Die For Me

Die For Me

Posted on August 25, 2023 at 5:12 pm by Jace Parker Davidson

Have you ever had a near-death experience?

I’m sure a majority of you will answer no to that question. I’m also sure that a few of you will shoot your hands into the air to talk about how you were ALMOST hit by a car because you weren’t paying attention. Or that you nearly had a coronary event because Starbucks ran out of that syrupy sweet shit that makes your $20 iced coffee taste like the unwiped asshole of a pumpkin.

No, to truly understand what I’m about to say. To comprehend where I am coming from heading into Chaos 040. You will have had to experience actual death.

Yes, this is HOW and death happens all the fucking time. From Zombie Kostoff to Coffee Can Graystone, all the way to ‘I brought a new body’ Scottywood. Death never seems quite permanent in High Octane Wrestling. And even if death does stick to you, you can reappear as a clone to do Lindsay Troy’s bidding at a discounted price on an inferior network.

The point is… the average person hasn’t experienced death.

You’ve seen your will to live dwindle. You’ve flushed a goldfish or two down the toilet in your time. Maybe you’ve even lost a loved one at some people but you don’t KNOW death itself. You don’t know what it’s like to walk through Hell itself.

I do. I’ve done it twice now.

Being fully aware of your own mortality can be quite liberating. Any illusion that you can do anything you set your mind to goes up in flames. You are no longer that naive 20-year-old who thinks you can jump from rooftop to rooftop because nothing bad will ever happen.

It makes that time clock in your head start ticking away. It makes trivial matters get pushed to the back burner because you know the important issues need to be brought to the forefront. And when I look around at the landscape of HOW I see a lot of trivial.

I look at my father desperately clinging to whatever relationship he has with Bobbinette Carey. I see people like Scott Stevens, Brian Hollywood, Xander Azula, and Darin Zion keep doing the same shit over and over and over again. Unwavering hope of holding the HOW World Championship belt but yet never doing a fucking thing to make that dream a reality.

I see Hall of Famers continue to come back into the fold for one last run. For one last shot of glory only to fall in line with being second or third fiddle to the real talent of this era. I see men who are far past their PRIME continuing to drag their broken bodies to the ring instead of hanging it up and doing literally anything else with their lives.

I see Michael Lee Best making himself the center of attention here in 2023 because he’ll wilt like a flower without the spotlight on him.

None of you know your mortality.

None of you realize that with a snap of a finger, everything you know, want, and work for could end for good.

You’re all invincible in your minds.

Evan Ward will take 12 more piledrivers because medical research has advanced and his body will ultimately heal.

Scott Stevens will continue to mouth off to the wrong people even though he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. That’s because in his head bullets bounce off of him like he’s the main character in the latest DC flop at the box office.

Conor Fuse will chase after Mike Best until the end of time no matter how many knees he takes to the skull. Cause LOL head trauma is just them nerfing his ability in the game and makes the difficulty of this level much more challenging.

But the most heinous of them all is Lee Best.

He will continue to fuck with me and think I won’t get my revenge just because he calls himself GOD and managed to escape Chris Kostoff for two whole decades.

I’ve tested my mortality. I’ve wrestled with the Grim Reaper. I’ve vacationed in the 7th circle of Hell and been cleansed by its fire.

I know what everyone else pretends that will never happen to them.

Most of you look at me, you look at the last few months of my career and you think ‘Jace has lost it.’ You think ‘Jace is a broken individual.’ You whisper that ‘Lee Best has left Jace just a shell of what he used to be.’

And maybe you’re right. Or maybe you’re so very wrong.

I know my mortality and I know given the chance, Lee Best will do everything in his power to snuff out my flame.

That’s why I’m pushing all of the petty bullshit aside.

I’m tossing my priority on holding Championship belts out of the window.

I’m ignoring all distractions and you, Michael, are the biggest distraction of them all.

You’re the sentient screen door that leads to the one important thing. The last thing that I NEED to do before my ticket gets punched for the final time.

You can step aside or I can go through you. Either way, I’m moving past you to your father.

And then?

Lee, you can do me one last big favor to make us square for the first time in a long time.

Die for me.


The Kingdom Training Facility
Denver, Colorado
Saturday, August 26th, 2023

The inside of the training facility was quiet. Even in the middle of the afternoon, no one was here working out or getting treatment. Everything looked clean and practically untouched from the night before. Near the back end of the building, inside one of the wrestling rings stands Jace Parker Davidson. He has a white towel wrapped around his neck from working out earlier in the day. He’s leaned over the top rope of the ring looking out across the space that is his own personal gym and wrestling school.

He remains silent, deep in thought until someone walks inside the building. The sound of footsteps on the floor gets closer and closer until that person reaches the ring where Jace is standing. The person climbs into the ring and then leans over the top rope next to him.

“I thought I would find you here,” Samantha said softly. “You haven’t exactly been talkative since you’ve gotten back from Australia.”

“Sorry about that, wasn’t my intention,” Jace responds with a small sigh. “Just got a lot of things on my mind.”

“That seems to be the case more often than not,” Tolson adds as she cuts her eyes over at him. “Anything you care to share?”

Jace curled his bottom lip and remained silent for a moment before Samantha spoke up.

“Of course, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” She turns to look at him. “It’s just that before you left for Australia you did leave me a note saying you needed time to think about things concerning us.”

“I know, and I have.” Jace turns his head to look at her. “I’ve had tunnel vision for a long fucking time when it comes to my career. From the moment I came out of retirement, I’ve been laser-focused on making every moment I have count. I’ve sacrificed a lot to be able to be standing here to say that I am a professional wrestler. That wasn’t fair to you at all.”

“It’s not like I don’t understand.” She brushes a piece of hair away from her face. “I’m as competitive as they come and I put my everything to make sure that I not only won but that I keep the UPRISING World Championship belt.”

“I know that better than anyone, but the difference is that you still make time for me. For us and I need to do a better job of that.” Jace admits. “It’s awkwardly funny but while I was off in Australia preparing to fight for the HOW World Championship belt. I realize that I had completely forgotten about our first anniversary.”

Samantha folds her arms across her chest but then shrugs her shoulders.

“I don’t find that funny at all.” She said in a stern tone. “But I will forgive you for it. Bringing Abdullah Choi handcuffed and helpless is an anniversary present that I did not expect. It is one that I thoroughly enjoy beating to death though.”

“Fucking Christ. You didn’t kill him, did you?” Jace asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I didn’t kill him,” Samantha says confidently. “Not yet at least. Though, if you’re not going to hand him over to STRONK! then I’d be more than happy to do the honors.”

“Haven’t decided yet,” Jace exhales. “A lot of things are up in the air right now.”

“Are you going to open up or am I going to have to suplex you?” Tolson threatens.

“Do you ever think about what’s after all of this?” Jace looks back out over The Kingdom.

“After what?” Samantha questioned.

“After professional wrestling. What is life like when you’re not long able to compete to a level you find acceptable?” He laces his fingers together. “What does the second half of your life look like without wrestling?”

Samantha took a moment to ponder the question asked before leaning close to him.

“I’ve thought about it before, it’s kind of hard not to when you’ve been doing this for so long.” Samantha began. “I have a picture in my head about how I want to spend the rest of my life. I also realize that things change very quickly. My mindset is that I’m just going to do my best to work toward my goals to where I’m satisfied and comfortable for the rest of my days.”

“I never thought about what happens after professional wrestling.” Jace shakes his head. “Before I even finished High School I was dead set on becoming a professional wrestler. I sacrificed a lot to ride that wave and then I got injured and had to retire. My marriage fell apart, my life was spiraling but even then. All I could think about was coming back to be a professional wrestler again. Five years of tunnel vision on that one thing.”

Samantha places her hand on Jace’s shoulder.

“And here I am, once again a professional wrestler. I was so happy, everything made sense in my life again.” He chuckles slightly. “I had success, I met you, and I got to do all these things that even six months ago I would have told you that there is no life outside of professional wrestling for me. That I would be more than happy to die inside of a wrestling ring doing what I love but…”

Jace bites down on his bottom lip.

“I’m not sure that’s what I want anymore. I don’t know if I am willing to die inside of a professional wrestling ring.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “At the very least, not a HOW wrestling ring.”

“You already know how I feel about HOW and the things you’ve endured while working for that company.” Samantha rubs her hand up and down his back. “I can’t tell you what to do or decide what you want. However, you always have a choice about what to do with your life. You’re only 35 years old not 65. And selfishly, I would prefer you not die in any wrestling ring any time soon.”

“Noted,” Jace says as he pulls himself away from the ropes. “Everyone else has things set up for life after professional wrestling. Nest eggs or different careers in mind. I don’t want to be the guy in his late 50s jobbing out at the bottom of the card of some company just to have enough money to get by.”

Samantha wraps her arms around Jace and hugs him.

“So, then what do YOU want?” She asked as she looked up at him.

“I want this.” He placed his arms around her. “I want to grow old with you, I want this place here to thrive. I want Denver Broncos season tickets for life.”

“One thing at a time.” Samantha laughs. “Besides, you’re not getting Broncos season tickets under you come to plenty of Chiefs games with me.”

“Why’d have to run it by bringing up KC?!” Jace groans. “Now I’m going to suplex you!”

Jace lifts Tolson off of her feet which causes her to scream and laugh. The two start to play-fight in the center of the ring as the scene fades.


You’re right, Michael.

I know those are the words you wanted to hear, so, let’s just get that out of the way.

I’m not even half-chub about the thought of stepping inside the ring against you on Sunday night. And yeah, maybe that’s on me because Jace Parker Davidson vs. Mike Best is without of doubt one of the greatest matches on paper for any wrestling promotion out there.

You won’t hear any argument about that from me.

But see… you’re not looking at the bigger picture here.

I’ve done it before. I’ve faced you before, multiple times. Yes, maybe 2014 JPD is dead and gone but maybe, just maybe, 2014 JPD is bored.

Bored of doing the same matches over and over again. Bored of the same old booking year after year. Bored of you, Michael.

You say that I used to be the man.

Well, as someone who has been the man. Let me tell you, you can only have dry toast for breakfast so many days, weeks, months, and years in a row before you want a goddamn pop-tart.

I look around the HOW roster and I do not see many pop-tarts, SON.

For you… JPD vs. Mike Best #97 is a banger waiting to happen. For me? It’s like watching the same episode of Friends on an endless loop. Eventually, Chandler stops being funny. Eventually, having to dodge a fucking knee becomes fucking mundane.

You think that I should be chasing you and your records. Why?

Because you’re #1 and I’m #2? Because if I were to overtake you my spot on HOW’s Mt. Rushmore would be THAT much different? That my three HOW World Championship reigns would be so much better if they were eleven?

My three reigns were memorable enough to last me a lifetime. I broke last era’s record for longest reign. I won War Games to become Champion. Hell, I pinned YOU in a solitary confinement match to win the title for the first time. Why would I need to win and lose the belt meaninglessly eight more times? What does that accomplish, honestly?

You want to be the first guy that hits twenty HOW World Championship title reigns. Good for you. How is that going to look by reign number fifteen? How does the landscape of HOW look with you being a twenty-time Champion while no one else has hit double digits and some haven’t even had a single legitimate reign?

Is that your idea of fun? Is that what is best for business?

You try and prod me over the fact that YOU beat ME for the LSD Championship belt. YOU didn’t beat me, Michael. Random EPU member #56 beat me, you just took advantage of that fact. And that is how it ALWAYS goes.

It’s easy to say that you don’t give a shit about fighting your father’s battles or about The Final Alliance when you’re been benefitting from the last name Best for how many years now? It doesn’t bother you because you’re privileged, Michael. Lee would never do to you what he’s done to me and others. There will never be an instance in HOW history where Michael Lee Best doesn’t have every single advantage humanly possible inside of a HOW ring.

And that’s the thing. You turn up your nose and tell me to quit. That I should walk away and learn regret because there is nothing out there that even comes close to HOW.

For you… That’s true.

Outside of this company, the last name Best amounts to a hill of beans. You and your father can shit on PRIME and every other ‘Fisher Price’ company out there but THE SON has barely succeeded outside of HOW. Unless you count companies that no longer exist.

So, spare me the Michael Lee Best spin on things.

There is life outside of HOW. There are wrestlers out there that would present new challenges. If HOW was the end all be all then you or I wouldn’t have HOW Hall of Fame rings on our fingers because neither of us has been here since day one.

I’m tired of choking down the Kool-aid. Do you want to shame me for wanting to fight your father? You said it yourself… you’ve spent a good portion of your career against him. Yet, never once did he stab you in the eye or piss on your head on live television. You’ve thrown bitchfits over far less but yet you don’t ‘understand’ why this is personal between him and me?

I understand how your head works, Mike. You’ll never ‘stop eating’ because you’re not fighting anyone other than your own insecurities. You are incapable of taking a step back and looking at the bigger picture. I look at my career and I see a board full of goals already checked off. I’ve won every single belt. I’ve main evented every single major PPV. I won War Games. I won solitary confinement, I’ve won the LBI, I’ve defended two titles in one match in the main event of ICONIC. I’ve beaten or held my own against every single HOW-lifer on this roster.

There are no more dream matches, there are no more firsts for me. There are no records or numbers that will keep me up at night if I don’t achieve them.

What keeps me up at night is the fact that I had to end the life of Narcotic. The image of Chris Kostoff being burned alive is seared into my mind. You want me to care, Michael. I cared more than I ever should have. I stomped out a major piece of HOW history at 97RED in hopes of winning a belt… A FUCKING BELT.

And what do I get for it?

“Pfft, quit whining and fight Mike Best like a man, you pussy!”

None of us would be here today in this company without Narcotic and that is how much you and everyone else cared about that man’s life.

Eight more title reigns won’t make needlessly killing a human being ever worth it and I’m tired of pretending like it does. I’m tired of dealing with the shit your father tries to pull and acting like it’s a-okay.

I am not Scott Stevens.

You can’t stab me in the eye, piss on me on television, and continuously screw me over. Then expect me to just show up week after week and follow orders like a scolded puppy.

Lee Best can’t just ring a little bell and expect me to come running after doing what he did. I have zero fucks about the fact that Lee Best isn’t a professional wrestler. I’m not trying to wristlocks and submission techniques with him in a ‘wrestling classic’ situation.

I’m looking to beat the ever-loving shit out of him because wrestler or not, you don’t do the things he’s done to me and just get away with it.

So, you show up Sunday, you defend that LSD Championship belt. You continue to not give a fuck that he’s the referee for this match.

Me? I’m showing up because Lee is in the match. I’m showing up to take my pound of flesh from the man that wronged me.

You’re just the loud, obnoxious, self-centered distraction he’s thrown in front of me.