A new network goes live, and everyone goes batshit crazy.
“We are going to Oklahoma City.”
That is all Clay Byrd said to me when Chaos went off the air. I held my head from where I was attacked by The Board and let out a long sigh.
“More time in Oklahoma sounds absolutely horrible.”
That is all I said but was given an angry look back and a tip of his cowboy hat within seconds. He wasn’t playing around.
Guess I had to stick around this cursed state a little longer and take care of some Highwaymen business. That business was done and the peasants from OCW now know not to mess with us. Clay will take care of it from here, but I did enjoy going a little wild on some wrestlers I have no attachment to. It was like beating on a stuffed animal because there are no repercussions, just good old fashioned letting your anger do the talking.
Did people get hurt?
Sure, and I am certain to lose absolutely no sleep over it.
You mess with one of us, you get beaten by all of us, it is that simple.
So, I guess sticking around Oklahoma for a few days wasn’t too bad.
Things don’t just end because you finally get to leave Oklahoma though. Seriously, I have zero ideas why anyone would live in this ignorant state, but I guess being obsessed with shitty college football can blind people to the horrible life they are living.
I was able to bless them with my presence for longer than anticipated though so hopefully that will give them a few extra days without an Earthquake.
I am the Miracle Man after all.
Now we get into The Board is annoying territory.
I will let everyone know right now that the Tag Team Titles are not going anywhere, it doesn’t matter who I team with from The Highwaymen. If you think tossing us into the Bobbinette Carey BFF love triangle is going to get us to stop watching our prize, then you need to put down the cheap Mexican skunk weed and come back to reality.
It has no effect on us.
It honestly just makes me happy because that match is full of people I either need to beat or need to shut up. It isn’t hard to know who-is-who there but let your feeble minds wander into self-doubt. I am always here for watching people drown themselves and come out the other side as a foil for Scott Stevens.
PWA might be what everyone is talking about but the only thing I am focused on is holding on to these Tag Straps.
Deep Ellum Brewing Company Taproom
“It’s very like you to avoid things.”
Ellis Jackson placed his pint of beer back down on the coaster. I was not sure which beer he was drinking because often I zone out when words start coming out of his condescending mouth. I stared at the beer glass and picked mine up. I knew exactly what I had ordered. The DTX Golden Ale went down smoothly in the hot weather. We had decided to sit at the patio, and it was a nice one at that but even with the shade we sat under you could still feel the dry heat blow across you with every small wind burst.
“Are you listening?”
I looked up from the beer, “huh…what?”
“You are avoiding things.”
I shrugged, “I have no idea what you are talking about. I did your stupid knee exercises in the pool and almost got arrested when I landed one on one of those snot nosed kids. What else do you need?”
Ellis laughed at me and rubbed the water off the outside of his glass, “well…that was great, but I mean where is Jack and that doctor of yours?”
I gritted my teeth not enjoying him smiling at me as he mentally poked me, “why does it matter to you and where is Oleg?”
“Outside making sure no bombs are put in my rental,” he replied nonchalantly like it wasn’t a big deal.
This irked me because I didn’t know Oleg was in town with him. Since Ellis had shown up out of the blue, he had pretty much taken Oleg back. I had no power in stopping that since Ellis had let me use Oleg’s expertise. It annoyed me that I could not control this and at that moment I was so angry I wish Oleg did not find a bomb that was there. “Maybe next time don’t sell weapons to both sides during a war.”
He waved me off, “goods, Steve…I gave them goods. It could be crappy bootleg Marvel movies, or it could be…you know…weapons.”
Ellis nodded slowly, “this isn’t about me, this is about you always avoiding things you cannot handle mentally.”
I rolled my eyes, “Oh yea that is far more important than worrying about being assassinated by the Russians.”
He took another sip of his beer, “I have survived worse, but can your mind survive rejection?”
“What is your point, Ellis?” I responded with an annoyed tone, my voice becoming a tad louder as this conversation was not going the way I had expected.
He smiled as he enjoyed my annoyance, “how can you become the complete wrestler if you cannot accept your flaws? I want to see that knee bust through a wall, not whimper when it is met with a weak stud in the wall.”
I grabbed my beer again and pounded it till it was empty and slammed the glass back on the table staring at Ellis the entire time. The table shook and I was worried the glass would break but thankfully today I was going to have my hand cut open. “Uh huh, so the guy who has not wrestled since 2000 suddenly is in love with the sport again?”
He tapped the rim of his glass, “sometimes you need to take a detour to get back on your path. You should understand that since you went down an odd path after your knee injury. That path has now led you to hide from Rebecca yet all you do is think about her. This is when you need to concentrate on beating people up, especially when one of them broke your ribs.”
I shook my head flabbergasted at his ping ponging from one subject to another. “I have nothing but destruction on my mind for Carey and I AM NOT HIDING FROM REBECCA!”
With that outburst a waiter came over. He fidgeted with his hands looking a tad afraid of me and Ellis especially after I yelled. “Um…sir could you keep your voice down? Some patrons might think a fight is about to break out and as you know…they are all packing.”
Fucking Texas, I thought.
“Sure, sure, tell the yokels we are just having a debate about Dax Prescott, and they will understand,” I said as politely as I could without tipping the table over, breaking the legs off and using one of them to beat the piss out of him.
The waiter nodded and walked away as swiftly as he could. I felt it was because he saw my fake smile twisting into a scowl but maybe I just think I am more intimidating looking then I am. Nah, I am a bad ass SOB.
“Hey, get my buddy here another beer!” Ellis said to the waiter before he could get away. The waiter turned and nodded and continued his escape. “See, I have your best interests at heart.”
I rubbed my forehead and wiped some sweat away that had been accumulating, “such a great guy you are,” I said as sarcastically as possible.
“It was nice to see some fire at least,” he responded, his grin still attempting to dig a whole into my brain. “But as I was saying, if you want to avoid more disappointment that means you can concentrate on not disappointing me.”
It was my turn to laugh. Ellis Jackson was a damn corporate raider turned arms dealer and he thought I cared about disappointing him? When his brother trained me to be a wrestler, he spent a few weeks with me and all he harped on was the knee strikes. His knee strikes when he was an active wrestler were legendary but now, I am not even sure he could bend his knee without it popping and him following that up with an ice regimen. “Yea, can’t fail you, that would be like failing some fat neckbeard watching HOW at home that I have never met nor ever want to meet.”
He shook his head and his smile had finally left, “that was very rude. I have come back to America to help you get over the hump and all you worry about is the Highwaymen and Rebecca.”
“What are you trying to get at here, Ellis? I will let you know right now that when I get a break, I will be right there with Rebecca…”
He interrupted me before I could finish, “and do what?”
I paused because what was I going to do? I seemed to be the object of her anger as the Miracle Medicine began to work but it had been weeks since I had been there because of the wrestling road schedule. That is what I always thought to myself, but I would be lying if it was also a very good excuse. I didn’t want to ever get him that satisfaction though, “anything I have to.”
Ellis shook his head and took another small sip of his beer, “I am sure that’s what you would like to do but we both know that she is better off spending time with the Doctor and Jack. You need to concentrate on doing what we taught you: hurting people.”
I groaned, “I am not a mindless robot, and I can do both if I have to and trust me THAT is what I want to do.”
“And these friends…”
I put my hand up, “you must think you are slick, Ellis. I will ask again…what are you doing here?”
He smiled again, “I have already explained that, Steve. I am wondering when you will see you have ventured down a path you can not navigate. I am here to help you back on the correct path because this isn’t about friends. This isn’t about love. This isn’t about an equal playing field. This is about making money and I see you are wearing the same shorts as yesterday. That means you are failing.”
I leaned back in my chair as I soaked in all the bullshit, he said to me. “I am not going to be controlled ever again, Ellis. If you want to follow me around from show to show you need to understand that the only advice I will take from you is scouting opponents.”
He shook his head and his smile once again faded, “you need to put that knee through everything and be free.”
Finally, the waiter brought my second beer and I grabbed it from his hand and took a big gulp. “Being free, huh?”
“FROM. IT. ALL.”
I pondered that and put the beer to my lips once again.
As soon as the ribs become almost 100%, I am given a shot at some revenge.
I am certain the HOW glory hole wants some herself, but you cannot get emotional about losing a match because you were not good enough. You can promise yourself you have turned a corner and that you learned something in losing but…let’s be real, the only thing that has changed is the number of BFFs you have.
I want to knee through that amazingly chiseled body of yours and break each of your ribs. You cost me my health and in doing so cost us War Games. You are just as despicable at The Board…wait nix that. You are far worse than any member of The Board because at least they don’t pretend to be someone else.
You are a big fat phony.
Every week I roll my eyes when I watch you play glad hand with Scottywood and then bring STRONK a gift of meat. If I wanted to watch a horrible soap opera I would do just that but instead I am forced to watch you make STRONK a caricature and to top it off, you bring Conor Fuse back into the fold.
For fucks sake, Lee Best sure knows how to get under my skin with his annoying booking.
Bobbinette Carey what is your endgame?
Are you going to let STRONK break you in before he breaks another toilet from the rotten meat you gave him?
Are you finally going to use Conor Fuse to get a title around your…heh…shoulder sorry we all know it isn’t fitting around that waist?
I don’t care enough about Scottywood but I am sure you will keep giving him talking points for him to stick up for you.
But HUGE hands.
I would hope that you would have realized that trying to become friends with those stationed above you is becoming tiresome. Unfortunately, that would take you thinking outside the narrow box you live in. Scream your hot takes all you want but that box is so small that it doesn’t escape to anyone’s ears. We just don’t care about your opinions on…well, shit—anything. Being a hall of famer doesn’t give you carte blanche to make everything you say be a whiny complaint about society you have done nothing yourself to fix.
Hell, Carey—if a Klansmen told you he would give you the HOW World Title but all you would have to do is look away from a little ‘hazing,” you would jump (as high as you could) in the air and enthusiastically nod your triple chin and agree.
I hope you realize I am trying to say that you will do anything to become relevant again even sell out to those you hate.
You will do anything to win a title.
But Carey, if you want a belt so bad why not just go take Scotty’s from around his waist and use it for his leash.
You are all about doubling down on an annoying personal trope of yours.
“Oh…hey, you have a title, want to be friends?”
That is what it looks like no matter how you want to explain your dalliance with these morons. This isn’t a match for you to gain momentum for the tag title match, this is a match for you to lose again and lose the little amount of confidence you must have left. I am assuming you have a tiny bit left all from trying to control your BFFs because you certainly shouldn’t have any from your wrestling.
Conor Fuse isn’t saving you.
Ask him how facing me in a Tag Title match goes?
I am serious, ask that bastard how it felt to continually lose to JIles and I in tag title matches? Sure, he has unlimited lives after using a cheat code, but this is a level no matter how many world titles he wins that he cannot and will not clear…ever.
With you as his partner I don’t see that changing.
I am not a bad person, Carey.
Sorry, don’t confuse that with me saying I am a good person.
I fight for my friends.
I fight to help Rebecca come back to reality.
I fight against the injustices that have been tossed at all of us in HOW by The Board.
I would like you to listen very carefully when I say I fight against injustices. I am not all talk, Carey. I do not spend my time talking down to others by them not caring about whatever bullshit woke crusade you are trying to gain points off. I will put my body, my blood, and my mental well being to fight for something I believe in. You hurt me at War Game, and I reckon it was on purpose because you knew you could not beat me but you sure could be a pouty bitch and hurt our chances at winning.
You are as spiteful as you are fake.
I would give you a trophy, but I am certain you have bought one for yourself for every time you finished the Grand Slam at Denny’s.
So shiny like the grease you lap up like water.
I am not a paragon of morality, but I never claim to be. I will do what it takes though so that everyone, even YOU get a fair shake in HOW. I fight to tear down a system that has been created to keep them on the top and us grasping at straws. Us fighting each other for the small piece of cake as they stuff their faces and laugh at us dancing to their horrible tune.
I hate that I must give Jace credit for tossing you in the water, but he had the right idea. I might not be able to toss you in the water, but I can leave you feeling like you are drowning mentally in the deep part of the pool. Nobody will save you at Chaos, Carey and you will realize that you can pretend to be friends with people, but they won’t keep you from failing again.
This Sunday, I will beat you again and at Dead or Alive I will dash any hopes of you winning a title.
I would say it has been a pleasure but that would be a lie.
You disgust me.
Winners Win and Steve Harrison is a bonafide champion and you…well…you are one night away from sleeping your way into The Board.