My Revolution

[Gemini Battle]

The White Whale


Livewire
Your words mean more than you think, Joey…

Grayson Pierce knelt uncomfortably in the pew of the local church. The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary was his mainstay in his formative years. He and his best friends were in the youth group there and truly used to find solace in the lord and his teachings. Then he became a skeptic, he began asking too many questions as tends to happen he was slowly removed from his positions as Youth Minister and 3rd grade religion teacher for ‘lack of faith,’ though they claimed scheduling problems. Despite the fact that the students loved him he didn’t teach the way that they wanted him to and thus was essentially excommunicated.

Maybe it’s a bit of an over exaggeration as he was still allowed to come and go as he pleased, but he chose not to for the most part. It had been over a decade since he stepped into this blessed place no including the time he was a groomsman in his Irish friend’s wedding.

But everything was different. The once worn down maroon cloth pew kneelers were refinished with royal blue leather and vibrant, and the colors in the front were white instead of crimson. The priest attending the confessionals was a young man that he had never met before. He greeted Pierce with a smile and a handshake, welcoming him in instead of the normal inhospitable glare and nod he had been accustomed to.

But some things never changed. The stained glass windows representing the 14 Stations of the Cross still were there and the small crack in the 7th station crossing over the face of Jesus as he fell for the second time still was never repaired.

He looked away from them and looked at the large crucifix above the altar and it reminded him of why he parted ways with this congregation.

Livewire
They hurt, people, Joey. And you need to choose them wisely. Centuries ago people treated the Bible as a literal representation of the word of God. They chose to treat it as precise as possible. In doing so they saw people who believed in things differently than they as lesser beings.

They saw people who believed in the beauty and grace of nature as Pagans, which in the most literal sense they are, but not in the devil worshipping way that they are often portrayed. They were seen as witches and for over 2000 thousand years they were hunted and they were burned at the stake.

Human beings burned at the stake for being different, all in the name of FUCKING god? Such ridiculous notions, aren’t they? But what’s even worse and lesser known is that they were not only hunting witches, but they were also hunting homosexuals. And when they were found they were also burned, but not quite as ceremoniously as the witches. They were simply tossed into the fire pit with the other bundles of sticks… with the other flaming faggots.

He winced at the demonic language pouring from his lips.

Livewire
I tell you this because I want you to begin to understand where I’m coming from, Joey. I know you are a smart dude. I know that you understand more about the world then you let on, and I know that you say things that are offensive as much for the effect of being controversial as you do for perhaps even meaning it. But keep in mind that when you call people faggots, or you call people cunts, or you call people retarded you’re not making yourself sound tough, or bigger or tougher, you’re showing a lack of knowledge about the world, and you’re proving your ignorance.

You’re not stupid, Joey. But you act it, which is even worse.

I grew up without a father. I grew up not knowing what a father should be like because I had no experience with one other than not paying child support and not being there for the holidays. I met him later in life and we forged a relationship that he threw out the window as quickly as it was formed. It was not ideal.

So I vowed to be a better father than he ever was… which wasn’t a tall order at all. And for 6 months I was the best father I could be. I was a man that he could be proud of and I can’t wait for the day when once again I can prove that I am better than my father at being a father.

But there’s more than that I want to prove. He was a legend in multiple wrestling companies. You can say that wrestling is in my blood, but I wouldn’t. I truly love it, but not because my father did it… it’s not genetically engrained in me to be a wrestler, but if my father did that too, then I need to prove that I’m better at him at that too, WHILE being a father or more accurately now a husband that my wife can be proud of.

It’s not easy. I work hard every day. I train, and I study all the while tending to the needs of my family in any way possible. And I don’t get a gargantuan stipend that assists me in this. I get a modest one that is mostly taken away in taxes and health insurance for my family. I fight and scratch and claw my way for every dollar that I earn. I could easily make more money than this performing on the road with my band, or even playing in a wedding band every weekend.

But that’s not why I do this. Because in order to be the man that my wife deserves I need to be happy in my profession, and music, though an incredibly heartening hobby of mine was not the passion I had to become successful in. It was wrestling, and in my heart I always knew that it was.

He got up off his knees and walked towards the back. There was nothing more that he could learn about himself here. It no longer gave him the solitude and peace that he needed to truly understand himself. Just like how he outgrew music as a respite from real life he also outgrew the church. And just like music, the relief was replaced by wrestling each week…

Livewire
I’ve become strong in my time here. This place called the WCF truly is the best thing that happened to me. I was successful other places, I even won the Grand Slam in the last company I worked for in only 6 short months, at the consternation of everyone there. And at the time I truly believed that they were the best in the world.

Oh how wrong I was.

So horribly, horribly wrong.

WCF beckoned, and I answered. And I failed time and time again. It was hard but then something clicked. Something finally made sense and I began to be successful. I fought through adversity, I overcame drug addiction, and I survived the death of my child to get to where I am right now.

Every week I stand in a locker room with the most talented and dedicated fighters the world has to offer, including you. I step into those hallowed halls with some narcissistic, and egotistical assholes, as well as some humble yet passionate warriors. But regardless of how they treat themselves and how they treat others there is no doubt in my mind or anyone else’s that has even the slightest brain on their heads that this is the most dominant and impressive company that has ever existed.

Everyone here can be the top champion in any other company, and yet they struggle to break the mid card here and even fewer of us break to the main event status that you and I are at. I am proud to be where I am, and I know that it takes hard work and dedication to get here, and that it takes even more to stay here. It doesn’t come easy for me, nor should it, because the talent underneath are fighting their way up the card and trying desperately to earn their spot that I have this week.

I started off as a nothing, and now coming off an unsuccessful title shot I’m intertwined with another opportunity to verify that it was no fluke that I got there, and to ensure that I stay here with an effort that can be surpassed by none.

He finally gets to his car and gets out of the bitter cold to the temped feeling frigid cold of his car, still a little warm as he spent so little time inside the chapel. He turned on the car and allowed the window to defog.

Livewire
I don’t do this often. I don’t talk about myself very often because well, generally I don’t feel that I’m all that interesting… and I’m sure you’ll agree. But I need you to know that I’m not taking this match lightly. I left One thinking that I would drop back down to Dag Riddick status and have to fight the likes of him and Lucious Starr to get my way back up.

I saw people taking advantage of others on the roster, and I saw some struggling to keep their heads above water. I saw Bonnie Blue essentially getting picked on by larger men, and fighting them off time and time again and thought, you know what, she shouldn’t have to do this alone…

I saw DeMarcus Jordan get verbally and physically assaulted by a racist and overzealous zealot week after week and thought that he was fighting for what was right, and needed an extra set of hands to help him do the right thing. I saw Andre Holmes believe that an Army of One was the only way to succeed and fighting losing battle because the fact of the matter is that 4 heads are better than one in any scenario.

When you joined Imperium it was because you wanted to raise your own stock. When you joined forces with Seth and Fly you did so because you knew they would help you get what YOU wanted and when you teamed up with Howard Black and Occulo you went against your true desires, and contradicted your own morals because you knew it would raise your stock yet again.

I saw things that needed to be fixed and I made sure that I was in a position to help fix these things and knew that by fighting the good fight that I would be able to fight my way back to the top of the ladder and earn my title shot yet again. But then, earlier than expected I was called upon again to fight for that shot at that World Title. And when duty calls I always answer.

Then the news broke that it would be against Joseph Malignaggi. And my heart fluttered in anticipation because who better to demonstrate against that I deserve that title shot than fighting a man who is 35-5 and the TV Champion of the year and co-wrestler of the year. What better opponent to face off against than the only man able to strip Dune of his title and end that dominant streak he had going. Who better to compete against than the man who has defeated my time and time again to finally show the world that I’m not lesser than he, and I’m not his equal, but I’m fucking better than him!

You are my white whale, Joey. You are the man that I have never defeated in a singles match and the only person on the roster who I’ve faced more than once that I can say that about. You’re fucking Moby Dick (aptly named) and I’m Captain Ahab. I’m obsessed with beating you this week. And it has nothing to do with revenge which seems to be your greatest motivating factor, but it has to do with pride. And for me there is no greater impetus that pride.

But unlike Captain Ahab I’m coming into this week with a clear head and an open mind. I’m not going to let nature’s calm impersonal strength defeat me. I’m going to conquer my quest and fulfill my dream and if that means that I need to take a harpoon to the heart to do so then I will. This week can only end in one way. With my arm raised and the winner of the main event trembling in their wrestling boots knowing what their fate is.

With the window clear and the path illuminated he drives off towards his next destination.

---

New Year’s Resolution


The new thing was NOT to make a New Year’s Resolution. Far too many people made a resolution to not make a resolution either basking in the glow of their ‘irony’ or completely missing it. Either way he felt that it was stupid.

Grayson truly believed in beginning fresh every year, and, especially after such a tumultuous 2015, he was looking forward to trying to settle things up and have a more successful 2016, which would be a tall order. This year he truly gained ground in the WCF, winning a title, and gaining a few solid friends. He won a record in a major event and headlined the top PPV of the year. But of course now, none of his accomplishments matter now. They helped get him to where he is but it’s where he goes from here that will be the most important.

For example…

He spent the beginning part of the year in a stupor, believing that he was someone he wasn’t. But when clarity found his soul once again he came out of it with a beautiful wife and a handsome son. And once he fully believed that he was worthy of such devotion it was ripped away from him in the most delicate way possible. Where the beginning of his year was full of chaos and anarchy the year ended in peaceful agony as he sat and pondered how he got to where he was now. He made something out of nothing, so at least this year he would be able to make something out of something.

2016 was a new year, and a fresh start. He was beginning to forge a new foundation for himself to build a massive year upon. The formation of Rebellution was only a stone in the underpinning of what he had planned for the year. They were a group of likeminded individuals with a mutual goal and common purpose.

Bonnie was a rambunctious time traveler with wisdom far beyond her years. DeMarcus Jordan was a sparkplug of a fighter with passion greater than he could even imagine, and Andre Holmes… well he needed a friend right now. He has all the talent in the world and needs to be focused, and having a plan other than fighting to fight is helping him gain the momentum he needs to get what he deserves. The four of them could fight together more cohesively than the DRG ever could, he truly believed that

But this still left the manner of his resolution.

Part of his yearly tradition was to make a resolution, and though he felt the idea of not making a resolution was foolish, he felt equally about the resolutions of ‘eat better’ or ‘get in better shape’ or things like ‘be a better person.’ Because they focused on what was wrong with people, and made them feel like they weren’t healthy enough or weren’t good enough. But the pressure of trying to be better at something was too much for anyone to take.

His resolution this year was simple, yet effective. He wanted to reconnect with people. Nothing crazy… he wasn’t going to reconnect with everyone in a deep and meaningful way, but he wanted to make a point that if he was thinking of someone who he hadn’t spoken to in a while to reach out to that person, just tell them that he was thinking of them and that he missed them.

He spent a night at the pool hall recently with the old drummer of his band, Cesare and they reconnected. This was a man that he was as close with as anyone and when the band split their friendship suffered. Music wasn’t the only thing they had in common but it appeared to be the only bond keeping them together. He missed his old friend and he didn’t want to miss out on any other relationships that he venerated for in the past.

That led him to this place. The large Oak door that he had been to a thousand times before stare back at him. His hand made its way to the cold brass knocker in the shape of a Lion’s head that he used to rap on the solid wooden door. He heard the echo of the knock from across the street, and it reminded of him dribbling the basketball in the street and wondering thinking that a kid down the road was messing with him.

The man who opened the door taught him about echoes, when he was just a kid, how the sound waves flew through the air and would ultimately find something to bounce off of, and change it’s direction back towards him causing him to hear it a second time. He remembered the joyous feeling of learning new things; it was one of the many things he missed about his dear Uncle. He taught him about most things. The large smile on the robust figure before him brought a smile onto the weathered face of Grayson Pierce, and the hug brought welcome warmth to his body that he missed in this imperturbable winter air.

Grayson
Uncle Egg!

Uncle Egg
Gray Bear!

Grayson
Don’t call me that!

The two men laughed and Egg led him through the marble corridor and to the eat-in kitchen where there were two empty cups were waiting for him. He sat down on the unbelievably comfortable and welcoming kitchen chair as his Uncle went to the stove where a boiling pot of water awaited him.

Grayson
Earl Gray?

Uncle Egg
Only the best.

The two shared a laugh and a talk. They caught up on the past few months, the passing of his son and the resurrection of his career. Egg as always, offered him money and as always Grayson refused, even though this time he really needed it. A few hours passed, but it only felt like minutes and Grayson looked at his Michelangelo Ninja Turtle watch. In front of the Pizza he held one nun chuck at 1 and the larger of the nun chucks near the three. It read 1:13… it always read the same thing for the past 10 years and still, every time he looked at it like it would magically start working. But he wouldn’t dare rid himself of the worthless yet priceless artifact.

Uncle Egg
You still have that old time piece.

Grayson
Mom gave it to me. It was like the only time I got the Christmas present that I wanted as a kid. I can’t get rid of it. It’s all I have left of her.

Uncle Egg
You can at least get it fixed.

He looked at his $4,000 Rolex watch uneasily, trying not to seem arrogant.

Uncle Egg
It’s nearly 8. Do you have somewhere to be?

Grayson thought about it. His wife was surely eating alt and vinegar potato chips and watching this season of ‘The Bachelor’ in bed. He had nowhere else to be… but at the same time they have exhausted their limit of conversation. He loved his Uncle, but he was so fucking smart that it intimidated him, and often left him speechless.

Grayson
No…nothing. Why don’t ya gimme another hit of tea.

Uncle Egg
The proper terminology is ‘Spot’ of…

Grayson smirked. His Uncle had these idiosyncrasies that he liked to exploit from time to time. Calling a cup of tea anything other than a spot or a cup drove him nuts, among other things. The smirk was returned by a look of whimsy.

Uncle Egg
Do you… Oh, never mind.

Grayson
What?

As though a lightbulb lit up over his head, Egg walked over to his bookshelf and pulled out a book. Grayson smiled. Since he was a boy Egg would take a book that he knew inside out and give him the Egg notes on them… his own version of Cliff notes. This was a great synopsis of great novels and he had learned about the Great Gatsby, and Little Women this way. He had a way of condensing a story that would normally take Grayson weeks to read into an hour or two and convey it better than any movie director could. The story in his mind was more remarkable than any images that a person could create.

Grayson sat back as he looked at the welcoming red book with white and black lettering upon it reading.

Sun Tzu- The Art of War.
Grayson
Go for it, Egg.

---

The Art of Wrestling


The words of his dear Uncle reverberated through his head as he remembered him talking about Sun Tzu and the art of war. It’s amazing how this mirrored the world he was living in at the moment. He never thought about how much athletics in general, specifically combat competition such as wrestling paralleled the battlefield.

Not everyone was destined for greatness. Destiny was a word that people who refused to take responsibility for their actions used to explain why they are where they are. It’s a thing that people with no ambition and no spirit use to mask their own insecurities. When he stepped into the ring every week, he stepped into a battlefield.


Uncle Egg
“All warfare is based on deception.”

Livewire
I’ve lived a lie my whole life. I’ve been someone who I’m not. As have you, Joey. You came into the WCF as this hard ass bitch without a soul. Incapable of truly understanding what love, or even what hate is. You simply floated through life wondering what it was like to feel. For all intents and purposes you were a sociopath. Hurting people with no remorse and making people fall in love with you with no intentions of reciprocation.

Uncle Egg
“Appear weak when you are strong…”

Livewire
You were weak, Joseph. You knew not what you wanted in life, so you bolstered your efforts; you took out jobber after jobber, padding your stats with victory after victory. But you failed, because like all man you too are fallible, Joey.

You lost to the Grimiest player in the game, a man who ultimately made a mockery of the title that you tried so hard to make relevant again since John Gable held it nearly a year earlier. You lost at the point where it was about to be saved, but you never did save it, now did you. You lost the match, and lost all fiber of your being. You knew not who you were anymore, or where you were going.


Uncle Egg
“…and strong when you are weak.”

Livewire
So you set your eyes forward, onward and upward. You fought valiantly time after time to try to win that coveted World Title. But men, REAL men like Thomas Bates and Dune stopped you time and time again. You stepped into the ring with a Mountain and were unable to scale it. And when you were at your weakest, you proved it by joining Imperium; trying desperately to salvage your fledging career. Reaching for anything to help make you relevant again.

Then you struck. You shamed Beckman out of the fed, and you pissed on Cairo so much he couldn’t take the warm liquid any longer. You drove Kaz out, claiming altruistic reasons but in fact you wanted to have the faction for yourself. You couldn’t drive ZMAC out so you shunned him instead, claiming that he wasn’t good enough to team with you.

You tried so desperately to make this make you relevant again, but again you found out that no one still gave a shit about you, Joey. You realized that you were a useless piece of crap that nobody cared about any more. Your undefeated streak was over, and that was all that made you special.

Uncle Egg
“Settle people into predictable patterns of response, occupying their minds while you wait for the extraordinary moment that which they cannot anticipate.”

Livewire
So you did the only thing left to do. For months people were praising you as you defended the Television Title against some losers and some greats. You were described as the next Jonny Fly, arguably the greatest to ever step foot into this company. As if you’re not narcissistic or egotistical enough, you were described as similar to one of the best and most humble competitors that ever graced the ring.

You knew deep down inside that you could never be as good as him. So you joined forces with him, trying desperately to create the most dominant team in the WCF. You tried so hard to be important gain, Joey that you sided with the biggest piece of crap in this company in Seth Lerch.

“Please notice me… please pay attention to me. Why don’t you love me anymore?”

You wanted so much to be important, that you didn’t realize that you were merely winding up impotent. You sided with the greatest to step foot into the ring and finally won another title. You held the tag team belts by winning a match against one person who was teaming up with a guy he hated, taking that man out nearly for good.

Uncle Egg
“The whole secret lies in confusing our enemy, so that they cannot fathom our real intent.”

Livewire
That selfish and undeserving victory simply made you even more irrelevant than you were before. Jonny Fly wasn’t motivated to work with you, putting out subpar effort time and time again. You couldn’t motivate a man who needed no motivation to team with you. You took a man who was the greatest in the company and you turned him into another useless jobber when he decided to side with you.

What does that say about you, Joey? What does it mean that a man who was the best was merely adequate in today’s climate, and not because he doesn’t have the chops any longer, but because he just didn’t truly like you. How does it make you feel knowing that you were the reason that Jonny Fly lost his TV Title so handedly and that you turned the Tag Titles into a joke so fucking badly that they still haven’t recovered in relevance. And this wouldn’t be the last time you turn a title irrelevant, but that part is coming, Joey.
Uncle Egg
“Rouse him, and learn the principle of his activity or inactivity. Force him to reveal himself, so as to find out his vulnerable spots.”

Livewire
You were crumbling faster that you grew. You couldn’t handle it so you reached as high as your fucking Tyrannosaurus arms would allow so people would notice you again, because the only way that you can live is if people are paying attention to you. You reached for Dune, the man making the biggest waves of sand in the WCF. The man that many said was unbeatable.

People used to say that about you.

They used to say that you were unbeatable.

But not anymore. Not at this time. They had you as a mid-carder at best, and thought that you would never achieve anything more than where you were. No one thought it, and it gave you a chip on your shoulder. Finally, you stopped fighting to make a name for yourself, and got back to fighting for the sake of fighting.

You stepped into a world you were unprepared for and your suffered the ultimate price. That same man that was unbeatable beat you worse than you could have possibly imagined. He took the life of your son, and all that apathy you had, and those sociopathic tendencies, inability to reason, or feel empathy, that all went away.

You became human that day, and because you were human you defeated a monster. You were at your very best, and finally, after nearly 9 months of inappositeness you became pertinent, and not because you defeated Dune, and not because you won the World title, no matter how brief.

No… you became significant again because you put forth an effort of the ages. You fought harder than anyone had ever fought before and you proved why people were calling you the next Jonny Fly because that night, for a fleeting moment you proved that you are good enough to be the next Jonny Fly, bro.

You fucking did it!

My heart sang for you, bro, like a troubadour singing your praises I saw and supported that part of you that you never wanted to show. I was so proud to see a man fight through adversity in one of the greatest stories ever told to finally come out victorious, knowing that the title was merely a superfluous reward in a greater victory of winning your soul. You rode off in the sunset as the best in the WCF, and the story should have ended there…
Uncle Egg
“If your opponent is of choleric temper, irritate him.”

Livewire
But it didn’t. You selfish piece of crap, you didn’t let it end. The story is over, and you are over. You were at the highest point that you could ever have reached. You can get no higher, don’t you see that. You were at your apex of awesome. You were beloved by fans and respected by the locker room. If you stayed where you were at that point you would have been a lock for the hall of fame, and the beat reporters would have labeled you as the second coming of Jonny Fly.

But your hubris wouldn’t allow it. You had to come back because you saw Dune come back. Dune’s story wasn’t over. He was dominant and would build up his reserve and win again. He could come back and tell the next chapter of his story, because he knew that he did have one. You didn’t. You created one out of nothing and what did you get for it. A boot to the face and a back through the mat. You were looking up at the lights, and at that moment you should have realized that you took one step too close to the sun, and now your wings were burned and you were falling down to grace.

You could have ended there. You tried to fight the monster again on his terms rather than yours and you lost. You proved that you weren’t good enough that night to truly defeat the man. You lost like you did so many other times.

So here you are again, back to where you were nearly a year ago after you lost to Grime. You are struggling to find where you are in life, and you teamed with Howard Black and Occulo, men that you perceived as equal as or better than yourself and hitched your ride on their band wagon and won the Trios Title with them.

When the DRG won those titles 9 months ago they were the most important thing in the WCF, and the most coveted title in the WCF. Everyone wanted to take down the most dominant stable in the WCF, and when we were finally dethroned the title was passed around to Pantheon, and then they crumbled when the People’s Choice took them. Then they crumbled when you took them off of them. Again, another undeserved victory as you took on the lowest of the Beach Krew and the mangled remains of The People’s choice. You once again made a title irrelevant.

What’s it going to take to get rid of you, Joey? Are you so selfish, and so ignorant to realize that it’s time for you to go? Your record doesn’t mean anything if there’s no substance to it. You can defeat the worst members of Beach Krew all you want, fuck you can even beat me if you can, but it still won’t make you relevant again. Let’s say you beat me, and go on and win the World Title again, what are you going to do, make THAT title irrelevant too?

You see, Joey. You WERE the man at one time. But that time is gone. You live and die by wins and losses, whereas I live or die by who I am and how I fight in the ring and at home. I am deep with multiple layers. I fight to live and live to fight. You fight to win and win at fights. If that’s the type of man you want to be then more power to you, but accept this fact. Accept it then move forward with your life.

Uncle Egg
“Be subtle, even to the point of formlessness.”

Livewire
Be formless, shapeless, like water. People fight in different ways. You wanna brawl, Joey. I’ll throw down with you. You wanna get technical; I’ll break your back with the Victory March. You put water into a cup, it becomes the cup; you put water in a bottle, it becomes the bottle; you put water in a teapot it becomes the teapot. The water can flow. The water can CRASH. I’m going to be water, Joey.

I’ll put out your fire. I’ll soothe your thirst. I’ll beat you this week Joey. There’s no doubt in my mind that this week is mine. I would normally say to bring your best, because I’m going to bring mine, but we know what you’re going to do. You’re going to treat this like any other match, but it isn’t any other match. You’ve beaten Gemini Battle, but you’ve never beaten Grayson Pierce, the Livewire. I’ve been wrecking this place since before you even knew it existed. I’ve been counted out in this match already. You’re going the kill this fuccboi, right? I’m a retard, right?

Well, how’s it going to feel when this fuccboi retard hands your balls to you on a platter? You best check your words before you speak, boy. Because you’re going to look like a damned fool after this week.

---

The Mysterious Case of the Lost Soldier


The snow was melting oddly fast and he felt like he missed out on it.

It’s funny. He wanted to build a snowman, but there just wasn’t enough snow left in his backyard to do so. Just last week he was cursing the weather, defying the fact that he was going to have to shovel his car out and relishing the warm cocoa his wife would periodically send to his study.

The very same study where he would constantly think sit and think about what he could do to help make ends meet. Think of any possibility, things to cut out, or changes to make so he wouldn’t have to worry about money and simply worry about moving forward and growing his career. The last thing he needed was a distraction… not now.

He hated to do it, but he was going to have to ask for help.

He picked up his cell phone and scrolled down to C. He dialed his best friend and listened to the phone ring.

Cliff was a personal Trainer and a music teacher. He did everything that he felt passionate about and made a hell of a living doing it. He was living a lavish lifestyle going out, meeting honeys and bagging digits as often as he wanted. He had money, and always offered to help out Pierce and Kat, and Grayson always let his pride get in the way and refused… but he was finally swallowing his pride and giving in.

His phone didn’t ring, but played music. DMX ‘Lose My Mind’ specifically. Then suddenly he picked up.

Cliff
What’s up!

Grayson
He man… how you do…

Cliff
Just messin, not here right now. Leave a message and I’ll call you back.

Fuck him and his outdated answering machine message. It got him every time. What is this, 2005? He was going to curse him out on the message, as he normally did. But he wasn’t able to as the female robotic voice said.

Voice
The mailbox you are trying to reach is full. Goodbye!

Fuck her!

This was very disconcerting to him as Cliff was always sure to check his voicemail as aside from the ladies, he was constantly getting calls from clients from the gym and the music shop alike. He always made sure to get back to everyone in a timely fashion and considering that most modern mailboxes delete heard messages within a week this means that he wasn’t even checking them.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard form Cliff in a couple of weeks. This wasn’t uncommon as both led hectic lives, but it made him, if nothing else, seem like a bad friend. The only reason he wouldn’t be picking up his phone is if he was in trouble.

In another vain effort to seem like a good friend he called his Mom’s house. She picked up on the second ring, but was unable to offer any information, voicing grievous concerns. Cliff, though a consummate ladies’ man was even more so a Mama’s boy. He called every day and had dinner with her and his father and sister every Sunday. It was a glorious family tradition that Grayson used to take advantage of when he was younger, and he actually missed a bit.

So getting off the phone with her and hearing the fear in her voice left him even more concerned. He called his sister, no word to her either. There was only one more person to call; their friend Matt, who was the Sergeant at a Long Island Police Station.

Matt

Hey, Gray… what’s up?

Grayson explained the situation to Matt. He explained not being able to find his friend… rather their friend, and that they hadn’t heard from him in weeks. Matt hadn’t heard from him either, which was less odd than all as he worked crazier hours than Gray and Cliff combined. But everything still rang odd.

Matt
You have a key to his house, right?

Grayson
Yea, I was there recently, I actually cut a… never mind. I was there but I didn’t see anything odd.

Matt
You cut what?

Grayson
Wrestling thing. I cut a promo in his Florida Room.

Matt
Still doing that, huh?

Grayson hated that Matt looked down on his career choice. He wanted to be a cop since he was in middle school, and he did it, and he wanted to marry his high school sweetheart and he did that too. He felt that everyone should do the same, but if that was true then he would be a Ninja Turtle right now, married to a girl who cheated on him so fuck that stupid idea…

Grayson
Yea… don’t worry about me. What do we do next?

Matt
Should we put out a missing person’s report?

Grayson
I’m not sure, dude. I mean, he’s a grown ass man. But it’s not like him to just peace out and not tell anyone.

Matt
Well you know where my head is at. But you or I can’t put the report in. Only the next of kin.

Grayson
Mama P?

Matt
Should I call her?

Grayson
Nah, man. I should break the news to her.

Matt
Alright… let me know man. This is fucking weird.

Grayson
I know… thanks dude.

The next phone call he was going to have to make was the hardest call he would ever have to make. When his Mother passed away he didn’t have to call anyone, his sister took care of it. When his son died Kat took care of those calls. But there was no one else to make this call. He had to step up and finally give bad news to someone he cared about.

He was over 30 years old, and was so sheltered that he never had to give life changing news to anyone before. Did he truly live such a sheltered life? He pressed the ominous numbers on the screen of his phone, rather than using speed dial. Maybe he was trying to slow down the process, or maybe he was trying to think of any reason not to press the send button.

But none came, and his thumb slowly came down on the green circle with a white silhouette of an old fashioned phone in the center of it. The phone rang once and a frantic woman answered the phone.

Mama P
Cliff?

Grayson
Nah, ma… it’s Gray… we need to talk…

---

Land of Make Believe

Livewire
So let’s play pretend. I’ve spoken a lot of shit the past couple of days and some of it may have been warranted, but I’m not delusional. Some of it may have been a gross over exaggeration of reality to prove a point.

But such is life.

So let’s pretend that everything I said wasn’t true. You’re not scared of me Joey, fine, whatever. What do you have to be afraid of, right? /sarcasm.

You’ve never lost your fire, you’re still putting out your best effort every day and wrestling is your main focus. /sarcasm.

You’re more relevant than ever. You’re indestructible; the best in the company, fuck it, you’re the best in the world. /sarcasm

Meanwhile, I suck. I can hardly lift a can of beans. I can’t tell my asshole from my elbow. I am useless and meaningless. Everything that has happened to me I deserved and I didn’t learn from any of my heartaches. /sarcasm

Let’s pretend all of that is true. There’s one thing that cannot be denied. Not even you can pretend that this doesn’t exist. You are obsessed with Dune. And you are distracted from our match. This is stupid, Joey. This is an ignorant way to step into this match, and personally I find it insulting.

Not that this matters to you.

You don’t give a shit about anyone or anything… except Dune that is. All you can focus on is Dune, like Jan from the Brady bunch, all you can THINK about is DUNE. DUNE, DUNE, DUNE!

You know what Joey, I’m’ not going to say that this will be your downfall because that’s too fucking easy. That’s kid talk. Everyone knows that if you don’t focus your energy somewhere healthy that not only will it be the reason that you lose this week but it will be the death of you, perhaps literally. Let Howard Black and Occulo face Dune this time. They’re trying to be his savior; maybe they will save him, though Scarecrow seems to think differently, can you really trust a McMorris? Regardless of whether o not their efforts are futile or not you have to let them be. You had your turn, let someone else have a turn, bro.

That’s not going to happen because this is way past fanaticism… this is complete obsession!

So…

What I am going to request of you is to look in my eyes. I want you to look at me and see the man that murdered your child. I want you to see the man that makes the hate resonate out your soul. I don’t want you to see the man you’ve fought a thousand times and are tired of meeting in the ring. And I don’t want you to think that this is going to be a cakewalk.

When you look at me, I want you to see DUNE!

Because I’m going to beat you this week. I’m going to make an example out of you. I’m going to show everyone in the fed that Joey Flash is beatable. I’m going to show everyone watching at home that dreams really do come true, and that hard work, and dedication and passion really are the deciding factors. I think you know it too. I think you realize after these past few days that you are outmatched this week, and that’s why you’re distracting yourself with irrelevance. That’s why you’re focusing more on Dune than you are on me.

When this match is over… when Fifteen is over you’re going to make excuses that Dune was on your mind and you couldn’t really focus on me. You’re going to find any pretext you can to explain away the loss, and try to make it seem like it didn’t happen. To you it won’t be because I was better, it will be because you just weren’t yourself.

Because you may be obsessed with Dune, but I, Joey, am obsessed with YOU.

There are 1,025,109 words in the English language and not a single one of them can describe how much I want to win this week at Fifteen Joey. I’m tired of being overlooked. I’m tired of bitches like Katherine Phoenix fucking with my pay, and forcing stupid fucking traveling partners on me. I’m tired of BeachKrew asserting their strength in numbers in a vain attempt to make themselves appear stronger. I’m tired of Seth Lerch lying to everyone in the company to keep his pockets full, and I’m tired of you disrespecting me.

I’m tired of you treating this match like you have it in the bag, like you don’t even have to try because I’ve already proved time and time again that I belong in the spot where I am. I worked my way up from the bottom to earn the Trio’s Title, to pin Odin Balfore, to beat Jonny Fly and Steve Orbit, to win that tournament over your makeshift ‘super team.’

I eliminated the most competitors in War history. I defeated men bigger than me; I’ve defeated men smaller than me… I’ve defeated Dune. I’ve done everything that I have to do to make my way up here into this spot where I’m a victory away from getting that rematch for the world title that I so desperately desire. I’ve done everything that has been asked of me and more and even with your heart on your sleeve you refused to notice it.

I don’t have anything to prove to you, Joey. I know you deserve to be where you are. I know that you’ve worked hard to get where you are, but I have too. I know that I deserve to be here, and it doesn’t matter what the naïve masses that run the locker room think. I will be treated as a champion. I will BE a champion. It starts with defeating you and ends with the belt around my waist.

This week we step into one of the greatest wrestling cities in the world. Philadelphia, where small companies become nationwide sensations, and where nationwide sensations become worldwide phenomena. This week a small relative unknown soldier in Grayson Pierce steps into the ring against the world, and when he burns the world to the ground and comes out standing on the smoldering remains of what everyone thought was possible the world will have no choice but to give him…

RESPECT!