A Wrestle Show

Saturday, July 20th

A few hours from Evansville, IN

For about eleven, no, twelve seconds I felt regret for how I’d left things with Scotty. A knee jerk reaction, perhaps, to feeling butthurt about not beating that uncharismatic little bitch MJ Flair. It wasn’t Scotty’s fault. But fuck Scotty. Literally couldn’t give a fuck about him and let’s be honest, he’ll be the first one eliminated from our team. Probably the first one eliminated from the match. 

After almost breaking my hand on an innocent, not dangerous, locker..I’d decided to hit the road to clear my head. Staying on the move prevents you from being left with your own thoughts. To a degree at least. I’m still cooped up in a, rented, Toyota Rav4, travelling over a thousand miles towards Indiana, with the intention of running into Halitosis. This enigmatic figure had impressed the world by coming from the small time indie scene to running through a World title title tournament, knocking off former champions and Hall of Famers to win the biggest prize of them all. It’s impressive, and I had no doubt that he would be a valuable ally in helping me win War Games. However, I knew nothing about him. I needed to know what makes him tick. What sort of personality he was. I don’t want any surprises once I’m on the battlefield, there just simply isn’t any room for them. 

Another advantage of driving so much, was that I couldn’t, even by accident, watch another mind numbingly boring promo by the Best Alliance crew. Don’t get me wrong, I used to find them intriguing characters. But they just stay the same. They’re bad-asses, and that’s pretty much it. They’re wealthy. They’re successful. They’re talented. It’s almost like they’re afraid to show us any weakness. Because they don’t have any, right? They’re perfect. No, wait, Eric Dane has a concussion…although, that’s a physical weakness. It doesn’t really change who he is or have any bearing on his chances at War Games. He’ll still pull the strings of all the BA members and float around the room like a social butterfly. Dan Ryan will still try desperately to pluck something out of our promo’s with a pathetic attempt of a counter punch. MJ Flair will  resume her love affair with fucking Kevin, which leaves me colder than any dose of heroin ever could. Of course, there might be a minute or so of something actually fucking relevant in there, but by the time you get to it you’ve completely switched off and given up hope. And Lindsay..

Nah I’d never say anything bad about Lindsay. Who can? 

Have I forgotten someone?

Nope.

Anyway..

I’d stopped over once, in Jacksonville. Over twenty years of travelling around the States had left me with a good mental log of all the best places to sleep, shit, piss, eat and train. It might seem a bit overkill to go trekking all this way just to meet with someone, but I just needed to keep moving. I didn’t like where my head was at when I was alone in my apartment or on my boat. I was becoming paranoid, overthinking shit and I feared it wouldn’t be long before I was hitting up my dealer for a quick fix. 

The more I drove the more I began to think about why I still did this. When you’re young and starting out in this business, you’re fixated on winning titles. You feel that’s how you build your legacy and that you’ll be remembered by your successes on the championship front. But that’s only part of it. As you get older, you start to realise that what the fans really remember, are the big matches. The money matches. Matches involving two big names that put on one of the greatest spectacles a wrestling fan can witness. 

Names like Lindsay Troy and Dan Ryan are always on the tips of people’s tongues, at least in my experience. You always hope that you will cross paths with some of these names so that you can have the opportunity to make history, and now we have that opportunity at War Games. It was one of the key reasons why I chose to fight with the HOW old guard. It’s an opportunity to face somebody new. Somebody different. It’s a chance to put my own legendary status on the line as I battle with other legends and prove my worth at a time when even I question whether I can still hold my own.  

Lee has lost interest in the old guard. The writing is on the wall. Only the likes of Eric Dane, Lindsay Troy, MJ Flair, Dan Ryan and Jack Harman can get his dick hard these days. To me, they’re a cancer. They’ll pollute the #970000 blood of our company, spreading their circle jerking poison through its veins and into the heart, where they’ll take over the spotlight and shit all over the legends who have kept it alive. 

But I won’t let that happen. 

 

Saturday, July 20th

The Ford Center

Evansville, IN

Missouri Valley Wrestling House Show

 

Post Show..

Backstage, in one of the Ford Center’s corridors, HOW veteran John Sektor can be seen angrily scrolling through his phone, glaring down at it as though it had just insulted his manhood. His hair flows naturally to his shoulders, shiny and conditioned as it meets his broad shoulders. His crystal white t-shirt clings to his chest and muscles like spray paint, tucked into his equally tight black jeans. A low mumbling of voices can be heard coming from elsewhere in the building as Sektor slaps the phone against his ear and began to pace around a small circumference on the polished, tiled, floor. 

John Sektor: “Get me Lee. NOW!” he orders, breathing heavily through his nose. “Fuck off, Mindy. Don’t give me that bullshit. I know he’s there. You’re probably cupping his balls as we speak!……Just put him on the phone!….No I don’t want to give him a message, I want him to hear how fucking serious I am about this bullshit!…..Look, I wan’t to know where the fuck he thinks he gets off, making High Flyer the highest paid fucking wrestler on the roster…NO, shut up, I don’t wanna hear it…Shut your dirty, diseased, little glory hole for two fucking seconds and listen! I will not stand for this bullshit any longer. I don’t care what that cock sucker has done somewhere else. I don’t care what any of them have done, because they’ve all done jack shit in HOW! That’s how it’s always been! You come to HOW, you’re a fucking nobody until you earn shit. Lee seems to have abandoned every single one of his fucking morals, well I’m not gonna stand for it! So you tell him this for me. After War Games, I’m gonna kick his fucking door down and demand that he pays me more than that prick makes, out of fucking PRINICPAL!

Sektor’s face suddenly contorts with confusion as he moves the phone away from his ear, gazing at it quickly before returning it to his to his lug hole. 

Sektor: “Hello? FUCK!” he says, squeezing the phone in his hand, causing it to make a sickening cracking sound, before he stops himself from fucking it completely. “Little slut. How dare she hang up on me,” he mutters under his breath. 

Closing his eyes, the Gold Standard, falls back against a standing wall and anchors himself by placing the flat part of his left foot on the wall. His head arches back and makes a low thumping sound as it meets it.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that there John Sektor?”

Sektor’s head rolls to his left as his eyes fire open to see who mentions his name. He then makes the face of someone who has just stood in a steaming pile of dog shit as he realises who it is.

Ray McAVay. 

McVay, former HOW World and Icon champion, as well as a winner of War Games, approaches him, smiling ear to ear. He’s wearing a typically loud red shirt, scattered with white lily’s. His salt and pepper hair is slicked back like a news anchor. 

McAvay: “As I live and breath, it is you! I almost didn’t believe it when they told me you were here. Put’er there!”

Ray holds his hand out, genuinely pleased to be standing in front of Sektor, who looks at his hand as though it’s booby trapped. After an awkward moment of hesitation, Sektor shakes his hand, which revitalises a fading smile on the face of McVay. 

Sektor: “If it isn’t Tin Cup,” Sektor replies, less than enthusiastic as always and watching him out of the corner of his eye as he finishes shaking his hand. “That was a good match you had out there.”

McAvay: “Why thank you,” he happily replies, practically bowing to the praise. “So what brings you to our little stomping ground, John?”

Sektor curls his mouth, trying to think of an answer which will spark the fastest trail towards the end of their meeting. Stooping to the depths of sarcasm, he begins his verbal journey to a speedy exit.

Sektor: “Uhm..I like wrestling? There was a wrestling show here.”

McVay raises a single eyebrow, continuing to smile but obviously caught off guard by Sektor’s sarcasm.

McAvay: “Well, it’s nice to know you’re not above what we do here.”

Sektor: “Not at all. I still remember wrestling in places like this. Some of my happiest memories were in front of crowds even smaller than that,” he explains with surprising amount of sincerity. “And there was some quality wrestling out there. Its clear to see where Hal learned his trade.” 

McAvay: “Hal? Oh yes, of course, Halitosis. Wait a minute,” he pauses, the shit eating grin making its return. “You haven’t come all this way to see Halitosis, have you?”  

Sektor shrugs his shoulders with a ‘fuck it’ demeanor. 

Sektor: “Pretty much. I haven’t got anything better to do. What’s it to you?”

McAvay defensively show’s Sektor the white palms of his otherwise ‘golf tan’ hands. 

McAvay: “Hey, it makes sense, I guess. You and he are teaming at War Games, right?”

Before Sektor can answer, he finds his personal space being defiled by McVay’s arm suddenly beginning to wrap itself around his shoulders.

McAvay: “But you know, If you need some advice for War Games?” 

The combination of the physical contact an McVay’s smug demeanor is enough for Sektor’s face to once again look like a bulldog chewing a wasp. 

McAvay: “Then who better to come to, than a former winner. Am I right?” 

Sektor’s orange eyes burned like fire as he pauses, holding his breath as he glares a hole through McVay. 

Sektor: “No. You’re not fucking right. You think I need War Games advice from you?” 

McAvay: “Woah, WOAH! Calm down, always so hot tempered,” he sings, moving his arm away as Sektor angrily shrugs it off. “I’m just giving you an opportunity to bend my ear, because I’ve actually won it, and you haven’t.” 

Sektor: “Are you trying to antagonise me?”

McAvay’s face is as serious as it has been.

McAvay: No..”

Sektor: “Then why the, fuck, would I want advice from someone who obviously can’t cut it in the big leagues any more, so instead settles for the cheap pops in the minors?”

McAvay, remaining calm, rolls his eyes and chuckles.

McAvay: “Sektor…baby, there’s no need for any of that. I choose to wrestle here, because there’s no drama, or politics..”

Sektor: “No money either..”

McAvay: “There’s other ways of making money, John-boy. This is where I come for fun. You should learn what that word means some time.”

Sektor holds up a hand and lowers his gaze to the ground, trying to restrain his urges to blow up. 

Sektor: “Look, I got a Hall of Fame ring that says I’m better than you,” he begins, flipping his hand over to reveal the ring to McAvay. “So I don’t need your fucking advice, you patronising little prick.”

McAvay continues to smile calmly, annoyingly unoffended by Sektor’s comments. 

McAvay: “Look, John, I can tell you’re not in the mood tonight so I’m gonna get out of your hair. Good luck at War Games, buddy. I’m sure you’ll KNOCK IT OUT THE PARK!” he laughs, swinging an imaginary golf club. 

A cheeky wink from the former War Games winner was enough for Sektor’s eye to twitch. He watched as he walked away down the corridor, muttering something under his breath. 

“Mister Sektor..”

Sektor turns sharply, eyes remaining incensed as they study who it is calling his name. His eyes relaxed slightly as he realised it was the masked figure of Halitosis, who he had come all this way to meet with, followed by his manager Jackson C. Horne. 

Horne: “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” he said earnestly enough, not giving Sektor a choice as he grabbed his right hand with both of his and began vigorously shaking. “I believe you haven’t been formerly introduced to..Halitosis,” continued Horne, seemingly struggling to spit out his clients name. 

Halitosis politely extends his hand in Sektor’s direction, smiling softly. 

Halitosis: “It’s truly an honour to meet you, Sektor.”

Sektor was taken back by the humility of the masked man standing before him, almost cracking a smile as though he’s felt his heart beat with warmth for the first time in years. He gladly shakes his hand but keeps his face stern and true to his character. 

Sektor: “I’ve been impressed with how quickly you’ve acclimatised yourself to our company, kid. That Cinderella run to the World title was certainly something,” he replies, seemingly genuine. “Though, I gotta say, I don’t think much of your gimmick.” 

Sektor looks the former World champion up and down, shaking his head with disgust at what he sees standing before him. Horne lets out a wheezy laugh. 

Horne: “Oh God, we can agree on that alright. I mean..”

Sektor: “You can leave now!” interrupts the Gold Standard, sharply and abruptly. 

Horne frowns, gasping and caught off guard by Sektor’s dismissal. 

Horne: “Excuse me?” he politely replies. 

Sektor: “You heard me. You did your job. You introduced us. We don’t need you standing here like a cuckold. Now, fuck off..”

Sektor brushes him away with his hand like dust whilst Horne cocks his head to the side, not known quite how to handle this situation. Halitosis just awkwardly flicks his eyes back and forth between the pair of them, as though he’s watching a tennis match. 

Horne: “Mr Sektor, I don’t think you understand. You’re here to see MY client on a matter of business. Therefore, I have every right to be involved in any discussions you wish to have. Because I’m his MAN-A-GER!”

Sektor smirks, pushing his tongue into the inside of his cheek, surprised by the gall of Horne. 

Sektor: “Oh I know exactly what you are. You’re a fucking leach. A parasite. Who will suck the fucking life out of this poor bastard until there’s nothing left.”

Horne: “That’s not true, I..”

Sektor: “So you didn’t call him a ‘nondescript wrestler with mediocre talent’?” 

Hornes eyes blink awkwardly, as do Halitosis’. 

Horne: “Well, I..”

Sektor: “You didn’t refer to him as a ‘career mid-carder’? You didn’t pray that Hollywood would beat him in the World title tournament?”

Horne laughs awkwardly. 

Horne: “We all make mistakes, Mr Sektor, you should know that..”

Sektor: “No, you’re a fucking cockroach!” he barks, pointing a stern finger in his face. 

Halitosis awkwardly clears his throat as Sektor intensely glares at the manager, who gawks back at him in stunned disbelief. 

Halitosis: “Maybe you could just give us a few moments, Jackson. What harm could it do?”

Horne takes a second to react, before nodding, clearly embarrassed by the situation which has unfolded. He quietly turns and leaves without uttering a further word. Sektor sneers at him with absolute disdain, regarding him with eyes that yearn to rip him apart, limb from limb. 

Sektor: “I fucking hate managers,” he growls, spitting down at the spot where Horne was stood. 

Sektor turns to Halitosis, making firm eye contact as he points in the direction where Horne left. 

Sektor: “You don’t need him, kid. He’ll fucking ruin you!”

Halitosis: “He and Ms McGill have been very good to me. I wouldn’t be where I am now if it wasn’t for them. I’d still be wrestling in places like this..”

He gestures around the bleak hallway of the Ford Centre, but smiling as he still obviously holds a strong affection for it. 

Sektor: “Sure, they got you through the door in HOW. But you’ve made your own name, now. Winning that World title, as short lived as it was, means that you’ve arrived! You don’t need them any more.”

Hal shifts uneasily on the spot. 

Sektor: “Now we’re going to War,” he continues, lowering his head but keeping eye contact. “War Games is unlike anything you have ever experienced. And unlike anything you’ll ever likely experience.”

Halitosis: “Oh, believe me, I’m under no illusions as to the horrors which await me when I enter that cell.”

Sektor: “You don’t know the half of it. You need to be your own man when you get in there, not a puppet of some cunt in a suit. Your talents got you to that World title, but people didn’t pay you the attention you deserve. Max figured you out. That’s why he beat your ass the second time of asking. I fucking guarantee you that Dane will make sure the rest of the those num-nuts know excactly what it is they need to do to eliminate you from War Games. I need a killer beside me there kid. Not some..”

Halitosis: Excuse me..”

Sektor chokes on his last word as the masked man abruptly cuts him off mid sentence. 

Halitosis: “I mean no disrespect. But,” he continues with a pause. “I was under the impression that you wanted to see me to talk tactics. Or to perhaps train with me. But if you’ve come here to patronise me..”

Sektor: “Wait, what? Patronise you? I’m not here to patronise you. Kid, you got it all wrong I..”

Halitosis: “Stop calling me kid,” he says calmly, but assertively. “And I should hope not. Correct me if I’m wrong but, aren’t I number one contender to the World title in the rankings?”

Sektor frowns, looking side to side and wondering where he’s going with this. 

Halitosis: “And where are you? Behind Darin Zion?”

Sektor: “WOAH!”

Sektor is physically shocked by the sudden shade thrown in his direction by the up and coming star before him. 

Halitosis: “Maybe you should be taking advice from me..”

Sektor: “Now listen..”

Halitosis: “No you listen. I’ll do my best at War Games. I’ll fight for the team and I’ll have your back when I can. I have a ton of respect for you Mr Sektor, and I know full well that I’m a minnow heading into a tank filled with sharks. But I am more than ready to hold my own. Perhaps you should focus on yourself.”

Sektor remains silent, regarding Halitosis with a stern expression. Eventually he nods, seeming to understand where Halitosis is coming from. 

Halitosis: “Good night, Sektor. I hope you have a safe journey.”

With that, halitosis turns and leaves. Sektor watches him leave, stunned into silence by the way things escalated. 

Sektor: “You’re on a fucking roll, Sek..” he whispers under his breath. 

I was beginning to wonder whether this whole trip was a waste of fucking time. I already had my doubts that any of us could actually co-exist in any kind of capacity. Any hope of functioning as well as the Best Alliance were disappearing fast. I had gotten my answer though. Halitosis was already sizing up HOW, and I can tell in those few short minutes that he had a better grasp on how our world works than any member of the BA could ever hope to. It’s a world unlike no other. These are just words to the BA. They think we’re all just blowing our own trumpet and sounding the HOW horn. They’ll soon know what we mean, what we’ve been talking about since they arrived. They are about to compete against five of the most unique and strangest individuals they will ever likely come up against. They will dismiss that notion instantly. Perhaps mock that they’ve faced all kinds of colourful individuals with weird and wonderful gimmicks. 

But I’m not talking about gimmicks.

Now, time to head back south to Florida. Tampa to be exact. To be even more precise? 

The Five Time Academy. 

 

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