SNITCH

SNITCH

Posted on December 16, 2020 at 8:52 pm by High Flyer

So, I haven’t been seen on HOW tv in quite some time. The world was a buzz when Lee announced John Sektor vs. High Flyer, a dream match from a decade ago that would have sold out arenas round world. Now, I’ll be lucky to open up the show against the wily vet on his comeback, on his 2020 Reunion Best Alliance World Tour. And that’s fine.

I like playing spoiler.

**

December 6th, 2020

I had a long night…

It’s 9:45, maybe 10 am. I don’t know, they took my watch and all my stuff. This room is windowless without any clocks. The chains around my wrist and ankles rattle, like the Ghosts of Christmas Past. This room is as cold as my personality needs to be. Never more appropriate to be the Snowman.

The side door opens and two men walk in. Both wearing suspenders, showing empty carrying holsters around their waists and it looks like they’ve removed their over-jackets. One is a African male, late 40s, gruff and it looks like he hasn’t shaved in a few days. The other is a blonde blue chipper, no doubt, who’s seen the job wear down on his Homegrown Country yokel demeanor. Mid 30s, boyish youth and good looks that are being taken from him every day by this job. I bet he’ll be fast tracked to the Police chief one day, whether he deserves it or not.

“Alright,” The white cop pulls his chair out scratching it loudly against the cold concrete. “We can do this the easy way,” He cracks his knuckles, “ Or we can do it the hard way… “ He finally takes a seat, the chair scraping as he scuffs it in. “This isn’t a matter of your guilt Mr. Harmen. We caught you, red handed.”

Sure, let’s see what a jury says about all that.

“But if you cooperate, it could go a long way to not only your defense, but your sentencing,” the cop continues. “It’s about what information you’re willing to provide to mitigate your sentence.”

They don’t say another word before they slam a picture of Max Kael’s lifeless body in front of me. I can’t help but react, a sense of revulsion and horror, mixed with a sense of jealous zest. Mike Best really did a number on him.

I wish I could have been the one to end him. If someone had to…

The African American can tell my reaction isn’t pure horror, and I can tell that intrigues him. He’s probably the smarter of the two. I’ll keep my eyes on him.

“We know you know the man who goes by the Minister in recent days, one Maximillian Kael.” The African American cop begins. “As you are no doubt aware, he was recently murdered live on pay per view…” The cop reveals a playbill of Rumble at the Rock. “A show you were not even booked on. How is that? The legendary and incomparable High Flyer can’t even get a pay per view payday from this company.” He shrugs. “No matter. I don’t care why. My question is… do you help us prove Max Kael is dead and allow us to convict Mike Best and HOW for the murder of one of it’s athletes…” He leans in, head tilted. “Or do you continue showing loyalty to a man who’s shown he’s more than willing to discard you like last night’s bloody tampon?”

I smile. So, that’s the tactic you’re goin’ for? Ain’t bad. But ain’t good either.

“So,” I chuckle. “You want me to, what, prove Max Kael is dead to you?” I laugh. “You said it yourself… I wasn’t booked. Hell, I wasn’t even there!”

“But you paid your respects.” The white cop pulls out a picture of me from the Max Kael Memorial Show, just after the Rock. “Are you saying you never saw a body that night?”

I have my head hung in the palm of my hand, covering my eye. “If I had,” I lean in, revealing my bad eye. “I’d be looking at you with his eye. Yeah?” I tried to hide a grin, but one side of my mouth betrays me.

I lean back in my chair, point proven. I cross my arms over my chest, to show my disdain for the whole situation. I tilt my head to the side, waiting.

“We all saw Max die,” The African American cop started. “You think Lee Best and HOW won’t try to do the same thing to someone else? Like your co-worker, or your friends,” He leans in, this is the big reveal, I’m sure. The thing that’ll make me confess. “Or… even you?”

The white cop interrupts. “Why are you protecting the Bests anyway? You think they give a shit about you? You’re something they use up until there’s no longer any value and they toss you aside.” He starts producing headshots of former HOW athletes, starting with Eric Dane ending with Mariella Jade Flair. That one hurts a bit. They notice. “You think you’re any different than any of these people before you? You think Lee Best gives a shit? Hell, he’s the one who called the tip in on you Jack!”

What?

They noticed my reaction. “Oh? You didn’t know that?” The white cop laughs. “Here, I got the transcript right here.” He tosses me a manila envelope. I lean forward, opening it to read. Indeed, they’ve written here that the complaint originated from Lee Best. It states here that they could have arrested me for vandalism, but Lee wanted to make a point. Or whoever was pretending to be Lee maybe. Nah, It was probably Lee… He wanted to show his power. He got me for Grand Theft Auto.

I did break in, but I wasn’t intending to steal his car. I just wanted to shit in his radiator.

Not gonna say any of that though. Not here.

“I mean,” The white cop continues. “I wouldn’t show loyalty to a man who’s willing to throw you aside, who’s willing to drop a dime on you. Who’s even willing to kill you and yours for profit.”

“Throw you under the proverbial tractor.”

I give the cop a side glance of confusion.

The white cop continues on, unabated. “Why not help us Jack? Help us clean up the wrestling industry. You and Lee, you and Mike… I’ve looked up your history. You’re not a fan of theirs… well, neither are we.” The white cop extends a hand. I just stare at him. He relents for a moment, but his hand is still partially extended as an olive branch. “What’s he going to do for you? What’s HOW ever done for you? They’ve done NOTHING for your career. If anything, your stock is worse now than it was when you started in High Octane. I remember seeing you do press for blockbuster movies. I remember you on marquee’s wrestling Deacon in front of eighty thousand people. Now? You’re lucky to even be booked. Here, you got a golden ticket opportunity in a feud with John Sektor…”

“I would have paid to see that match five years ago.” The African American cop continued. “Now? I think I’ll watch some Football instead.”

“I didn’t know you guys cared.” I wipe away an imaginary tear. “Who are you again?”

The white cop finally relents and pulls his extended hand back. The black cop leans in. “Listen, we just want to provide you an option. This option not only helps sweep your issue under the rug, but helps us get proof on long standing rumors, and maybe helps us start building a rico case. Maybe we can make this organization pay for what it’s done. Not just to you. Not just to Max Kael. But to humanity.” He leans in, touching my arm. “Please. I’m begging you.”

I blow him a kiss. “It’s wrestling you idiot.” I shrug. “It’s a SHOW.” He grits his teeth. I think he knows I’m lying.

So I smile.

“Lawyer.”

**

Here is my confession.

I haven’t exactly been the poster child for HOW. I entered HOW as a lark, as a fun side project. Lee thought he got the golden cow, when the milk had all already run out. A nostalgia trip down memory lane. I didn’t come to HOW to be a champion, to show the world how bad ass I am. How I can wrestle circles around people. How I am the greatest, and it’s not just a fucking tattoo on my arm.

I just joined for a bit of fun.

I got roped into the feud of my life against Max Kael, and I had more fun than a person can have in a lifetime. Those three months, c’est magnifique, deliciouso. But, it was honestly more than I could handle. More than I expected. More than I could ever want. It wrinkled my brain. So, I came down to earth, I attempted to be a mentor, the wily vet with the cagey rookie in MJFly… it was supposed to reset me, it was supposed to be my moral compass. Then I lost her. I lost the Best Alliance, I lost the approval of Lee, and then I lost my only ally.

In the end, the reason I think I’m still here, still in HOW… I think I’m just chasing that feeling. That sense of blood brotherhood with Max Kael. The violence, it was… something else.

Now, I stand back looking at the past fifteen months and wonder where the time has gone. All of our friends have torn each other apart. Enemies became friends became enemies again. All because of shiny belts and props and Whitewater secret meetings.

The world is a strange cycle.

So, I know I just gotta keep doing what I’m doing. I’m talented enough to surprise anyone on any day. One day? I’ll be in the right place at the right time.

It’s strange how things change, yet they stay the same. The first night I entered this company, I squared off against Sektor in the historic War Games as part of the Best Alliance.

Now, Sektor, as a puppet, has been sent to eliminate the last vestige of a forgotten failed experiment of egos and blunders. Mike Best’s gun has become Lee’s… sights set on his former failed wildcard.

At ICONIC, High Flyer battles John Sektor, and while my HOW career may not be on the line…

… it might as well be.