OK here we go!
FFS Harrison, I had this whole plan mapped out and then you threw a bunch of nonsense at me. It’s cool, Imma go with the flow kinda gamer so I’ll start with your comments and then I’ll move onto bigger and better things when I leave you in my wake.
Like I leave everybody else.
None of what you said made sense. You weren’t proud of me because I proved my worth, didn’t cheat and won two World Heavyweight Championships in the process? Did I get that right, bud? Maybe if I did what you did, impressed here and there but never on the highest level possible… you’d be cool with that instead?
I don’t get you. I never have, I never will. You have no brain whatsoever. I’ve jumped on koopa troopas with more A.I.
I promise you, I’ll keep the video game references to a minimum, winky face.
So apparently, according to you, I’m also a fake nice guy. Get bent. I’m a REAL nice guy if you treat me well. Who else in this company would put aside their own egos and go help another person for over three months, in order to find out who’s trying to KILL them? Literally everyone in this mother fucking organization screams “eYe wAnT wOrLd TiTle”. Wrestlers in HOW are off on their own devices. No one has time for anybody. The roster doesn’t give a flying fuck about ACTUALLY building long-lasting friendships. It’s an easy bullet I took, helping Bobbie out. It’s given plenty of other ammo against yours truly, like it’s a bad thing I wanna be supportive.
“Conor Fuse doesn’t have it anymore”.
“Look at him ruining his career, helping BOBBINETTE.”
“What a fall from grace.”
“He’s no longer a main event guy.”
Then I go do something like massacre the nimrod who was trying to kill Bobbie to begin with.
Same shit with Lindsay Troy. It’s something no one gets and you Steve, of all people find yourself in a fucking wrestling stable ATM.
I was happy to help Lindsay out. I was GAME to play second fiddle.
Funny tho how the talent always rises to the final levels, eh Steve.
I outlasted every one of Lindsay’s HANDPICKED team at WarGames. By joining that annoying self-centered queen, I catapulted myself to the main event title picture while the rest of them withered away as reality struck. They weren’t that good.
Hey ya know what? Maybe right now I DON’T want to be in the main event. Maybe right now it’s NOT Conor Fuse’s time in the last level, roaming through the big castle.
I can play without the rock in my hands, the puck on my stick or a pass being thrown my way.
Because Harrison, when the rock DOES come my way or the pass IS thrown to me, I won’t drop it, I’ll be ready.
I proved my worth many times over, walking through an entire tournament of champions LAST Iconic. And I’ll do it again, when it’s my time.
I can take a back seat. I can help a friend out.
I can actually be selfless.
You, Steve… you can’t. Yeah, you’ve got your own makeshift group but it really doesn’t do a whole hell of a lot for me. When you and I (and the rest of us) had an opportunity to work together at WarGames, to go against the Best Alliance/Board, y’all decided to keep your egos up and your dicks in hand.
I was willing to do what was needed.
I would’ve put EVERYTHING aside.
Did I draft well? Did it matter!? It was my World Title to defend and lose.
You get to the last level, then YOU can make the calls.
But you can’t make the calls. Because you’ve never become World Champion.
You dickwads walked away from me like you were the ones that deserved to play with controller one.
Naa, not in my game ya don’t.
Every fucking point you make against me is utter dribble. I took HOFC as a joke? No I fucking didn’t. I may have made jokes at the expense of others but I certainly know when trash talk is appropriate. And nobody took to heart their HOFC loss more than I did.
‘Cause look what happened after the fighting tournament. Look how much I PROGRESSED.
There’s a time and a place for everything, Harrison. I will never shoehorn myself into a situation that doesn’t demand it. If somebody says to me “IT’S TIME TO HOFC” and the situation is not right…
I’ll tell them to snap their dick in half and go find someone else who will scream “HOW HIGH?” when told to jump.
I will never act out of line. I do what’s needed when it IS needed.
So go fuck yourself, I “took HOFC as a joke”. You know who took that shit as a joke?
Perhaps if I found myself on the end of a Lee Best backhanded slap in the center of the ring trying to act tOuGh ‘n bAdaSS, I, too, could’ve been sucking on sour grapes for years.
I digress, in hindsight I shouldn’t have brought up that emasculating incident but you dropped Eric Dane, which is ultimately the lowest hanging fruit possible and so 2020.
I get it, dude. He didn’t wanna wrestle The Video Game Kid. I’m extremely tired of hearing this. Can’t wait for the next nutsack to bring it up like “oOoOoOoO SHIT, I got him good! I popped the boys! Man, what an off the cuff comment!!”
Eric Dane was a fat old prick, with sagging tits who got the sads because I could display a funny side…
And kick his ass at the same time.
Maybe I’ll pretend you’re him. You can cosplay Dane at ICONIC and I will finally show the world what I would’ve done to that sandbagging pigshit sloth.
You see, people don’t like when Conor Fuse shows he is MOAR than meets the eye, lol. I can be funny. Cute. Clever. Damn right I can be an annoying walking manchild, too. Trust me, I live in my own head 24/7. I drive myself batshit insane. At the end of the day, Imma whole bunch of things, Steve. Silly. Hilarious. Punchable. Also World Champion, Locker Room Leader, murderer and someone you can ALWAYS rely on to bring it inside the squared circle.
So this is quaint little adorable me. WTF are you?
Oh right! I almost forgot. I can also steal people’s moves! It’s another endearing thing I do here and there but the reality is if you’re in the ring with me it isn’t actually endearing at all. Because I STUDY what I am gonna pilfer. Really study. As if it’s an exam or something. Finetune. Gotta Weapon Get good, ya know? There’s a method behind my madness.
I perfect the move. I hit it flush.
And I pin your ass, castrating you in the process.
Go see how serious I took maneuver stealing when I won my first 97. Dipshit angry mamma’s boy with the daddy-ghost-seeing complex hasn’t come back since.
See, there’s all sorts of things that make Conor Fuse a very complex Level 8 character, and you a muddling, pretty decent but also nowhere near my skills kinda n00b. I am all of the things I’ve previously talked about and I also can be serious, vengeful and someone you don’t want to cross.
May I point you in the direction of the LAST Rumble at the Rock?
Steve, unlike you I EVOLVE. I level-up, push myself to go beyond the same person week in and week out. From two years ago, where I lost at the hands of Jatt Starr… to being devastated as I lost the World Title to Mike Best a year later…
To (probably, lol) murdering the guy everyone says was “wrestler of the year”.
Get this: I took “wrestler of the year” and I made him phone in his knock ‘em down, drag ‘em out fight versus The Ultimate Gamer because he finally got the memo and realized…
I’m a goofy, serious, ENRAGED moron who no one should enter the squared circle with.
You should be so happy we’re having this match, Steve. You’re becoming relevant!
…Instead of hiding in my shadows.
I will say this. You’re right on one thing. This match between us should’ve happened a long time ago. We really don’t have a lot in common, we don’t exactly hold a specific reason to go at each other. The only facts that make this match sexy is we started at approximately the same time and we’ve avoided each other for so long it THEN became this ‘thing’ the fans wanted to see.
Doesn’t mean it’s gonna be a good one.
But thank you for proving ONE thing to me in your rambling on about this magnificent gamer.
That you’ve followed my every move. Christ man, you just spent a ton of your mic time going over every level Conor Fuse has played. My achievements, my downfalls, even a tiny Easter egg snippet of DEFIANCE (Hi Mikey Unlikely! Hi Malak Garland!). Nifty! Gosh golly, it’s a nice in-depth recap down memory lane. Can you write my autobiography or give my HOW HoF induction speech?
Can’t say I could do the same for you.
While I trailblazed, you did… well, I dunno absolutely everything you did. I wasn’t paying AS MUCH attention. It also doesn’t seem like good use of my own mic time, ya know? Steve, I watched you defeat Arthur Pleasant so that was kinda cool. Congrats. I’m sure you faced Scott Stevens a time or two but don’t quote me on it. I faced Stevens a lot. NOT BY CHOICE, of course. I’d have killed to face you over him. He’s a wash, it was easy.
I never enjoy playing on easy!
I dunno if you need to hear this, Harrison but I am not GOD and I don’t get an exact say in every match I receive.
Why on earth would a returning Lee Best want to pit World Champion Conor Fuse vs. Steve Harrison since we both opposed him and he wants the title on HIS guys???
I mean now that I’m title-less it’s fair game ‘cause who gives AF right but back then…
I never avoided you.
Eh, whatever you wanna tell yourself to sleep at night.
You called me a Paper Champion. YOU SAID THIS. And yet you failed to recap I beat your “fearless leader” Clay Byrd. So WTF are you insinuating about Clay?
Like, you’re good, Steve. Not with your words good but you’re good inside of a wrestling ring. Otherwise you’re an idiot lol but you’re a talented wrestler and our paths certainly do need to cross.
Thing is I’m better. Finally, I’ll prove it on Sunday.
BTW, check’s in the mail on the Noble Gaming name.
…Did you not receive it yet?
— — — — —
The past two months have been eye-opening. I’m pretty sure I’m slowly going crazy. Bobbie tells me I called her Blaire Moise the other day. Two weeks ago I swear I was wrestling Kevin Capone but apparently it was Steve Solex.
The dude certainly fought like Kevin.
Ah well. Here I am, locked up inside the Dearness Living Community… or was it the Dearness Living Center? Does it even matter? Probably not, I’m sure those titles are interchangeable.
I exit, catch an Uber to the Best Arena, do my thing and then I go straight back here. Why, you ask?
I locked myself up to channel a different side of me and that side certainly showed when I punked Stronk Godson down to regular punctuation, no more ALL CAPS.
Now, Imma do the same to Steve Harrison. Good thing is he doesn’t begin with SCREAMING LETTERS.
Look, I prolly won’t kill the guy, he’s a little too skilled for that and this is a legal wrestling match with nothing out of the ordinary.
…But I really wanna mangle his face and stupid bald head.
In fact, for months the entire Highwaymen have made my mind spin. Clay verbally cries about having a World Title shot against yours truly, as if this is some sort of punishment… when it’s all he’s ever wanted! Now Steve Harrison is mad I’ve had two World Championship reigns to my name.
Correct me if I’m wrong but Steve could’ve written his own 97 story if he successfully defeated Christopher America. It’s not like Harrison hasn’t received recent opportunities.
And I’m the one who’s going crazy.
“Funny world,” I say out loud to no one. Viewing the cereal bowl off to the side, I’m pretty sure I just had breakfast so Walter won’t be down for at least three more hours with lunch.
Or was his name Warren? Seriously, Conor, get a grip.
There I rock, back and forth, side to side, sitting cross legged on the cement prison floor. This is what I do, some deep soul searching. Am I a killer? Am I a good guy, bad guy or what?
Harrison says I’m selfish. Says I want the spotlight to myself. Is this true? I mean I did interrupt their Tag Team Championship celebration. But I was coming at it from an honest point of view. I know he doesn’t understand this. Though if I won a title and another guy, who I didn’t like, comes down for a peace offering, I’d be pissed.
I’ve tried. Again and again. Clay. Solex. Harrison. They aren’t the first to push me away. Jack Harmen AKA High Flyer. I wanted us to be friends. I thought we were.
He stabbed me in the back.
Jatt Starr. Hey now, there’s a guy who I don’t know WTF is up. We were not only friends, he was my mentor. We had a team together, alongside JPD and Mario.
It fell apart so fast and now Jatt blames me for choosing Bobbienette over him.
Did I really choose? Do I really care about Bobbie over my main man?
I give Harrison a lot of slack, A LOT of slack. Well, for starters he is an idiot. 99% of what he said doesn’t make sense but the Bobbie comment…
I place a hand on my chin and contemplate this thought. God knows I have time, I ain’t going anywhere for a couple more days. The plan remains the same. Uber, Best Arena, ICONIC and straight back here.
I think I care about Bobbie. I sacrificed for her. In the end, sure, I did something Bobbie was unlikely to do… kill another man. But I walked away from seeking my third World Championship, finding revenge on Christopher America, Tyler Best and of all people Cecilworth Farthington. I did this for Bobbie.
Funny how our friendship started out as superficial. Even I know that. I’m as naïve as they come but I could see it on her face… how she DIDN’T want much to do with me.
Then we truly got to know each other.
It’s the same with Lindsay Troy as it was Zeb Martin and the others. I selflessly want to help. If you’ve got a gun to my head at the start of my HOW career and you ask me how far I think I would’ve gone…
LSD Title, MAYBE.
I’m a second player… a teammate. Everything else that happened last summer threw me into another dimension.
I earned it, sure. I worked hard. I LEVELED UP, like I continue to say. I WANT TO be the best but being the best was never my initial intention.
Now, however… I’ve come too far not to be the figurehead.
“Some people you just can’t be friends with, Conor,” I’m shocked to hear a voice off to my right. It’s not the typical voice I’d hear, either. For a couple of years now I’ve heard voices in my head but this certainly isn’t New-Age Conor. There’s much more of a slyness to his voice. Instead, this one seems genuine. Honest. Dare I say… fun.
Perhaps I should turn my head around.
On the other side of the bars, I see myself sitting there. I’m not older, or younger. I wear the same clothes. I seem to have the same whereabouts. Cross legged, rocking around, smiling at me.
“I know what you’re going to say,” the other me comments, “and no, I’m not here to trick you into doing something you don’t want to. I’m merely here for a conversation.”
“What happened to NAC?” I ask this new Conor, as if he’s the all-knowing within my subconscious. “And what do I call you?”
I look to the floor, contemplating and then back up at myself. As stated, it’s my exact reflection… although there are two dark circles under this Conor’s eyes.
“Hmmm, good question,” the reflection says. “Let’s say I am ‘Calamity’ Conor. And to be honest, I’m not sure what happened with that other Conor you randomly spoke to. He may have retired.”
“So, Fuse,” Calamity begins, “why are you still here?”
“Well,” I slowly collect my thoughts. “Historically, Rumble at the Rock was a really tough go for me, okay? I lost to Jatt Starr then I lost to Mike Best and then I’m going against the wrestler everybody loves. They say he’s a funnier, better version of me so I had to get into a new mindset and… and…”
I realize Calamity Conor’s lost interest.
“That’s not what I meant,” he conveys. “I mean why are you HERE.”
I don’t get it.
“As in HOW. Right now. Why are you in High Octane Wrestling?”
I can tell Calamity Conor believes I don’t know how to answer this so he continues.
“The way I see it… you’ve accomplished everything. It’s no big deal what Steve Harrison has said about you. HE’s the one who needs to win. You’re already a made man…”
I kinda like this Conor guy. He’s better than NAC. New-Age Me would typically tear me down and then giggle about it.
“So what keeps you here? Well I, for one, think you’re staying in HOW because there IS this new side to you…”
Calamity Conor lowers his head to the ground but keeps his attention locked on me. I clearly see the dark circles under his eyes. They are pitch black, as if I haven’t slept in weeks.
“And you like this new side of you. You want to see it expand… see it to its fullest potential.”
“Hey, now, man,” I interject. “I thought you said you’re not gonna try tricking me into something I DON’T want to do!”
Calamity Conor doesn’t move, he continues to stare at me. It’s making me feel awkward. I need to break the silence.
“Also,” I add, “can I call you CC for short?”
A short smirk crosses Calamity Conor’s face. He lifts his head and pleasantly responds.
“Sure, dude,” he replies. “Call me whatever.”
He takes another pause while I twiddle my thumbs.
“But I’m not here to do anything underhanded to you, Conor,” he states. “I’m not here to trick you into going bad, or providing sketchy advice. I’m not clever.”
He stops at the end of that sentence. He readjusts himself, taking a calming breath in and then a relaxing breath out.
“I will not beat around the bush. Imma tell it to you EXACTLY how you should hear it. No mind games with me. Yeah, I’m not a good guy. Calamity Conor isn’t a friendly dude. But you know what…”
He stops and points his left index finger directly at me.
“Neither are you.”
I look down at my chest and place my hands over it. Does the heart that beats inside my body pump blood through a bad guy?
“That’s why you’re still in HOW, to explore this DO ANYTHING IT TAKES side of you… while also ENJOYING it and seeing how far ‘ANYTHING IT TAKES’ can go. Kill a guy here; end a career there. I’m telling ya, Harrison’s right. You’re using Bobbie. It didn’t start off like that but now… now you ARE using her. You can toss her aside if you so desire. You’re Conor Fuse, man. You are THE wrestler in High Octane. Sure, sure, Mike is back. For a week or two. YOU’RE the poster boy of HOW. You’re the mainstay. The guy who people measure themselves up to. You. Fucking Video Game Dude. And the thing I like about you the most… is your recent edge on… calamity.”
He smirks again.
“Stop being so nice. When Harrison says you’re arrogant, don’t go defending yourself about the million ways you’ve been kind to others. Be arrogant. Worry about you and ONLY you. Because even when you did worry about others… no one believed it. Go all in. End Harrison’s life for even thinking he should be on your level because we both know he isn’t.”
I try taking it in.
“See?” Calamity Conor states. “Told you, I’m direct. Telling it like it is…”
CC makes a good point, I think? Exploring the killer inside of me… yes. That’s why I’m locked away in the DLC basement. I was tired of the easy going side of Conor Fuse.
There’s a reason I brought that controller to Harrison.
Deep down, being totally honest with myself, I knew he would BREAK IT.
And it would give me a reason to wrap it in barbed wire…
And then wrap it around his neck.
Screw the rules on Sunday. I’m doing it.
I WANT TO.
“This is why…” CC jumps into the middle of my thoughts. “…Conor Fuse vs. Steve Harrison is happening. The reality is it has nothing to do with Harrison and everything to do with you. It’s an opportunity to show High Octane how far you’re willing to go.”
I look down at the prison floor and I see the same barbed wire controller, the one Harrison stepped on, smashing it into a million pieces. I guess I brought it back here with me and taped it together. I thought there was only a cereal bowl in my cell.
Perhaps I selectively tuned this out.
I lean over, crawling towards the barbed wire controller. I place both hands over it, I don’t care where the barbs are. They can go through my hand. I’ve had nails pierce through these suckers before.
I pick up the controller.
“Yes!” CC cries in joy. “Shred his fucking head open! Make sure ANYONE ELSE who feels slighted by Conor Fuse thinks twice before calling you out again! Forget respect. Prove you’ll do anything it takes to win! Narrative be gone, wins and losses are the only thing that matters.”
Anything it takes, huh?
I kinda like the sound of that…