- Event: War Games 2023
February 2023. The Grand Hotel, York. Five pints and five whiskies playing hide and seek in your guts. Jobless and boozing. Fat, fucked and pushing fifty, you are in hell. Your last fight was over a year ago. A shameful fiasco in front of no more than 200 baying punters. Ten grand in your pocket. But it won’t last. Jobless and boozing. Not at this rate. Fat and fucked. A husk of a man.
As they descended the steps into the enveloping darkness the distant echos of clashing metal and boisterous cheers grew louder. The air was thick with the pungent scent of sweat and anticipation, an atmosphere that seemed to seep into every crevice of the dimly lit space.
“What the hell are we doing here?”
The flickering lights cast haunting shadows on the faces of the spectators, their eyes gleaming with excitement.
Is this really the summation of a life well lived? A pickled liver, a herniated disc and mounting debts. They were right all along. Well, they were right, and they were wrong. This is no life for a man of your station. But then again, this is no life for anyone. You wouldn’t wish this on your worst enemy.
“We’re here to learn.”
And yet, this is the life you chose. A life that allowed you to forget, if only for a while. A life that brought out the best in you in many ways. Moral courage. Physical bravery. The strength to run through brick walls. It also brought out the worst. The arrogance. The selfishness. The rudeness. But that’s what you needed. And now more than ever. That belief. That faith.
“But… but… this is illegal. Surely? What if we get caught?”
Ultimately, it all boils down to perseverance. Had you done everything in your power to succeed? You’d win some. You’d lose some. You’d disappear. Nursing your wounds and cashing the cheques. But the money never lasted. How could it? Up your nose or down your gullet. Either way, it left you in the same sorry state you’d been in from the start. And then the whole torrid affair would start again. A never-ending cycle of opportunities gained, and opportunities missed. Defeat snatched from the jaws of victory.
“This is something we… I need to witness. If you want to leave, I understand.”
Late nights, bad dreams; nameless men; red eyes and sharpened teeth.
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re done, son. It happens to the best of us. You’ve had a good run. Why not quit while you’re ahead.” AHEAD!? In what conceivable way could you be perceived as being ahead? Twenty-five years you’ve sacrificed for this sport. And what do you have to show for it? Not a family. Not a mortgage. You’ve barely got a pot to piss in. A broken man with a broken body. That’s all you are. Quitting now? Well, it would be the death knell.
“You don’t need to understand. Stay or leave. It’s your choice. But know that I need to see this.”
And so, drunk and desperate, you reach once more for the letter. You squint at its contents, the words zooming in and out of focus.
It has come to our attention that you are at a crossroads in your career.
Well, that went without saying.
And while we are aware that you may not possess the vitality of your younger days…
Flattery will get you everywhere.
…we believe there is still an opportunity for you to bid farewell to your wrestling career on a high note.
Interest piqued you rub your eyes before continuing.
This isn’t a proposition that will secure your financial future or catapult you to new heights, but it does present an opportunity to bow out on your own terms, allowing you to retire with some semblance of dignity.
The chance would be a fine thing.
Thank you for your consideration, Mr. de Lacy. We hope that this opportunity can provide you with the closure and sense of fulfillment you seek as you bring your illustrious career to its graceful conclusion.
Sincerely,
Lee Best
High Octane Wrestling
You fold the letter and place it in your breast pocket. The five pints and the five whiskies remind you of your sorry predicament. You feel your body begin to retch…
“Skree!”
Feathers flew through the air, a fine arc of blood landing at their feet. de Lacy, his face contorted in a mixture of disdain and discomfort, gripped the edge of his seat with whitened fingers.
“Mother of God.”
Marwood, his face a sickly green, turned away.
“Kreeeek!”
The crowd erupted in a chorus of raucous cheers and fervent cries as the birds clashed again.
“This isn’t right. I can’t take any more of this.”
Marwood departed, a hand covering his mouth.
de Lacy couldn’t help but feel a pang of unease in his gut, his gaze fixated on the brutal spectacle before him. The violence, the bloodshed—it went against every fiber of his being. But he also understood that this was a part of the world he had chosen to immerse himself in. A necessary evil, perhaps.
How can I reconcile this brutality with the path I’ve chosen? The War Games loom before me, a battlefield of its own, where the roar of the crowd will be just as thunderous and the thirst for victory just as primal. But can I embrace the violence without losing sight of who I am?
The sight of the wounded birds and the cries of the crowd weighed heavily on de Lacy’s conscience. It was a stark reminder of the sacrifices he was willing to make for success, the compromises he had to endure in the pursuit of his ambitions. The metaphorical implications of the cockfight were not lost on him.
In the end, it all comes down to survival. The rooster fights for dominance, for survival. And I, too, must fight, not only for victory in the ring but also for my own identity, my own integrity. I must navigate this world of violence and aggression while staying true to myself.
As the final match reached its climax, de Lacy felt a surge of conflicting emotions. The brutality of the spectacle clashed with his moral compass, yet a glimmer of determination shone in his eyes. He knew that the upcoming War Games match would demand every ounce of his strength, both physical and mental.
To succeed in the ring, I must find the delicate balance between aggression and grace, between the desire to conquer and the desire to remain true to myself. It’s a battle within, a struggle to maintain my own sense of humanity amidst the chaos.
***
Making his way outside as the crowd dispersed, de Lacy found Marwood on the street corner shivering in spite of the mild spring evening, his face ashen.
“Charles, I don’t see how you can bear to watch such… such… brutality. It’s inhumane,” Marwood said, his voice shaking with disbelief.
De Lacy sighed, his gaze fixed on the ground as he contemplated his response. “I understand your sentiments, Marwood. Believe me, I do. But sometimes, in order to fully comprehend the world we live in, we must confront its darkest aspects. We must immerse ourselves in the shadows to appreciate the light.”
Marwood’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But what does this have to do with your motivations for attending this event? I thought you came here to witness something, to learn. Is this really what you were looking for?”
De Lacy looked up, meeting Marwood’s eyes with a steely determination. “Yes, Marwood, in a way, it is. You see, the life I’ve chosen, the world of professional wrestling, is not all glitz and glamour. Behind the grandeur lies a raw, violent reality. By observing these cockfights, I’m reminded of the sacrifices and compromises I’ve made in my own pursuit of success.”
Marwood’s expression softened somewhat as he began to grasp the underlying meaning behind de Lacy’s motivations. “So, it’s about understanding the sacrifices you’ve made and the darkness that resides within you. But is it worth it, Charles? Is this what you truly want?”
De Lacy paused. “I can’t say for certain, Marwood. Wrestling has been my life, my passion, and my means of survival. It has given me both highs and lows, and in many ways, it has defined who I am. But I must face the truth that the path I’ve chosen has its share of brutality and moral ambiguity.”
He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. “The upcoming War Games match, Marwood, is not just a physical battle. It’s a test of my character, my resilience, and my ability to navigate the fine line between aggression and integrity. It forces me to confront the violence within myself and find a way to channel it without losing sight of who I am.”
Marwood listened intently, his initial disapproval giving way to a growing understanding. “So, in the ring, you must strive for victory, yet maintain your own sense of humanity amidst the chaos?”
De Lacy nodded, determination and uncertainty etched on his face. “Exactly. It’s a delicate balance, one that I must constantly grapple with. And attending events like this, witnessing the brutality and the consequences, reminds me of the stakes at hand. It reminds me of the importance of finding that balance and not losing myself in the pursuit of success.”
“Then again,” de Lacy looked to the heavens. “Perhaps the only way to truly succeed in this business is to abandon any residing sense of decency or fair play.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at my career – if one can even call it that. Twenty-five years of toiling in this industry, giving my all, following the rules, and where has it led me? Nowhere near the level of success I had hoped for,” de Lacy admitted, his voice imbued with bitterness.
He paused once more as if lost in thought. “There’s a darkness within me, Marwood, a violent, sadistic side that I’ve always suppressed. But as I witness the cheaters and the rule-breakers climbing the ladder, achieving glory without consequences, I can’t help but question if it’s time to tap into that side of myself. Perhaps I need to unleash a ferocity I’ve never dared to embrace before.”
Marwood’s eyes widened with concern, his voice filled with worry. “Charles, I understand your frustration, but succumbing to that darkness won’t bring you the satisfaction you seek. It may grant you temporary success, but at what cost? Your integrity, your self-respect, your sanity!?”
De Lacy’s face hardened, his voice growing resolute. “Over the years I’ve been overlooked and overshadowed by those who don’t hesitate to stoop to any level to get ahead. Take the other night in Texas. Picture this: Jatt Star, already conceding defeat at the hands of yours truly, decides to take a jolly swing at me with his trusty cane, and off he goes, sauntering out of the arena without a care in the world, fit as a fiddle and fresh as a daisy for the upcoming War Games. Meanwhile, poor old me, I spend the entire evening in a blasted emergency room, receiving treatment for a suspected concussion.
Now, mind you, they may declare me the victor, bestow upon me the laurels of triumph, but one must ask oneself, who truly emerged triumphant that fateful evening? Maybe it’s time for me to abandon this naive notion of fair play and embrace the ruthless nature of this industry. Maybe it’s the only way to excel, to finally prove myself.”
Marwood shook his head, his voice filled with conviction. “Charles, I believe in you. I’ve seen your talent, your determination, and your ability to rise above the challenges. You don’t need to compromise your values to succeed. Stay true to who you are, and your moment will come.”
de Lacy continued, seemingly oblivious to his friend’s protestations.
“Then there’s that damned America. There are but a handful of chaps in this wide world who possess such an extraordinary knack for rubbing me up the wrong way, a talent that truly boggles the mind. It is a marvel, indeed! The man is a hypocrite of the highest order, and his one-man show of flag-waving theatrics would shame even the most die-hard patriot. However, I begrudgingly admit that his metamorphosis from a skilled technician to a brawling ruffian has yielded remarkable rewards.
Rumor has it that following a rather humbling defeat in his first foray into the War Games, he underwent a most remarkable transformation in his approach, and lo and behold, observe the fruits of his labor! The chap emerges as the sole survivor not once, but twice in succession. It is a feat that simply demands one’s begrudging admiration, like witnessing a rather portly pigeon successfully wrestling a potato chip from a crowd of beleaguered sparrows.”
de Lacy sighed.
“As much as it pains me to say, I feel there is a lot to be learned from the likes of Christopher America and Evan Ward. The fact they’re on my team, well, that might just act in my favour.”
de Lacy was torn between his desire for success and his reluctance to sacrifice his principles. The internal struggle raged within him, but deep down, he knew that finding a way to harness his aggression while maintaining his integrity was the true path to greatness.
Marwood placed a hand on his shoulder, a conciliatory habit that had formed over the last few days in Mexico, offering his support. “Charles, I may not fully comprehend the world you’ve chosen, but I can see the turmoil it puts you through. Just promise me that you won’t lose sight of the person you are, the values you hold dear. Remember, success is not solely defined by victories in the ring.”
De Lacy’s eyes gleamed with gratitude as he nodded, acknowledging Marwood’s words. “Thank you, my friend. Your words are not lost on me, and I promise you, I won’t forget who I am. The battle within me is just as important as the battles I face in the ring.”
But his mind was far from made up.
de Lacy and Marwood departed from the gritty ambiance of the cockfighting venue, their words hanging delicately in the evening breeze. As they ventured forth, the labyrinthine streets of Mexico City unfolded before them, adorned with a kaleidoscope of vivid tones and the intoxicating fragrance of the nearby flower markets. The twilight sky painted a canvas of enchanting hues, as the sun’s dying rays cast a golden glow upon the ornate facades and bustling plazas.
The path that stretched ahead, though fraught with perilous twists and hidden snares, held a seductive allure. Its cobblestones whispered ancient secrets, each step echoing with the echoes of forgotten legends. Amidst this tempestuous journey, de Lacy resolved to confront the shadowy recesses of his own soul, unearthing the buried demons that lurked within. He yearned to grasp victory’s elusive laurels, but at the expense of his very essence? With every stride, he would navigate the treacherous maze, steadfast in his pursuit of triumph, yet determined to remain true to the flickering light of his inner self.
And so, with a heavy heart and a resolute mind, de Lacy prepared himself to step into the arena of the War Games, knowing that he would have to confront not only his opponents but also the inner turmoil that echoed the clash of blades and the cries of the cockfight.