Victim

Victim

Posted on June 5, 2022 at 2:28 pm by Jace Parker Davidson

It was an unusually cloudy day here in Miami, Florida. We open up in front of the Miami Memorial Park Cemetery. A large group of people are gathered inside as there seems to be some kind of service in progress. The closer we get inside it is soon revealed to be that the group gather consists of wrestlers from HOW and other various companies. There are random family members and loved ones mixed among the group of wrestlers. They are all seated and facing the direction of a tombstone and an open grave. Most people are dressed in black; other than Bobbinette Carey who is dressed head to toe in magenta. Beside her is Scottywood actually dressed nicely in a black suit. Only, he’s on all fours on the ground next to Carey and has a magenta dog collar and leash around his neck.  Others are crying while being comforted by someone else in the crowd.

From a distance HOW Hall of Famer Jace Parker Davidson can be seen walking towards the service. He has a confused look on his face but he’s dressed in a three piece black suit, a 97red button down shirt, and a matching black tie. He uses his hands to pat himself down as he turns in circles looking at his surroundings.

“When did we get back to Miami?” He wondered out loud.

He made his way further towards the gathering and started looking at each individual person seated there. He continues making his way past various coworkers and friends until he spots Tyler Best seated off to himself. The Grandson of God has his attention buried into his cell phone in his hands. Jace approaches his new partner and seeks some information.

“Hey Tyler, this might be weird but uh, why are we here?” Jace places a hand on Tyler’s shoulder and talks in a low whisper.

He tries to look inconspicuous as he waits for an answer from the youngest Best.

“Clearly, it’s some kind of funeral service. I know that much but who died?” He crouches down to get eye level with the last entrant in the War Games match.

However, there is no response from Tyler. He doesn’t even look in Jace’s direction. His unwavering focus remained on the phone, like all of this didn’t affect him in the slightest bit. Jace straightened up and decided to try elsewhere. It’s not like Tyler’s behavior was out of the norm given how he’s acted recently. Jace continues on until he spots another War Games teammate in Christopher America. The two-time War Games winner has tears in his eyes that he is fighting back while having his right hand placed over his heart. He sits there stoically dressed in a suit with an American flag print to it.

“Hmmm the way you’re sitting here proudly has got to mean whoever died must have been important or maybe a veteran.” Jace comments as he starts to feel a little guilty about his absolute lack of knowledge on the situation.

America doesn’t respond to Jace. The only movement from the most patriotic man in the world is a blink of his eyes before a single tear starts to slowly slide down his cheek.

“Wait, maybe it is a veteran. Holy shit, did you finally put Solex out of his misery? Serves that bastard right for having the audacity to call you a Commie.” Jace nudges America with his elbow as he spoke louder than he intended to.

America remained a statue unaffected by Jace’s comment or the nudge. Jace decided to quietly leave the man alone, thinking that maybe he offended America. Jace makes it closer to the open grave and spots the man himself. The God of HOW was standing off to the side with his arms folded behind his back. He was dressed in black and red, clearly, and had a pair of expensive sunglasses covering his eyes. His gray hair and beard seemed to have gotten even longer since Jace last saw him. Jace considered approaching the HOW owner but the angry expression on Lee’s face made him reconsider.

“If Lee Best is here then this must be serious.” Jace mumbled under his breath.

Just once again scanned the crowd but saw no sign of Clay Byrd or Conor Fuse. Before Jace could ponder further on this mystery the people seated turned their attention away from the open grave towards the open space behind them. Jace followed their line of vision and spotted the HOTv Champion Stronk Godson approaching. Stronk was dressed in nothing but a pair of boots, black ripped suit pants that he turned into shorts, and a tie wrapped around his neck even though he lacked a shirt of any kind. But that wasn’t the strangest thing about this situation. Stronk was literally carrying the coffin one handed over his shoulder like it was a boombox. It’s Stronk but still impressive. Shelley Greene followed behind the 307 pounder spraying him with body oil using one hand. While the other hand gripped a pair of black lace panties that he held up to his nose and savored.

“What the actual fuck?” The words escaped Jace’s lips but he quickly silenced himself.

Jace fell in line beside Lee Best, hoping not to receive a Bottomline straight to the eye from the man that signs his paychecks. Stronk continued to march his way forward carrying the casket with ease as everyone’s eyes followed the magnificent beast that was the HOTv Champion. Stronk reached the front then placed the coffin down on the mechanism used to lower the casket down into its eternal resting place. Stonk moved to stand on the other side of Lee and Jace while snatching the body oil from Shelley. Stronk lathers himself down even more as Shelley uses the black lace panties to dab away the tears in his eyes. That is before moving them back to his nose and taking a big, deep whiff of the crotch of the under garment.

“Ukraine has got to be better than this weirdness.” Jace thought to himself as things moved along slowly but surely.

After a while the CEO of HOW Michael Lee Best moved behind the casket and opened it up. He invited everyone to form a line to say their final goodbye to their lost comrade before they lowered him into the ground. One by one everyone in the gathering formed a line leading to the casket. Each person walked over to the casket one by one and had their moment with the deceased. Some spoke some final words, others cried and wished this tragedy never happened. The line progressed as Jace stood behind Lee Best while wondering just who was in this coffin that would garner such emotion from his fellow wrestlers. Jace watched as LSD Champion Steve Harrison approached the coffin. He lowered his head and said what seemed to be a prayer. However, he reached into the coffin and plucked a gold watch from the corpse and pocketed it thinking no one was looking.

“Changed man my ass.” Jace grumbled but honestly he was just mad he didn’t get to do it first.

Finally, Lee Best was the next to approach the casket. He removed his sunglasses and stared intently down into the casket. No words escaped his lips, no movement was made. Just a solemn glare at the shell of a human being inside. After a few moments Lee placed the sunglasses into the packet of his jacket and moved along. This meant that it was Jace’s turn. He would finally lay his eyes on the person inside and have a major piece of the puzzle that would explain what was happening. Jace gulped down the knot in his throat as he slowly approached the open coffin. He closed his eyes and exhaled a deep breath to settle his nerves before he would see the dead body inside. Once he felt ready, he slowly opened his eyes and looked down at the fallen soul that had met its ultimate demise.

What Jace saw shook him to his very core.

He did a double, even triple take, not believing what he was seeing. He reached up with both eyes and rubbed them furiously hoping to rub the lies from his very vision. He once again looked down into the casket and found there were no lies at all. He turned a ghostly pale color feeling like the very blood in his veins had run cold.

The person inside the casket was Board member and HOW Hall of Famer Jace Parker Davidson.

His mind couldn’t process what was happening. Reason and logic were nowhere to be found. He couldn’t connect the dots until doubt began to creep into his head. He took a few steps away from the coffin and looked over his shoulder at the crowd gathered.

“Haha, very funny guys. You went all this way just to rib me? Well, you might have fooled me for a moment, but I’m not dumb enough to lose my head over such a lame prank. Everyone has had their fun at my expense, so let’s get moving to Ukraine so I can get all of your fuckers back for wasting my time.” Jace laughed awkwardly but no one gathered found the humor in his words.

Jace walked over towards the crowd and found Simon Sparrow standing there quiet as a Church mouse. He reached out and punched his fellow Hall of Famer in the arm while chuckling.

“It was you, wasn’t it? This is a classic Jatt Starr prank. I would be worried that you have in your possession a life sized JPD doll. Just promise me you’ll keep it away from Zion. Just the thought of him using something that looked like me as a blowup doll is enough to make me cringe.” He shakes his head side to side as he continues to laugh.

But Simon Sparrow didn’t laugh, Simon Sparrow didn’t even move even when the punch landed on his arm. Jace punches him in the arm a second time but still not the slightest reaction was given. Clearly, they were fully committed to his bit and were going to see it out until the end. Jace decided to move away from Simon and looked to find someone else to clear the terrifying thoughts in his head. He looked over and saw Bobbinette leaned forward feeding Milk-Bone treats to Scottywood. The Hardcore Arti… Poodle happily downed the treats before showing his appreciation by humping Carey’s leg. Bobbinette smiled and patted Scotty on the head as went to town on her knee cap. Jace nopes right out of that shit then made his way over towards where David Noble was standing. Jace reached up and tousled Noble’s hair in a playful manner.

“Okay, maybe I was wrong about Simon but since he changed his name the quality of his material has gone down faster than the later seasons of Heroes. But you, you big knucklehead pulled off a good one. It’s usually the new guy to the team that gets pranked but you definitely turned the tables on me.”

Jace places his hands on his hips and chuckles.

“It’s just shocking because I didn’t know you had this kind of thing in you. Usually, you’re so… well… dull but I have certainly misread you. You just needed to be around some real talent to let your hidden personality shine through. You definitely earned brownie points with me and the fact that you want to knee Fuse’s head right off is a plus in my book. I just want to know one thing, where did you get the lifelike looking Jace doll?”

Jace slaps Noble across the chest with the back of his head as he waits for an answer. Just like last time an answer never comes. Jace turns his head to look at David Noble who hasn’t moved and upon further inspection he sees that David Noble hasn’t even blinked. Just a pair of dead eyes staring forward towards the casket. It was unnerving to say the least. Jace takes his hands off of his hips and staggers away looking for someone, anyone that can explain what the fuck is going on. Then suddenly it clicks in his head. Stronk is the one that carried the casket out here and unlike the others Stronk was moving. Jace shuffled his feet over to the #1 ranked wrestler in HOW, who was still coating his glorious physique with body oil.

“Stronk, buddy, you have got to help me! What is going on here? Why does everyone look like mindless zombies? Did the Darin Zion virus break out and everyone’s IQ fall beneath their shoe size? Why are we here? Why aren’t we in the Ukraine for War Games? I don’t like this; I don’t like this at all. We’re friends, right? Me and you, both HOTv Champions so we can relate to each other. Both members of the Best team at War Games. Just tell me this is all some sort of cruel joke, just tell me that please.”

Jace pleads with the Stonkest Man on Earth as he lays both of his hands on his chest. Obviously, his hands slide right off of Stonk’s chest and body to the massive amounts of body oil. Jace falls to his knees completely mentally exhausted, but Stronk lets out a grunt and extends his arm to point at the casket. Jace pulls himself up to his feet and walks back over to the casket. He looks down into the coffin before reaching out and touching the face of the corpse. Stronk walks over and begins speaking.

“YOU DIE. MAKE STRONK SAD. STRONK DON’T LIKE SAD TIMES. STRONK LIFT MUCH WEIGHT. EAT RED MEAT. WHOLE COW BEST RED MEAT. GOOD PROTEIN. STRONK VOW TO WIN WAR GAMES TO HONOR FRIEND DAVIDSON. YOU GET IN GROUND NOW. HAVE GOOD SLEEP WITH WORMS AND OTHER CRAWLY THINGS STRONK DOES NOT KNOW.”

Jace’s eyes widen as he realizes that the feeling of the face in the casket is smooth skin and not a doll. Tyler Best comes running up to the casket with his cell phone in hand. He leans against the coffin and takes a selfie with the corpse acting like he’s Grant Gustin posing in front of the grave of Oliver Queen. Tyler moves away from the coffin and begins to type a caption to the selfie before posting it on ‘the gram’ for all of his followers. Stronk reaches out and closes the casket before activating the mechanism to lower the coffin into its grave. Jace stumbles backward as the entire world starts spinning for him. He looks around trying to find someone or something to hold onto. His eyes scan around for some kind of assistance. Stronk begins flexing and posing his impressive muscles. Shelley Greene hides behind a nearby tree holding the black lace panties as the faint sound of a zipper being pulled down is heard. Off in the distance Jeffrey James Roberts can be seen standing in front of a camera cutting a promo which is word for word straight from a stack of cue cards held by a man behind the camera. Bobbinette Carey is tackled to the ground by Scottywood who begins licking her face like a dog would. Bobbinette giggles and tries to push Scottywood off of her, but his playful licking turns into some X-rated French kissing as Carey wraps her legs around him.

“That’s wrong even in death…” Jace mutters as he tries to keep the contents of his stomach right where they are.

Jace tries to steady himself on his feet when suddenly out of nowhere the HOW World Champion Conor Fuse comes running from up behind him and dropkicks Jace in the back.

“I am The Locker Room Leader! I am The Vintage, and it doesn’t matter if I am lovable or a villain because all of you are morons. Especially you! You think joining The Board is going to get you any closer to 97MarioRed? Not a chance and now you’ll never know because you’re dead! You’re just a dead BOT and I keep !RANK up further and further. The King of Everything has perished, long live the Legend of Zelda… I mean ME!” Conor unbuckles the HOW World Championship belt from around his waist and raises it high into the air.

Conor lets out a maniacal laugh as Jace falls down into the grave which feels like a bottomless pit with the way he keeps on falling. Suddenly, I feel a painful thud on my chest. My eyes open and instead of being in a cemetery in Florida, I am on the inside of the personal jet of The Board as we fly our way to Ukraine. I reached up and touched my forehead which throbbed a bit and realized all of that nonsense was just a dream. I had fallen asleep on the ride to Ukraine even though most of the members of the Best team were aboard this jet and rowdy. I looked over at Madison who was seated beside me. She had her airpods in her ears and her eyes on her phone trying to drown out the noise. It was then I remembered the pain in my chest before looking down at my lap and saw the source of said pain. It was a shitty IPA that Scottywood had tossed at me and hit me directly above the heart. I narrowed my eyes towards the Hardcore Artist who just glared back in my direction with a slight nod. My first thought was to grab the IPA and throw it as hard as I could back at Scottywood’s head.

“Remember Jace, teamwork, teamwork, teamwork. Just until War Games is over, you can make it that long.” I said under my breath as I gripped the IPA tightly in my hand.

I reached into my pocket with my free hand and pulled out the bottle of painkillers. I popped the top and poured some of them into my mouth. I replaced the cap and returned the bottle to my pocket. With a fake smile I raised the IPA into the air towards Scottywood.

No one can claim I’m not a team player if I have to drink this shitty IPA.

—–

So, by now everyone has heard the news. JJR has been canned from HOW and Dan Ryan has been kicked out as a trainer in the TEN-X program. Naturally that means the Best team is a man down or at least we were until Lee Best slapped his dick onto the table. JJR is being replaced on our team by HOW Hall of Famer and the newly rehired Scott Stevens.

I can just hear the laughter from the other team but honestly? Even without JJR and with Stevens being Stevens. We are still far and away a much better team than the Vintage Highway or whatever you want to call them. And its not even fucking close. As of this moment Xander Azula, Darin Zion, Clay Byrd, and Conor Fuse have yet to show their faces. That’s half the fucking team. Have they already waved the white flag and decided to beg for mercy? Are they wetting their pants over the fact of stepping into a war torn country or even more dangerous than that… stepping into the ring with the HOTv Champion and members of The Board?

This is always the biggest event of the year, and these motherfuckers are acting like it’s summer vacation.

Xander Azula has been busy training in a goddamn barn and wrestling matches in MVW. Honestly, I’d knock that but fuck if it isn’t fitting that Xander is in MVW. Maybe we can rip up his HOW contract and make him stay there until he ultimately wears out his welcome. But I guess all of that should have me shaking in my boots since rumor has it that Xander is being taught to spit fire directed squarely at my crotch.

What in the hokey, hillbilly bullshit is that?

Is Ray McAvay so goddamn obsessed that I set him on fire that he has his stooges teaching Xander to what? Give me a manscaping at War Games medieval style? Sounds legit, I mean Lord forbid that teach him some wrestling holds or maybe how to use a real weapon. No, let’s teach this loser to spit fire like this is a fucking Disney movie. Then again what can I really expect from a man that dressed up as a luchador with booty mouth breath? Can we really rely on a man that cries about getting screwed in his qualifying match against Christopher America? Then decides his grand revenge is attacking an unarmed referee? Yeah, real tough guy you are Joe. How are we ever going to recover from an attacked referee and lowly Xander Azula.

Fuck out of here.

You talk about fighting the machine but the only thing your ass is fighting is dementia.

Then you have Darin Zion and who the fuck knows what he is doing? Darin is the kind of asshole that you need to pat on the back and tell him what to do or when to do it. Man wouldn’t know how to tie his own shoes if he wasn’t supervised and given instructions. I’m sure we’ll here from him at the last fucking minute with a list of terrible nicknames he’s given himself using the number 4 and the letter Z. The sad thing is that Zion thinks being a bootleg Jatt Starr is somehow getting him over. Zion thinks he has heat. Motherfucker being annoying isn’t a gimmick no matter how hard you lean into it. You gave up the one and only woman on the entire planet willing to touch your penis for this? The only heat you have Zion is go away heat.

Meaning if you disappeared off the face of the Earth tomorrow, no one would even notice.

Next up is Mr. Co-Captain Clay Byrd. The so-called leader of the Highway Men couldn’t be bothered to make an appearance for Conor’s first ‘Team meeting’ and now he’s clearly too busy to put in the effort for War Games. As clarity finally seeped into Clay’s brain? Has being eliminated first from last year’s War Games match and squandering each and every single title match he’s finally made him realize his efforts are futile?

And before you even say it, yes I know Clay is one half of the HOW World Tag Team Champions with Solex.

And they did so much to win those belts… wait, no, the fuck they didn’t. It was JJR that took out that bitch ass Arthur Pleasant. He dragged his lifeless body down to the ring and practically handed you both the titles. All you had to do was cover him. Fucking sad that its the only way that Clay Byrd could ever call himself a Champion. But he started this whole war against The Board, correct? So, where is he? Where is the big, bad monster from Plainview? You would think maybe he’s lost or something. Wondering the streets of New York City and driving some sort of Camaro. But what do I know? I’m just a guy that puts in the effort and shows up for big matches. Fucking walking, talking, Woody from Toy Story cosplayer wants to take his ‘vengeance’ out on everyone else cause we’re ‘mean.’ When in reality the only reason for his failures is his lack of intelligence and skill.

Then again maybe Clay has a valid excuse.

Maybe someone put him in a headlock and he went night night without setting the alarm on his phone.

Last but certainly not least is our Champion Conor Fuse. The man you couldn’t shut up if you placed a muzzle on him. The man that has spent more time being over the top in his entrances than he has defending 97red. The Locker Room Leader has led shit since I banned him from in ring segments and Lee Best made him look like a bitch on live television. Before he tried to be the glue that held this ragtag group together. But Clay, Harrison, and Solex don’t play nice with others. Simon has lost faith, Xander is busy playing Hee Yaw with Joe Bergman and Zion? Well, he’s just happy to be included. You could tell him he would die in the Ukraine by air strike but if it meant getting to be in War Games he’d respond with a girly ‘YAY’ because… well fuck its Zion. That’s reason enough.

However, Carey, Harrison, Solex and Simon seem to be trying to carry the load for the team.

And each and every single one of them is overestimating their chances of winning and more pathetically overlooking yours truly. But that seems to be the popular trend isn’t it? Let’s all say that Jace Parker Davidson is washed up and maybe someone will actually believe us. Let’s say Jace isn’t the King of Everything anymore and treat him like he’s lower than Xander Azula on the HOW totem pole.

Sure, go on and doubt me. Ignore the fact that I’ve actually won a War Games match. Ignore the fact that I once had the longest HOW World Championship reign in this company. Bypass the fact that I’m one of the most accomplished HOW Hall of Famers. I’ve lost a step, I’m washed up, I can’t hack it anymore. Yet it was just last year that I finished second in the rankings for the entire year. Hell, since JJR stole all his promos from some college student’s term paper that means I am without a doubt the 2021 Wrestler of the Year. If I’m so goddamn flawed in the ring, then why hasn’t anyone even beat me so far this year?

Oh, sorry I forgot. Hypocrites believe logic isn’t real just like Republicans think Climate Change isn’t a thing.

Carey wants to diagnose everyone and talk about my issues. Yet this bitch can’t figure out her own ethnicity. We all hear you Carey, Juneteenth is right around the corner. Problem is we don’t give a flying fuck. No wonder is going to treat you nice just because it’s National Women’s Day or Juneteenth. No one is going to throw a parade in your honor just because it’s Martin Luther King’s birthday. Bitch, you’d be lucky to get a coupon to Dunkin’ Donuts on National Donut Day. The difference between you and me? I know who and what I am. I make no effort to hide it and I don’t have to hide behind Social Justice to pretend like my voice matters.

Simon Sparrow thinks that if his last match is approaching that someone like me doesn’t deserve to be his final opponent. You don’t want to go out like that? This son of a bitch was begging me to be his best friend when Sektor left him high and dry. Begged me to join the AoA and now I’m not good enough. You got it twisted Simon, you’re not good enough to be in another match against me. I would tell you to man up and stop being a crybaby but apparently that’s not possible since Stronk ripped your man card up into confetti. Poor Simon’s pee pee doesn’t work anymore because Stronk Daddy molested him in the ring. Now he curls up in a ball crying in the shower while listening to Sheryl Crow songs. You can call me anything you want Simon it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve never in all of your time in HOW beaten me inside of the ring.

Steve Solex has been too busy playing G.I. Joe in the Ukraine to even focus on the fact that he’s in the War Games match. Motherfucker thinks that just because he’s served means he’s HOW’s version of Rambo. Please, by all means continue this pissing contest you have with Christopher America. Call him a Commie and continue to shove down our throats that you are Mr. Patriotic. In the grand scheme of things when it comes to being a professional wrestler Christopher America beats you in a landslide. HOW Hall of Fame, only back-to-back War Games winner, Former HOW World Champion. And you’ve done what exactly as an HOW wrestler? One tiny reign as HOTv Champion until I beat you for it in your second defense. This current reign as one half of the HOW World Tag Team Champions where again someone else did all the work for both you and Clay. The reality is that Solex is nothing more than Xander Azula with military training. But sure we’ll pretend that this Sgt. Slaughter impersonator actually stands a snowball’s chance in hell of winning War Games.

Stick to your laugh tracks and read some fan mail on the air Steve. Real men are about to be busy being true badasses inside of a steel cage. If you’re lucky, maybe we’ll let you grill up some burgers and hotdogs for us when we’re done. Unless the job of an everyday housewife is too much for you to handle.

Last but not least is our LSD Champion Steve ‘Don’t talk about milk’ Harrison. The man that suddenly thinks he’s hot shit because he’s finally won a singles title. But let’s not shine a light on the fact he beat a man that tucks his tail and runs come War Games time and a man that thought he was playing a serial killer on Broadway. I guess it doesn’t take much for a man to believe that suddenly he’s in the upper echelon of talent here in HOW. You can speak it into the universe and try to manifest it all you want. You got a better chance of going 5 years sober than you do being a top guy in HOW. But it seems that Harrison wants to say that I’m just a puppet because I’m a member of The Board. That I should worry about how people were drafted ahead of me for War Games and yet I still show loyalty.

Yeah, because it’s totally better to be in a group of people that whine for us to play fair than it is to be in a position of power and be surrounded by peers that are on your level of greatness. I find it hilarious he wants to bring up the draft when people who didn’t even have qualifying matches are a part of his match. Speaking of which, didn’t this son of a bitch lose his own qualifying match for War Games? Pot, kettle, bitch. But wait, Harrison doesn’t like me? He knew what I was like even back in the Best Alliance? Well goddamn Scooby, you solved another mystery. See this is what separates the men from the boys. Harrison took this long to win his first singles title because he’s worried about things like being ‘fair’ and making ‘friends’ along the way. I’m not here to make friends, I don’t want to be your buddy. I get paid to punch people in the face and put my boot through the back of their skulls.

I don’t need people to like me to be successful. I don’t need to rebel against the powers that be as an excuse for my own shortcomings. So, by all means step up. You want to claim things are different now because we’re no longer in the Best Alliance and now you can drop me on my head? I recall you trying to do that even when we were in the Best Alliance and got your ass kicked by me. No, go ahead Steve, saying that Lee or any other Best Alliance member held you back from beating me doesn’t have as many holes in it as a slice of Swiss cheese. But fuck this is the same man that talked shit about Conor for weeks but now suddenly wants to hold hands in an effort to beat the Best team. No one needs you to advance past Carey and have their backs. Talented wrestlers go to war and step on other people’s neck to get what they want. And trust me you aren’t talented, ho.

Continue to flap your gums.

Continue to act like there won’t be consequences for the things you say.

Each and every single one of you won’t make it out of Night One of War Games.

You’ll each be an utter disappointment to Conor Fuse and he’ll be all alone when he has to face the members of our team on Night Two.

While you all lick your wounds on the sidelines and scream #RallyConor.

But hey, we’re holding you all back, right?

Not like you all got the chance to step inside of the cage and do something about it.

You’re all just victims.

Only not in the way you want to be.