may not have much, but I Sunday I will have your head on a silver f**king platter.
You fired the first shot in this conflict, and it might just turn into an all-out war between all of Legacy and me. I say war because I want that World championship, and I know if Betsy pulls that win out at Adrenaline Rush, that the Legacy troops will be rallying around her to protect the crown jewel at all cost. The jewel isn’t you Betsy, it’s that championship. People like Hart could give a f**k less about you, they just want the power and prestige, and that is why you targeted me, Hart. You want the honor of being the first person to beat me, but you ain’t the f**king one.
I’ve seen shit that would keep you up at night Hart. I’ve lived a life that would have broken you a thousand times over. You aren’t ready for this war. War is hell, and I am going to take you there.
Hell…
My mind fades again as memories of my youth trickle back. I’m just sitting on the couch trying to watch Married with Children, because… well Kelly Bundy. Then, dear old Dad comes stumbling in from God knows where and changes the channel to Magnum P.I. He stands in front of the TV staggering back and forth and then begins talking, at first it seems to no one and then I realize it is to me.
"You're gonna be a soldier boy, you're gonna make me and uncle Sam proud." My father said to me in a drunken stupor. I was Thirteen and forced into jrotc. I hated it, not the physicality of it, but the mentality of it. I hated that the war machine was trying to program me. I said nothing to him, I knew better than to say anything when he was in this state.
"You're going to be picking off commies and towel heads for Uncle Sam like I was dropping gooks for Nixon. Liberty or death motherf**kers" he says before holding up an imaginary gun and taking imaginary shots while making a gun noise with his mouth. My dad served in Nam, and to this day I think it was the root of his issues. Issues that were clearly passed down to me.
I remember him looking at me with disappointment that I wasn't sharing his same excitement for blood lust. His imaginary gun drops and he shakes his head as he says, "I can't believe my seed produced a f**king pussy like you.".
I didn't take that well, I knew when to avoid his ire, but he knew how to push me. I jumped to my feet and stood face to face with him. He takes a step closer and stares me down. We stand staring each other in the eye, neither saying anything. I feel my hands clenched into fists, but even in my puberty fueled rage I knew I didn’t stand a chance against him.
I unclench my fists and turn to head to my room. "I knew you were a little bitch, but didn't know you were a full-blown pussy.", that was it, he pushed that button. I turned and hit him with the hardest right hook I could muster. I caught him good too, right across the nose, busting it open and breaking it. I remember him turning to look at me, his nose busted open, and an evil smile on his face. After that, everything is black, because he beat the ever-loving shit out of me.
The sins of our fathers, right Jackson? But you wouldn't know about that, would you? I got even with my father, literally pissed on his grave. You, well you've never had Daddy issues, have you? You also never got revenge on Sins of the Father for taking the only championship you've had here. And as long as you keep coming at me, the only championship you will ever have. James Raven can't carry your sorry ass to a singles title win like he did with the tag team titles. You know what you remind me of Jackson? You remind me of a backup quarterback just riding the bench to a championship. You get to say that you are a champion, but you didn't contribute shit to the championship.
I'll admit when I looked at your record you had a much better record than I imagined. The thing is though, most of those wins are against scrubs and with James Raven carrying you on his back. The truth is you haven't done shit to deserve this match. One, one f**king singles win in your entire time in GCWA. I guess you thought you'd go for a swim in the singles pool and decided to jump right in the deep end and come after me. Well, you weaseled your way into a match you don't really deserve, but even more accurately, you have weaseled your way into a match that you are not ready for.
I could be poetic about this, and paint a portrait of violence using vocabularic tapestries, but I'll just be blunt about it. Jackson, I'm going to beat the shit out of you. Oh, wait, I already got the shit out of you, haven't I? And if you think that what I did to you in the bathroom with that chair was bad, then you are in for a night of living hell at Adrenaline Rush. I'm not just going to knock you out and beat you, hell no, I'm going to take my time with you and really enjoy punishing you for YOUR SINS!
No one forced you to come at me with a lead pipe. No one forced you to stalk me, and no one forced you to blindside me with a steel chair. These are your sins, acts committed by thy own hands. For these sins, you must be punished, and your punishment comes in the form of me crucifying you at Adrenaline Rush. You won’t be nailed to a wooden cross; you will be laid out on full display for the entire world to see as I leave you broken.