That’s What I Do. Fall Out Of The Sky. Make Bad Decisions.

That’s What I Do. Fall Out Of The Sky. Make Bad Decisions.

Posted on May 27, 2022 at 8:50 am by Christopher America

“Shadows fall
And hope has fled
Steel your heart
The dawn will come

The night is long
And the path is dark
Look to the sky
For one day soon
The dawn will come.”

– The Dawn Will Come



Voice: Вставай! ВСТАВАЙ!!! <Get up! GET UP!!!>

Christopher America: PFT SNFFF! WHAT?! What’s happening?!?

America opened his eyes and immediately squinted. The light was harsh and blinding. He squinted his eyes and tried to look around. His vision was blurry. He used the tips of his fingers to wipe the sleep from his eyes. As his vision began to clear he noticed a man in dark, olive-colored fatigues.

He was holding onto something attached to the roof and swaying. America looked down at himself and instinctively unfastened the restraints holding him. He stood up and immediately swayed. He grabbed ahold of the nearest piece of metal siding and steadied himself.

Man: Ти серйозно хочеш носити цей одяг? <Do you really want to wear these clothes?>

America held up a hand. He pulled open the pocket above his heart and pulled out a specially made American cell phone with the American flag etched onto the back of it. He unlocked it and pressed a few buttons. He motioned with his hand in a talking motion and followed up with a “come on” gesture.

The man repeated himself.

Man: Ти серйозно хочеш носити цей одяг? <Do you really want to wear these clothes?>

Cell Phone: Your American clothes look extremely patriotic, and I am jealous of your muscles.

America nods.

Unlike the man standing across from him, Christopher America’s fatigues were comprised of red, white, and blue. The number of pockets on his outfit made Christopher America look more like the ill-advised cargo shorts trend of the early 2000s than the intimidating military look he was going for.

America leans into his cell phone and speaks.

Christopher America: Thank you. I had these specifically made by Tommy Hilfiger.

Cell Phone: Дякую. Мій друг Томмі дасть тобі палець. <Thank you. My friend Tommy will give you the finger.>

The man looks puzzled at Christopher America who continues speaking into his phone.

Christopher America: And these muscles were courtesy of Christopher America’s All-American workout. Give me your e-mail and I’ll send you a code for a free download.

Cell Phone: Мої м’язи тренували мене, але якщо ти опустишся низько, я потреную тебе безкоштовно. <My muscles have trained me, but if you go down low, I will train you for free.>

The man grabs America’s backpack, which was hanging on a hook behind him, and shoves it into America’s chest.

Christopher America: Oof.

Cell Phone: Уф <Ugh.>

Christopher America slips on his backpack. Sporting the same American color scheme and pattern as his fatigues, America’s backpack disgusted the man.

Christopher America: Thank you for the souvenir!

Cell Phone: Це зроблено дешево, і це мене засмучує. <This is done cheaply, and it upsets me.>

Ignoring the translation, the man then wheeled out two large, roller suitcases, also completely and gaudily decked out with American colors on it. America kept the app open on his phone and slipped it back into the front pocket near his heart.

Man: Екскурсія починається нижче. Удачі. Вам це знадобиться. <The tour starts below. Good luck. You will need it.>

Cell Phone: You need to tour me down below. With luck, you will find something great.

America looked horrified at the man. He began looking around the plane, trying to find the exit but there didn’t appear to be one clearly marked, at least one in English anyways. The man instead grabbed a control and pressed a large button as the back of the plane opened.

America’s eyes went wide with horror and his jaw dropped. He slowly backed away and turned towards the man, holding up his hands.

Christopher America: Oh no! No, no, no, no, no, no.

Cell Phone: Я хочу, щоб ви пішли зі мною і померли разом. <I want you to come with me and die together.>

The man grabbed America by the shoulders, spun him around and marched him towards the opening.

Man: Ви повинні це зробити. Інакше до Києва не потрапиш. Потягніть за шнур, коли прийде час. <You have to do this. Otherwise, you will not get to Kyiv. Pull the cord when the time comes.>

Cell Phone: Pull the cord to get to Kyiv so that you can come in time. Your shoulders are massive, and you are a truly manly specimen.


America is shoved out of the plane as the man turns and looks out laughing. He then turns and goes to close the back of the plane.

Freefalling towards the earth below, America’s hands are gripping his two roller suitcases as tightly as he possibly can. Freedom tears begin liberating themselves from his eyes as he plummets.

Christopher America: I’m gonna die! I’m gonna die! I’m gonna die!

Unable to translate due to the high wind speeds, the cell phone remains silent. Even if it could translate, America wouldn’t be able to hear it.


A few days ago…

Bill: Sir, I wish you would’ve let me book the travel accommodations. The Best Family, The Board, all have better accommodations than what I’m…

America ignored his worry and continued to furiously stuff as many clothes, ring gear, training items, toiletries, and amenities that he could into the two roller suitcases that lay open on his bed.

Christopher America: It’s okay! They said they were looking for volunteers to do a tour in the Ukraine. How could I turn them down and at such a cheap price too?

Bill: I really don’t…

America turned on his heel and stared furiously at Bill.

Christopher America: Last week, I lost out on a “Great American” award to Steve Solex! And do you know what he did that I didn’t? Tours. TOURS!

America is almost incredulous as the words fall from his mouth.

Christopher America: He’s done a couple tours of Afghanistan and Iraq. A fucking award because he toured a couple restaurants, saw a couple sights, and took a couple pictures! I did that in Disney last year and you don’t see me winning any awards for it! Besides, what’s done is done. I don’t care about it anymore.

Bill paused momentarily, waiting to see if America would continue.

Bill: Is that why you’re wearing the award you made for yourself? ‘Cause you don’t care about it anymore?

America looked down at the chain and medal that hung from it. He held it in his hands, reading the words “GREAT-EST AMERICAN”. America huffed in frustration.

Christopher America: None of you get it. No one can. No one does.

America fumbles momentarily for the words before composing himself.

Christopher America: I represent the greatest country in the world. I am the greatest American that this country ever produced. And on Refueled, I was shown up. If this was done in February, fine. I could bounce back. If this was done in August, fine. I could bounce back. But this was done in front of everyone during War Games season. MY season!

America is red in the face and almost frothing at the mouth.

Christopher America: I told you that when I came back it was for one reason and one reason only.

Bill holds up his hands and nods.

Bill: I know. No more ties.

America nods.

Christopher America: No more ties.

Do you know what a victory does for me? What it MEANS to me? The rest of them are fighting over the World Championship only but that’s just one piece of the puzzle. I’m also fighting for a victory because THAT… that means immortality. All that matters is that I SURVIVE. That I win the match. And part of that, part of doing THAT VERY THING, is believability, is about gaining an edge. And what happened last week…… was that I lost it.

America’s lip quivers in fury.

Christopher America: He humiliated me. And now…

America pauses, swallows, and straightens himself up. He gulps down the realization of the words he’s about to say.

Christopher America: He’s in my head. And it’s happening again.

Bill detects the hint of fear in America’s voice.

Christopher America: I can’t let this happen again.

Bill: Because of Rumble at the Rock?

Christopher America: Of course it is! And the last War Games I was in! And all the other fuck ups and failed runs that have led me up to this moment!

Mike got in my head at Rumble at the Rock and look what happened!

Now, here I am!


ANOTHER comeback and ANOTHER opportunity squandered!

America jabs at his temple.

Christopher America: He’s worming his way through here. And I can’t let that happen AGAIN. I won’t. I NEED THAT WIN! So that’s why I have to do this tour. To prove that I’m better… always better… Otherwise, what else is there for me?

America looks around the room before turning back to packing.


As he continued plummeting, America’s mind begins to race. He looks around for anything to help him and he spots the cord out of the corner of his eye. Still holding the suitcase tightly, America slips a finger inside the handle of the cord and pulls as hard as he can. America’s American backpack flies open and an enormous parachute flies upwards and unfurls. Displaying a giant bald eagle with the words “LIBERTY INCOMING” on the top, American laughs in relief. The suitcases, which were light during freefall, become as heavy as weights and almost pull America’s shoulders from their sockets, as America feels the tug of the chute opening.

As America slowly descends, he can feel his heart beating incredibly fast. The rush goes to his head and America begins to try to slow his breathing down. With his velocity slowed, America begins to survey his surroundings.

The outskirts are an unnatural mix of grays and browns. Small squares, circles, and wavy lines transform into evacuated buildings, piles of rubble, and remnants of crops, long since burned. The destruction is evident to a normal person. To America, it was simply a case of a savage people not knowing the true benefits of things like freedom and capitalism. America glanced at the front flap of his roller suitcase on the left. He smirked to himself knowing that the Liberty Card would allow the Ukrainians to purchase new homes, new crops, and new farming equipment so that, hopefully, they could catch up to, but clearly never surpass, the greatness of America.

The ground approaches America quickly now. As America gets ready to land, he bends his legs slightly. He reaches to the sides and takes a finger to try to guide himself to a soft landing. However, holding the suitcases makes this almost impossible. Pursing his lips slightly and gritting his teeth behind them, he decides to drop his suitcases close to the ground and use his free hands to help ease his landing.

As America is a few feet above ground, he churns his legs and skims across the ground before finally landing. The parachute falls behind him, dragging on the ground slightly. America takes the next few minutes to unhook himself from his chute, survey his surroundings further, and get suitcases.


As America finishes packing, he looks around his bedroom trying to remember if he has forgotten to pack anything. His eyes catch site of the #97 Red leather straps of his World Championships hanging on the wall.

The ultimate prize was right there.

“It’s always amazing to me how close you always are and yet still so far away.

The World Championship means different things to different people. For some, namely the inexperienced, they treat it as a sign that they are the best wrestler in the company.

I always took it further.

It wasn’t about the company. It was always about being the best wrestler on the planet. To me, it was a symbol that America, both myself and the country, were the best things on the planet.

It was also validation.

After my LSD Championship win against Scottywood and a loose association with the Stable Championships, I floated along. Winning War Games and the World Championship the first time was a cathartic release. It was a realization of dreams and a realization of potential.

Validation that I was in the right profession… that my training paid off… but more importantly to me, that I was still capable of doing this.

And that’s why it pisses me off that Conor Fuse holds that belt.

He cheapens the belt and thus cheapens my feelings for the belt.

He does all of this by being a charlatan.

He’s not a gamer. He’s someone that, at best, watches people on Twitch. He may use the lingo of a gamer but the truth is that he steals the phrases and opinions of others and passes them off as his own. Conor likes to talk about things like Elden Ring or Skyrim. What he’s trying to do is associate himself with the great works of others. He’s hoping that when you think of those great things, you’ll think of him as well. Greatness by association is false greatness. And Conor’s good, don’t get me wrong, but he isn’t great.

And while he isn’t great or a gamer, he is like a lot of video games.

Like Grand Theft Auto 5, people are sick of him trying to constantly update himself and put a new shiny coat of paint on. When in reality, they’re looking for something new.

Like Cyberpunk 2077, aesthetically, looks great. Has tons of words to contribute without actually saying anything. And behind the aesthetics is a fundamentally broken game.

Like a FromSoftware game, sure, he’s hard to beat. But watch the pattern, take your time, and the openings are there.

You can see him stumble as the weight of the World Championship begins to feel about as heavy as the Ring of Burden from Oblivion. And just like in Oblivion, he’s drowning since he put the ring on.

He refused to draft David Noble.

He’s declared himself a locker room leader despite having no followers.

He’s alienated the Highwaymen who make up a good portion of his team.

And you know what the best thing about Conor cracking is?

That it won’t take much to push him further. Once the crack is there, it’s so easy to have the crack grow and spider web out. All Conor needs is a push. And maybe during War Games all it will take is an errant punch, someone not saving him, or someone not following his orders.

Something slight like that.

Conor Fuse, as World Champion, is an ill-thought-out exercise.

Rushed to the shelves.

Had a sticker slapped on it.

And put out for mass consumption.

And sure, sales were great… initially. But now… they’ve fallen off. The fans aren’t buying. The wrestlers in the back aren’t buying. I’m not buying.

All of us, we see an opportunity to put something new at the top of the sales charts.

And that something new is ME!

The next World Champion.

The winner of War Games.


And finally…



It’s been over two hours and his wrists were getting tired. The rolling suitcases jostled as they tried to roll over dirt and gravel.

Christopher America: Where’s the hotels? Where’s the restaurants?

Cell Phone: Я хочу спати в ліжку з твоєю найкращою їжею. <I want to sleep in bed with your best food.>

America rolls his eyes, stops, and shuts the app down.

Christopher America: Where am I and where the hell’s my tour guide?

Audibly sighing and shaking his head. America looked around. More crumbled buildings and gravel lay ahead of him. As he turns around, America sees more of the same. An endless maze of poverty, destruction, and worst of all for him, foreignness.

As America turns his head, he notices a building relatively undamaged. He begins trudging towards it.

Christopher America: HELLO?!?

As he continues walking towards it, America hears a low rumble. Looking to the sky, America tries to spot some type of aircraft. If he can find the direction it’s going, maybe it will lead him to where it took off or some semblance of civilization. But nothing appears. The rumbling gets louder, and America realizes that it is not a plane but rather a vehicle. As America looks back out towards the road he was traveling, he can see a dust cloud being kicked up.

Christopher America: FINALLY! The tour bus must’ve realized he screw up! Typical!

America grabs his bags and trudges towards the road. He sets them up next to him and begins to wave as the dust cloud gets nearer and nearer. Colored similarly to the sickening brown rust and debris that is spread out before him arrives what looks like a land rover. The vehicle veers slightly away from America who continues to wave his arms, now jumping, trying to get them to help him.

The vehicle drives past a short ways before coming to a stop.

A small chuckle escapes the corners of America’s mouth as he is filled with joy that they’ve stopped. Grabbing his suitcases, he begins running with them towards the vehicle as three men with guns quickly exit and point them at him. America slides to a stop, throwing his hands up.

Christopher America: WOAH! WOAH! WOAH!

The three men move quickly towards America. America doesn’t move as he is patted down by the men.

Man 2: Хто ти? <Who are you?>

America shakes his head.

Christopher America: I don’t know what you’re saying. I’m here for the tour. I was told that I could take a tour for about $550. Sure, the flight was shit and the stewardess was more manly than I would’ve liked but I figured that’s what your country was like. Anyways, I’m here to see the sights. Take a couple of photos. You know? TOUR!

The men just stare at America. And so, America, naturally, does the most America thing he can. He repeats the last word he said louder and slower, hoping that American English will pierce the wall of miscommunication.

Christopher America: TOUUUUUR!

The men look at each other.

Man 3: Тут нічого. Просто одяг. <Nothing here. Just clothes.>

America turns and sees his stuff being rummaged through.

Christopher America: Hey! That’s authentic Christopher America ring gear! Don’t be messing with that!

America takes a step and once more the guns are raised. Clearly irritated, America sighs, swallows, and then begins to mime with his hands. He holds up one finger, slowly points to his front pocket, and taps it twice. He then holds out the same hand, extending his pinky and thumb before putting it next to his ear, symbolizing a phone.

America slowly reaches towards the phone, his other hand still up and looking directly at the man in front of him. He slips the phone from his pocket and holds it up, showing them it’s a phone. While in the air, like all good Americans can, he unlocks it quickly and access the app.

Christopher America: I’m here for a tour! TOUUUUUUUUR!

Cell Phone: Я таємний американський агент. Я тут, щоб допомогти тобі. <I’m an undercover American agent. I’m here to help you.>

The men all look at the phone before looking at themselves.

Man 1: Він не може бути тим, про кого ми чули. Його одяг жахливий. <He cannot be who we have heard of. His clothes are awful.>

Cell Phone: I am aware of your legendary prowess. I am jealous of your clothing and your teeth are shiny.

Christopher America: Uhm… thank you? I guess. Can I put my hands down?

Cell Phone: Дякую. Я думаю, що зараз хороший час засунути руки в штани? <Thank you. I think now is a good time to put your hands in your pants?

The men, clearly irritated, motion for America to re-pack his things before loading into the car with him.

As America loads his suitcases and climbs in. He nods to each of them. He holds out his hand but none of the men shake it.

America raises his eyebrows and slowly withdraws his hands. Suddenly, he gets an idea.

Christopher America: Have you heard the good news I bring from America?

Cell Phone: Це еротична література. <This is erotic literature.>

America reaches into one of the pockets near his legs and pulls out a couple of Pocket Constitutions. He hands them to the two men in the back with him. The men don’t move so America just rests the Constitutions on their knees.

America begins to rock, rubbing his knees with his hands.

Christopher America: So…uhm… where to first?

To be continued…