"If you have to wake up early, could you do it somewhere else?"
He sat up and glanced down at the love of his life trying to sleep next to him. Retirement was good to JC. He had everything you could possibly want when you completely vanish out of the spotlight. His wife, Stacy, was his second marriage, but who doesn't have multiple marriages these days? He didn't think it would ever be possible, but he was happy. Somehow, this bitter man became happy. And yet that bitterness was bubbling inside of him again.
For now, he chose to ignore it.
Stacy wasn't a wrestling fan. She knew that JC used to be a wrestler, but she hadn't seen a second of his career. Perhaps in the past, it would have been too big of a difference to overcome. As far as JC was concerned, it didn't matter now. The fact that Stacy wasn't a wrestling fan was how he knew it was legitimate.
She wasn't a ring rat like his first wife. She was just a self-described fitness junkie he met and clicked with. It happened almost immediately after he gave everything up. Some might call it happenstance. He would have called it fate, if he believed in that sort of thing.
He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her temple. She moaned and threw the covers over her head. Marriage.
"I'm going to go check my emails again."
"Whatever, just let me sleep."
"I love you too."
He let his feet hit the cold floor and he went into the den.
His neck was incredibly stiff this morning, but that wasn't surprising. Even close to a decade after his surgery, the chill of a cold morning could still make him wish he chose a different line of work. If it wasn't the neck, it was the jaw he broke or the deep scar along his bicep. Something always ached on him these days. Time has a way of catching up with everyone.
He hoped he was still several paces ahead of it.
The laptop turned on with a barely-audible hum. He sat down and opened his email. There it was, plain as day.
From: Outsider Wrestling Federation
To: JC
Subject: Re: Quest For The Best
This was only the latest in a long string of mostly one-sided correspondence. JC wasn't even sure how they got his address. Sure, he had a gym now, but this was his personal email. Maybe his brother gave it to them. He'd have to ask the next time they were forced into the same room together.
The first official request came in several months ago. He ignored it. The next one arrived not long after, once again asking him to come back for a run. He ignored that too. When emails weren't enough, a temporary contract was mailed to his house. He sent it back, with a polite refusal note attached. That should have been enough. He went months without hearing anything, and then he learned what was happening.
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"Did you hear the news?"
JC was doing some minor stretches in the gym. He planned to do a full workout, but when you're approaching forty, you need to stretch first. He opened the gym three years ago with Stacy. Not as many people showed up as he would have liked. Gyms like this one were a dime a dozen and business wasn't exactly booming. He was approached by Michael, an avid wrestling fan and one of the few personal trainers he had under his employ.
"I hope this isn't an excuse why you can't hold your fitness class. I don't care how lazy your students get."
"What? No, I just came by to ask if you heard about what the OWF is doing."
"What did I say about mentioning that place again? I'm not going back. They haven't even contacted me."
That was a blatant lie, but he was out of the spotlight for a reason. This wasn't the first time the conversation had come up and he was tired of treading familiar ground. Either way, it seemed like Michael completely ignored him.
"They're holding the Quest for the Best tournament again and it's the biggest one yet! There's a commercial and everything!"
Mike pulled out his smartphone and loaded up Youtube. It was right there. "QUEST FOR THE BEST". The ads showed a variety of people he hadn't heard of and several that he did.
Chris Green. Moxie Roxie. Freedom Kid. Names from the past. A catalog of "who's who" and "who did what" in OWF history.
There were also a wide variety of faces he'd never seen before. A blonde with an irrational hatred for her own husband. A violent man with his face painted like some Lovecraftian creature. The OWF had definitely changed since its last incarnation.
Conspicuous by his absence in a list of potential names was a man that didn't want to be there. And yet, there was some part of him that felt insulted. A voice deep inside that he hadn't listened to in five years.
Five years.
"So, are you going to be in it?"
He looked up into the eager eyes of this 22-year-old kid. Michael just graduated college and wanted to eventually be a professional wrestler. He knew who JC was but usually dropped the issue when asked, because that was in the past. The same past that was now in his face via a 5-by-2.5-inch screen. JC frowned. Not the angry scowl he would later exhibit on television, but just a contemplative frown.
"They haven't contacted me," he repeated.
He noticed his tone was quieter and hoped Michael didn't.
While it was a lie, it was also true to an extent. They had sent him emails, but the OWF wanted him to make a couple of non-wrestling appearances, maybe a match or two. He read the outline. He knew exactly what they wanted. A push to the future, with some old names added to draw eyes to the younger talent. He didn't see the point, so he sent a brief reply to let them know he'd moved on.
This was different. They were giving a guy named CokeKid a chance to win such a huge tournament but never considered him? They might as well have walked into his home and set fire to his trophy room for all the respect that showed to his achievements.
Michael let a moment of silence pass between them before speaking up again, drawing the veteran out of his daze.
"That's a shame. I've looked up some of your old matches. You could kill it in there."
"The key word there is old. It's best to go out on top, and that's what I did. I have no desire to go back out there. Clearly, they don't expect or want me in their little tournament anyway."
He could tell Michael was only half paying attention now. Once he heard no he was trying to step away from the grizzled veteran complaining about "this business" and "how times have changed". Sometimes he hated these little punks who claimed to love a business they clearly had no respect for.
Sometimes he wanted to wring their little necks.
"Get to work. Your class starts in ten minutes."
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Now he stared at the screen of his laptop and was once again incredulous. He had sent management a simple inquiry about the tournament and if he was considered. Their response was insulting.
From: Outsider Wrestling Federation
To: JC
Subject: Re: Quest For The Best
You turned down the contract. Even if you hadn't, we have no intention of bringing in another older talent for a tournament this big. If you'd like to reconsider the original offer, we could fly you in to be a guest for the matches and raise the hand of the winner.
Chase Johnson, President of OWF
"Older talent." "Guest". "Raise the hand of the winner" These were insulting terms for a company he made money for. Johnson was trying to get the last laugh, no doubt. That's when the voice inside of him began to talk again. "Let's accept that offer and show them what they're missing," it said. "Make them pay."
He glanced down at the contract, which had a bold "SIGNED COPY" stamp on the front. Yes, he accepted the offer. Yes, he would be at tonight's Addiction, his first since 2009. He wasn't sure how far it would go from there.
He closed the laptop and went back to bed before he could let that voice inside give him the answer.
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How long has it been?
Five years. Five great years.
It's actually been six if we're talking exclusively about the OWF. I didn't miss this place. In fact, I thought the OWF was dead. It should be. I guess reboots are the "in" thing these days. Let's drag an old property out of the mothballs and see how much blood we can still drain from it.
I have a lot of blood left.
I never planned on coming back. Why would I? This place is in the past. I'm going to level with you, because this is a story you won't believe. I actually found something resembling happiness.
That's right. Me. Happy.
As it turns out all I had to do was abandon my lifelong dream to do it. It was actually easier than I thought it'd be. I just pictured a life free of worrying about how disgusting this industry has become. Let's face it. Things are worse now than they were when I started my agenda. This business is a meat grinder that's destroyed men with less conviction than I had. If you're not careful, it'll grind you up and spit you out.
Instead of getting processed with the rest of the the cattle, I chose to vanish. In spite of what I said on Addiction two weeks ago, it wasn't for your benefit. It was for my own. The OWF and NLW both fell apart in spite of my best efforts to save them. I was fighting a losing battle trying to change things from within, when I really should have been taking a 'scorched earth' approach. Perhaps things would be different. They say it's better to burn out than to fade away. If I'm going to burn out, then I'm going to take as many of you with me as I can in the blaze.
Let me remind you just what it is you're dealing with here. I'm JC. I used to be a pandering fan favorite but decided this business deserved better. I went on to destroy people. I put Moxie Roxie in traction. I dominated the tag team division with Trent Steel. I am a Rogue. I am the Answer. I'm the longest-reigning NLW world champion ever. I don't care about your ratings, your PPV buyrates or your ticket sales.
I'm here to hurt people. That's what I do better than anyone.
I've perpetrated acts of violence on my own that it takes an entire society to pull off now.
I once had a deep, undying love for this industry. She was my mistress. Then something happened. She changed. She got bloated, diseased and riddled with cancerous tumors. I tried my best to save her. I attacked the symptoms but was never able to cure her. Today, she's on life-support and there's only one man who can pull the plug. Perhaps she can be reborn into something beautiful. Perhaps she will be a rotting corpse six feet under, devoured by insects. The only way to know for sure is to kill her. Place a pillow over her face and watch her body involuntarily spasm as she tries to cling to life.
It's for the best.
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He was now in a private room. Whisked away so that he could be a surprise. Well of course. If anyone saw him, the surprise would be ruined and management doesn't want their precious show to have any problems.
"You're going to be the biggest problem they've ever had," the voice said.
It was louder over the past week than it's been in years. He didn't actually hear a voice, that's just the name he gave to a part of him he thought died five years ago. Maybe it did die. Maybe he was just haunted by the ghost of who he used to be.
A ghost with unfinished business.
"I can't believe you're going through with this. I thought you were done with wrestling? You told me that this business used to really piss you off. I just don't want to see you come home angry because of whatever problems you have with the jerks here."
He stood up and embraced her. Even if she wasn't a fan of what he used to do, she was still supportive in her own way. It was nice having someone by his side for occasions like this, but now wasn't the time for marriage. Who he was in the ring was far removed from who he could be outside of it.
"Yeah, that's exactly the problem. Even when I'm out they piss me off. So it's best to face my problems head on. But don't worry, I'm not going to let this place get in my head again. It's just business, you know that."
"I guess you're right. I just worry. At least you're only here to make an appearance."
"Well, we'll see how things go."
"Joe..."
"Stacy, I don't know what I'm going to do whenever I decide to show up. This could turn into a full-time gig or I could just say hi and vanish. It depends."
That was a lie, and one he would probably regret telling. He knew exactly what he was going to do. He was going to find a victim and destroy them. The company wouldn't like it. Stacy wouldn't like it. His ghost would.
It would cherish being let out again.
"I have your back, whatever you decide to do. But that doesn't mean I have to like what you do."
"I understand that."
"So when do you think they'll call you to go out there?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe I should look into that."
He stood up, rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck and reached for the door. A smaller hand laid on his wrist, gently.
"Aren't you supposed to be back here in case someone sees you?"
He glanced over in her direction and simply smirked.
"I've never been one for doing what the OWF wants me to do."
He grabbed her hand, gave it a kiss, then exited before she could protest.
This was really happening. Five years away from the business and he was going to make a huge impact tonight. Someone was going to get hurt. That decision was made before he signed the contract. But who would he choose?
He looked in both directions, trying to make up his mind where to go. The show had already started, so most of the talent and staff were confined to the other side of the arena. He had to find someone to hurt, preferably someone on camera. You can't send a message if no one is there to hear it.
That's when he saw him.
There was a man near catering, helping himself to a bottled water. He had no idea who this man was, but he was convinced he was a member of the roster. He had a build that you're used to seeing when you travel the road and beat other human beings up for a living. He certainly wasn't a part of the road crew, at any rate.
JC stepped back so the anonymous wrestler wouldn't see him. The man grabbed his water and walked in the opposite direction, with JC following close behind. He noticed him step into a room and shut the door. JC stopped in front of it and read the name. "Adam Wilson". He briefly stretched out his leg. He planned on booting this man in the face. When you plan on getting physical and you're pushing forty, you need to stretch first.
JC knocked on the door and waited for his victim to answer. He didn't know who this Adam Wilson was, but he was about to give him the worst night of his life.
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It was finally over.
JC stopped in front of his private room. He looked down at his hand reaching for the door and noticed blood on it. He removed a cloth from his pocket, cleaned his hand then discarded the evidence.
He felt unsteady. It wasn't exhaustion, just a definite feeling of nausea. He guessed it was the sudden rush of adrenaline he had from the beating he just gave Wilson. It was, after all, the first time he delivered a beating like that in a long time. Or maybe it was just because he knew the hard part was moments away.
He took a deep breath and it passed.
"Here we go."
He opened the door and saw Stacy with a look of horror at her face. The TV was on. She glanced at him.
"Joe, what the fuck was that?"
"Listen..."
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?"
She was looking at him and he felt as though she wasn't seeing the person she married. It was like they were strangers, seeing each other for the first time. He couldn't tell if she was afraid or angry or both, but he could see her trying to stop the shaking in her hands by clenching her fist.
"That...is what I got paid to do."
"You said you were a wrestler, you didn't say anything about hurting people."
"Wrestlers hurt each other every day."
She stood up and got right in his face. It obviously wasn't fear he noticed earlier. He had to admit, he loved her a little more for the fire she was showing right now.
"Don't act like I'm stupid. That was not what wrestlers do. That's not what you were asked here to do. You could have killed that man!"
"We are trained to take abuse like that. That's what this company paid me to do five years ago. It doesn't matter what they wanted me to do now."
"There's no amount of training that could help you have your head stomped into the ground. That was fucking assault, Joe, and you know it."
She studied his face for some type of reaction and JC didn't budge.
"No, you know what I think it is?"
She was now even closer to him. She had to crane her neck up to look into his eyes but that didn't bother her. She was angry and she was going to let him have it. He decided to take it, because he expected a similar reaction.
"You let your ego take over, that's what you did. I saw what you said. Poor Joe, didn't want to be left out of this bullshit tournament. I thought you were done with this. So what, now you are going to assault people for a paycheck? Should I expect to be married to a felon within the next few weeks?"
"Anything's better than being trotted out like some relic and not being shown proper respect."
"Nice. So it is about ego. Why do you even care? You were out!"
"BECAUSE I'M THE BEST!"
He didn't mean to yell. He wasn't even sure that he did. He thought maybe something else inside him did. However, it was out there now. He yelled at his wife for the first time. Another thing he'd hold this company responsible for.
In an attempt to correct his mistake, his voice went to the other extreme. He was quiet. Meek. Almost like a child who was apologizing after being scolded. It was so incredibly unlike him that he was surprised it was happening.
"Not Jesse Williams. Not The Phoenix. Not Greg Jackson. Me. I'm the best."
There it was. While he may still believe everything he said, the bitter truth he didn't want to admit was out there. He stood there naked. He was showing too much vulnerability and he hated it. When he looked back at her and saw a faint glimmer of pity, he wanted to vomit. He took a deep breath and explained himself.
"You're right. I was out. I was...I am happy. But I cannot tolerate being disrespected by this organization yet again by not being offered a single spot in what is probably their biggest tournament yet. Not again. This company took a lot out of me and I couldn't tolerate another injustice. I couldn't...be told that I didn't have it anymore. So there it is."
It was like he could visibly see her guard dropping. She didn't expect to win the argument so quickly. Not over something this serious.
"Part of me lives for this business and always will. I didn't want to admit it, but there it is. So you're right again. It is about ego. Maybe I took it too far, and maybe it wasn't right, but I was letting out years of frustration."
That's when she did something neither of them expected. She wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed him. It was a kiss of utter support. Of someone who saw through his bullshit and got to the person inside. Someone who knew him inside and out. He returned the favor.
"I don't agree with what you did or said tonight. I hope you know that. That..."
She gestured at the TV, which was still on. Shaun Stewart vs Robert Zodiac was already in progress.
"That is not the man I married. That was disgusting and disturbing. I don't know if I'll ever be able to forget seeing that. And I sure as fuck don't like being yelled at. That stops now."
"I know."
"I realize how passionate you are about this business. I know you probably meant every word you said out there."
"I did."
She held up a finger to his lips. She was trying to maintain her composure. He couldn't decide if it was for his sake or hers.
"I'm not finished. I don't like the Joe I saw out there tonight. You could have crippled that man or worse. I think it goes without saying I just saw the worst you had to offer. But, I've done some things I'm not proud of and you supported me. You've seen me at my worst."
She began to tense up a little more and he saw the wheels turning in her head. She was remembering the past. Her past. Their past. All of it. He scanned her face and saw her briefly glance away, as if she had something to hide. Her past issues were always a sore spot and she didn't like talking about them. JC made a motion to place a hand on her shoulder but she swatted it away in a casual manner. It wasn't spiteful, just a way of telling him she had more to say. She rubbed her arm and looked away again, as if she'd rather be anywhere else than in this room having this conversation. At least, that's what JC assumed. Sometimes he had a hard time reading her.
"I will continue to support you if you want to continue down this road. But don't ever come back here and try to feed me any bullshit about it. You tell them whatever you need to, but you tell me the truth. I won't try to understand it and I sure as fuck won't like it, but I will support you. Don't ever expect me to enjoy seeing you hurt people."
"That sounds fair. We should probably get out of here before we get mobbed."
"Don't think I'm done talking about this with you."
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
He could not love anyone more in that moment than he did Stacy. In that moment he was sure they could move past this. He knew she was still mortified by what she saw. He knew that she incredibly angry with him, but she was still standing by his side and willing to accept the horrible thing he just did. Marriage.
He held out his hand and she placed hers inside of it. They quickly departed the room before anyone else could try to question him.
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I'll say a lot of things now that I'm back. I have said a lot of things. I still want this company to fall. I still want to hurt as many people as possible. I still believe in every cause I championed five years ago when Trent Steel and I ran roughshod over both the OWF and the NLW. However, I am a professional wrestler with the same desire as anyone else to prove just how good I still am. Whatever I may say, it's still true. But so is that simple fact.
I am a wrestler.
I am the best wrestler.
I have to prove myself, because evidently some of you have forgotten. Even management seemed to forget who I am. I'm not the smiling man that entered OWF. I terrorized this promotion for years and brought the best to their knees.
Now that I'm back, the story will be exactly the same. I will be just as brutal and just as vicious as ever. The audience will hate me and the wrestlers will hate me. That's okay. Nothing's changed. I am still who I've always been. I'll prove I'm the best. I'll tear this company down brick by brick. I'll put people in the hospital and I'll love every minute of it. But never forget that I am a wrestler and I am damn good at what I do.
When I found out about this year's Quest for the Best tournament, I knew I had to be involved. They saw things differently, so I had no choice. Now, they don't have a choice either. I had to injure a man, perhaps end his career, just for the chance to compete, but I'm in. Honestly, I wasn't paying attention to how much damage I was doing. Would you pay attention to the tree branches blocking your path? No, you break them up and toss them out of your way.
I don't even know who Adam Wilson is. I didn't look at his profile, I didn't watch a single minute of footage. He is the unfortunate first of many and the only reason he was first is because he was there. That could have been anyone going to the hospital. It could have been your world champion. It could have been Moxie again just for the hell of it. I didn't care. I decided to make my move and Wilson was the body in front of me. I don't care about any of you. If I can do that to someone I know nothing and feel nothing about, imagine what I'll do to someone who actually stands against me?
So simply because of who I chose, I'm the #19 seed in the tournament. That's okay. It's not the first time people doubted me and it won't be the last. Let's face it. #19 is a hell of a lot better than this company's plans to keep me out entirely. My road to the top begins at Campus Chaos against a man called Chaos. Like Adam Wilson, I know nothing about him. Like Adam Wilson, I don't care. He's just a body. He's a pile of deadwood to be cleared from my path so I can go to places I need to be.
Chaos, I'm not sure what kind of fight you thought you had when Wilson was your opponent, but trust me, I'm a completely different fight. Because I'm not a heartless man, I'll let you know that I have nothing against you. How could I? I don't know you. You could be part of the problem or you could be like me. I don't expect to dominate you, especially since we're the same size and have similar styles. But deadwood can give you trouble too if there's a lot of it. My goals and viewpoint remain the same. I will break you and clear you from my path. It's not personal. It can't be, because I feel nothing.
While you may use "chaos" as your namesake, I am both the definition and the antithesis of that word. I seek to bring order to a lawless world by personifying the disorder that rules it. You're not simply facing a wrestler at Campus Chaos. Yes, I am a wrestler. I'm one of the best you'll ever have the privilege of sharing a squared circle with. However, I'm also a man on a mission. I pray to no angels and I don't believe in redemption. The only thing I believe in is my cause. It's more than a revolution. It's the total annihilation of everything that came before to pave the way for something new and beautiful.
You'll all get to see it, because the annihilation will be televised.
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It was late now. The clock read 1 AM, long past the end of the show. JC looked at himself in the mirror. He was never one for vanity but he wanted to get a good look at the man set to make his return to professional wrestling. He and Stacy were in a hotel room not far from where he claimed his first victim. She was able to sleep.
He wasn't.
Instead he examined at the body of the wrestler who took a lot of damage over the years. Not only was he starting to show his age, but he also had a variety of scars. Surgery scars. Scars from being wounded in the ring. He wasn't quite the road map that others were but he picked up his fair share of mementos during his journey. At least he could still walk. At least he could still perform.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Stacy let out a soft moan and turned over. He grabbed it and saw he had a text message.
Call me, asswipe.
He didn't bother to put on a shirt. He stepped out into the hallway to make the call. It rang a few times before he heard it pick up.
"You son of a bitch."
He heard Trent Steel laugh from the other end. If the bloodlust inside of him could ever be personified, it would look a lot like Trent Steel. At least, the Trent Steel of old. Trent was trying to be a new man now. JC wasn't entirely sure if it would stick, but he would support him nonetheless. Friends were hard to come by in wrestling and Trent was someone he liked having around.
"Hey Asshat. Why the fuck didn't you tell me that you were coming back? I had to find out like everyone else. You make a grown man question our friendship a bit..."
Trent laughed again. Clearly someone was happy that JC was back. He was probably the only one.
"If I told you, then I'd have to tell DJ, and you know he can't keep his mouth shut."
"...Yeah. He's getting married soon. He's hoping he can at least maybe be on crutches down the aisle."
There was a sadness in Trent's voice now that JC wasn't used to. A mutual friend, Dude Job, had been paralyzed by Trent's nephew Sebastian months before. He was close to returning then, but was assured that Trent would take care of it. Now he regretted that decision.
"I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner. That brat Sebastian is definitely a target now."
"I would hold off on that if I were you. Not to say you can't handle him. It's just...let's get your rust off before you go worrying about the kid who DJ and I trained. He'd relish the chance to use you to get into my head like he did with DJ."
"If you say so. But I watched the show tonight. I wasn't impressed."
"Against Lucy. I wouldn't be surprised if he lost deliberately just to make my life a nightmare for the next round. He's a vindictive little shit. Speaking of vindictive little shits. How are you? How's it going with the lady?"
"Funny you should mention that. Stacy saw what I did to Wilson and she didn't like it. She..."
He moved further down the hall the avoid his wife overhearing him. She was a light sleeper, and he didn't really want to see that look of pain in her eyes again.
"She was really shaken by the whole thing."
"Yeah. Jenn did the same thing when she realized how bad I was after she woke up from that coma. She got use to it after a while though. It's kinda hard after being retired to know what's gonna upset the family when you gotta be you, you know?"
"I hope you're right. She's calm now but she looked at me like I was a different person. I didn't like it."
He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, then quickly changed the subject. Tonight was not the night for deep conversation.
"So I've got a match at Campus Chaos now."
"Yeah. You got Chaos, right? The irony is not lost on me, by the way."
"Oh yeah, such an inspired name. I don't know a lot about him but there's no way I'm leaving that ring without a win."
"He's a tough guy fighter. Hit him hard and keep hitting him. He can take a good amount of punishment before he slows down. Work on your cardio and you should be able to outlast him. Rope a dope the son of a bitch."
"I'm used to guys being smaller, but my size 16 is the great equalizer. Anyway, I think we need to meet up when I'm in Oregon for the PPV. We haven't really had a chance to catch up since the wedding."
"Yeah yeah, you big-footed goofy-looking bastard. You sure your wife is gonna let us hang out after that lovely speech I gave at the wedding?"
"I told her you were drunk. She seemed okay after that."
"When have I not been drunk?"
"Yes, you're a functioning alcoholic, but she doesn't have to know that. At any rate, she'll probably be with me to see my first match back."
"Excellent I look up to catching up with her and I guess you. Just do me a favor Joe."
"What's that?"
"There is this thing called deodorant. You rub it under your arms. Maybe around your neck. Maybe wherever your cro magnon face sweats, I don't know. For God's sake, put it on."
Trent laughed on other end, happy with himself for giving his former tag partner grief once again.
"See ya, knucklehead!"
He heard the line go dead before he could reply.
"You son of a bitch."
Talking with her about what he did was the hard part. It only got easier from here. Hurting people was something he found very easy to do. He just let himself get lost in the moment. The fact that it was so easy bothered him. It bothered him a lot. He forced his feelings of guilt out of his head and crawled into bed with his wife. She turned over and opened her eyes halfway.
"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."
"Where'd you go?"
"Trent called. He saw that I was back and wanted to be the first to welcome me."
"That's nice. Maybe he can keep an eye on you."
"I think he's got enough to worry about. Let's talk about wrestling tomorrow. I think we could both use some rest."
"Good idea."
Her last two words came in the middle of a yawn and she fell asleep immediately after. JC watched her for a moment then turned onto his back to stare at the ceiling. He knew he needed to sleep, but still couldn't make it happen. His mind was ablaze with a myriad of disquieting thoughts. He wondered if he would ever be able to get a good night's sleep now that he was back in the OWF.
That little voice inside of JC simply chuckled.
