He hadn't been to many funerals in his life, but this was definitely the smallest.
The actual service was being held in a small room inside the funeral home, cut off from the funerals for people with more loved ones to grieve. The room would feel cramped if there were only a handful of mourners present. Gloria was talking to someone in the corner, surprisingly calm about the entire situation. Stacy and JC sat next to each other in the back row, both dressed in funeral black. The service had not started yet, so there was time to prepare to grieve. JC's wife turned to him with a look of concern.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm better than I was. I think the initial shock is gone."
"Having an outlet immediately after hearing the news probably helped."
"This really isn't the place to talk about that."
"I'm actually okay with that particular incident. You were helping Trent. But you're right, this is not the time."
As if to thank her, he put an arm around her and pulled her in for a brief hug. He wasn't even sure why was here. It was just a matter of paying his respects to the person who gave him his chance to be a wrestler. If not for that, he would have skipped it.
Somehow this tiny room was more depressing than the room right next door where bigger gatherings were held. It was a grim reminder that not everyone leaves this earth beloved by everyone they meet. Some people are surrounded by a few family members and the occasional acquaintance who barely remembered them.
JC remembered Munroe very well. He remembered starting out. He remembered the long nights being forced to perfect simple wrestling holds. He remembered running the ropes until he puked. He remembered the freedom he had to try anything, even high flying maneuvers someone with his body type had no business attempting.
That's not all he remembered. He remembered how his trainer was emotionally abusive to all of his students. He remembered being told he would never succeed. He remembered the arguments over Munroe trying to make a name for himself on JC's back. Jason Munroe was by all accounts a scumbag. If anyone met him and was told he trained JC, suddenly everything about the man who calls himself The Answer would make sense.
"You okay? You're a million miles away right now."
Stacy had her hand on his arm, concerned. He returned the smile she gave him days ago.
"I'm fine. Just remembering old times."
Suddenly the doors to the tiny room shut and it signaled the start of the memorial service. He wasn't nearly as upset as he was when he heard the news. The world was probably a better place without Jason Munroe in it. Now was the time to show respect to the man who gave him the chance to be who he is. JC could call Munroe his creator, but only in the sense that he provided the tools he needed to get his start.
He decided he wouldn't listen to Gloria Munroe or the pastor's eulogies about his former mentor. He didn't need rose-colored speeches about who others thought this man was. He would rely on his own memories.
He would rely on the truth.
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June 6, 2001
He once again stood outside of the same building, only now it was different. Munroe bought out the video store. He bought out the liquor store. The school now took up the entire building. The ring was bigger and joined by a second, smaller ring. The front of the building was clean. The inside looked like a respectable gym. The most notable thing, at least to Joe, was the banner that hung just above the entrance.
DO THE JOB GYM: HOME OF WRESTLING STAR JOE COOL!
He didn't like it, but he had to laugh. Jason Munroe had never known success before in his life. Now his school was booming with a full roster of students. It was the home of a man who in the span of a year managed to win nine titles overall for BTW. His first promotion closed but he knew he was destined to appear in many more, with more success following. He removed his sunglasses and walked inside.
"Holy fucking shit. Look who it is ladies, it's Joe fuckin' Cool!"
He looked at all of the students, about twenty in total. They were all clapping, but not all of them were happy. In fact, Joe thought he saw resentment in the eyes of a few of them. He ignored it, thinking it was all in his head.
"Jason. How's my least favorite trainer in the world?"
"This fuckin' guy. Get over here."
Jason walked up and gave Joe a friendly hug, one that Joe wasn't exactly open to. He was acting way too friendly. He guessed that made sense, considering what having one successful student did for him. He gave him a pat on the back and couldn't help but smile. Joy was infectious and there was a lot of happiness to go around.
"So how do you like the new place?"
"It's...a lot bigger. And clean. I guess you can afford cleaning services now."
Once again, more laughter from Munroe. If nothing else, he was a lot friendlier now that he had some money.
"Why'd you want me to come here, Jason? I actually have a flight to catch for contract negotiations."
"What, I need an excuse to see my favorite student?"
Joe looked at him. He couldn't tell if he was putting up an act for his students (who were all still watching intently) or if he meant it.
"I suppose not. Do you want me to talk to your students or something? Tell them what to expect?"
"Actually, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind looking at something. Step back into my office."
Joe seemed shocked by this.
"You have an office?"
"Yeah, the video store had it before I bought them out. Alright kids, I'm going to go talk with the champ. Jeremy, Oscar, you two work the practice match I taught you. The rest of you, hit the exercise equipment or do drills on the mats. I don't want to see anyone slacking off or you're out of here."
Jason went ahead of Joe and went into his office. Joe looked around to see everyone sullenly doing as they were told. Training here never was fun, but this was pathetic.
"Sorry guys, I'll tell him to lighten up."
There were a few appreciative grumbles but he was mostly ignored. He went back to Munroe's office.
"Not a single one of those guys seems happy with your training regimen."
"That's because they're all weak."
Joe looked at him for a moment as a big toothy grin quickly erased the cold stare on his former trainer's face.
"But not like you! You're a former World champion! Which is why I asked you to come."
He threw a clipboard on the table with several papers attached to it. Joe grabbed it and looked it over. He looked back up and was once again greeted with the same grin. It seemed fake. He didn't like it.
"A commercial? You want me to do a commercial?"
"Yeah! Not just for local TV either, I'm considering buying spots for all of the major cities you visited. You'll be plastered all over it, talking about how great this gym is!"
"Look, Jason..."
"I've already put the money into it. We should be ready to go later this week once my camera guy gets here."
"Munroe. Stop it."
"What?"
"I'm not doing the commercial."
The grin quickly vanished. Munroe stood up and glared at him.
"Look, I'm grateful for all you've done. You gave me my start, you got me my shot at BTW..."
"Exactly, kid! I did all that for you! All I'm asking is for you to say you support my training methods and any student would be happy to have me."
"Jason, I wasn't even happy to have you. You were the closest. I'm sorry, but it's a wonder I managed to win any kind of title at all. All you did was work my body and teach me a few holds. Did you even watch my first couple of months in BTW? I was awful. I lost nearly every match I was in. You didn't teach me any of the things that really mattered. I'm not saying you're awful at your job, but shit, I learned more by doing than I did by learning."
There was silence between them. You could hear someone being dropped to the mat through the wall. Joe felt bad even refusing the offer, but he had his principles. Jason decided to get the conversation going again.
"You ungrateful little shit."
Joe expected that. He stood up and looked down at his former mentor, who was a good foot shorter than he was.
"I'm not the same punk kid that came in here three years ago, Jason. I'm not going to let you insult me. We're done here."
"After all I've done for you, you're going to come back here and not only insult me, but refuse to pay me back? Being a star must have really went to your head. You would be nothing if it weren't for me."
"You're right. You gave me my start. That's why I'm fine with you plastering my face on that huge banner out there. I don't particularly like it, but you can do it. But if you expect me to film a commercial and endorse your training, you're crazy. It was reckless, dangerous and it almost ruined my career before it got started."
Suddenly, his trainer spat right in his face. It was disgusting. Joe had no more words. He felt anger rising inside of him. It wanted him to grab this little nobody by the neck and launch him into the wall. This anger bothered him, but it was fleeting. He was able to ignore it, as most normal people can when they get flashes of rage. Instead, he decided to openly insult Munroe now. He grabbed the contract for the commercial, tore it from the clipboard and wiped the spittle from his face. He tossed it aside.
"Like I said, we're done here. Goodbye Jason. Thanks for everything. Good luck keeping your school afloat."
Joe turned his back on Munroe and left the office. As he walked through the gym, he noticed students trying to hide that they were eavesdropping on the conversation. He was a few feet from the door when he heard Munroe begin to yell at them. He kept walking to avoid a confrontation.
"Let this motherfucker be a lesson to the rest of you! That is one of the most ungrateful assholes you will ever see! Hank, did I tell you to stop lifting those weights? I don't care if you're not used to how heavy it is yet. YOU WILL DO AS I SAY IF YOU WANT A CAREER."
Joe stepped out the door and looked in his pocket for something. It was a box of cigarettes. His girlfriend at the time, Mandy, had been urging him to quit. He would a few years later, but right now it was a habit he kept for stressful situations like this. He pulled the lone remaining cigarette out of the box and tossed the box aside.
He hadn't even brought his lighter up to his lips yet when he heard a massive thud and the screams of several different people at once. The cigarette fell out of his mouth as he quickly went back inside to see what happened.
It was a horror show. Hank, the same student that was there on his first day, was laying on a bench with a 300 lb barbell draped over him. One 150 lb side of it was on the ground, with the cement floor cracked where it fell. There was blood spurting up from Hank's mouth and his chest was already various shades of black and violet. Some people stood in shock, including Munroe. Others were scrambling to find their cell phones. Joe raced over to the scene of the accident.
"What the fuck are you doing back in here?"
"I think the better question is what the fuck happened to Hank? For fuck's sake, somebody call 911!"
Joe grabbed the barbell and lifted it from Hank's chest before tossing it aside. It once again cracked the floor and rolled to a stop about a foot away. Another student walked up to check on Hank as yet another spoke to the dispatcher on the phone.
"Seriously, what happened?"
"You got no right..."
Joe glared at him as he held Hank's head steady. Blood from his apparent internal injuries seeped onto his hand and he didn't notice.
"He was lifting and he dropped the barbell. I don't know. You know Hank..."
A younger student, no older than Joe's younger brother, spoke up. It looked like he was the one who called 911.
"That's bullshit. He was already tired and then you got in his face and started yelling at him. You kept pushing him until his damn arms gave out."
Munroe stood up and looked at the student and Joe saw a sneer appear on his face. He couldn't decide if Jason was angry that this kid spoke out of turn or if he told on him. He didn't care.
"Jason, what the fuck is wrong with you?"
"He could have put that down at any time. Nobody forced him to lift it."
"Except you. You push everyone too hard around here, with no regard for their safety. And now look at what happened."
Hank was still lucid and no longer coughing. Joe had no idea what was wrong with him, but he considered it a good sign. The younger student walked back around.
"They said paramedics will be here in about ten minutes."
"Okay, then everyone needs to get their stories straight. Hank was reckless and didn't stop no matter what anyone said."
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Please, Joe. You were here too. I haven't had a chance to buy new insurance for this place yet. If there are any investigations I'll lose it all."
Joe stood up and felt anger boiling inside of him. Normally he'd ignore it, or use it in the ring. There wasn't a ring now. There was no reason to ignore it.
"I don't care what happens to you. Isn't that what you taught me?"
He punched Munroe square in the jaw and stormed outside. It would be the last time he spoke to him one on one.
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April 1, 2016
The service was over and everyone left. Only Gloria, JC and Stacy remained and the ladies were off talking among themselves. JC was one of the pallbearers, mostly because there wasn't anyone else. Munroe had no sons. He only did it for Gloria, which is the same reason he didn't throw the casket to the ground.
Hank ended up lucky, all things considered. His sternum was broken, his lungs were bruised and there were some slight rib fractures. He made a full recovery and filed a civil lawsuit. In addition to the various fines Munroe received for criminal negligence, his business was done. JC was there to see it happen, as he testified against him in both trials.
He stared down into the hole where his former mentor lay. He felt a hand lightly touch his elbow.
"Gloria had to go rest. She said she's too old to be standing around all day."
"I think the same could be said for everyone here."
She glanced down where JC was looking and saw the same oak casket.
"I guess there weren't that many people that wanted to pay their respects."
"It was more than he deserved."
"Does it still bother you, after all these years?"
"You know, I thought it would. But I think it's time to bury my issues along with the man that caused them. I've got no reason to hold on to that."
It was the truth. He was done with Jason once the legal system was. Jason tried to call and get money out of him but it never happened.
"The only thing I regret is that Gloria had to live with him for so long."
"I was talking with her about that. Apparently he was a completely different person around her, especially after he lost everything. They actually split up for a while but he convinced her to come back and things were fine after that."
"Good for her. She was always good to me, even after I screwed her husband over."
JC scooped up a handful of dirt and tossed it against the smooth, flat surface of the casket, bidding his creator farewell.
"Let's get out of here. I'm sick of being around dead people."
Hank ended up lucky, all things considered. His sternum was broken, his lungs were bruised and there were some slight rib fractures. He made a full recovery and filed a civil lawsuit. In addition to the various fines Munroe received for criminal negligence, his business was done. JC was there to see it happen, as he testified against him in both trials.
He stared down into the hole where his former mentor lay. He felt a hand lightly touch his elbow.
"Gloria had to go rest. She said she's too old to be standing around all day."
"I think the same could be said for everyone here."
"I guess there weren't that many people that wanted to pay their respects."
"It was more than he deserved."
"Does it still bother you, after all these years?"
"You know, I thought it would. But I think it's time to bury my issues along with the man that caused them. I've got no reason to hold on to that."
It was the truth. He was done with Jason once the legal system was. Jason tried to call and get money out of him but it never happened.
"The only thing I regret is that Gloria had to live with him for so long."
"I was talking with her about that. Apparently he was a completely different person around her, especially after he lost everything. They actually split up for a while but he convinced her to come back and things were fine after that."
"Good for her. She was always good to me, even after I screwed her husband over."
JC scooped up a handful of dirt and tossed it against the smooth, flat surface of the casket, bidding his creator farewell.
"Let's get out of here. I'm sick of being around dead people."
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Drake Munday and I will always have our careers tied together. I find that amusing and strange. I was in the business for almost a decade before I came to OWF and no matter what I do, I can't escape him. In only my third OWF match, I put him down. Now it's my second match back and here we are again. This time, I think I'll make sure he stays down. I could say it's not personal like I did with Chaos, but I think we both know that's not true. Quest is too important. What I do to you isn't personal only in the sense that I have no problem with you. My issue is you're in my way. I can't have that. Not now. Not with this much on the line.
Drake, as someone who taught you how to succeed in this business, I think I need to tell you a few truths about yourself. Truths you already know to be true but deny to everyone else. You hide behind a mask because you can't come to terms with who you are. You're a monster. You're like me. How do I know this?
Because I taught you how to be monstrous. I'm your creator.
There's a history lesson for you. I was Drake Munday's mentor. He recognized who the best in OWF was and he asked me to train him. I did, in my own particular way. I'm sure you'll deny it, Drake. I'm sure you'll proclaim you're better than I ever was and I've taught you nothing. But, haven't I? Are you not more vicious than you ever were when you started? You can deny it all you want. I see it in every action you take. Deep down inside, behind that mask, you know it's true.
But let's talk about that mask. That mask allows you to be what you are and still look at yourself in the mirror. You can say it was the mask. 'It wasn't Drake Munday, it was Redemption.' That mask is directly related to your success and the heinous crimes you committed to get it.
I don't need a mask to succeed. Never have, never will.
My accolades speak for themselves.
My atrocities speak for themselves.
I have a proposition for you. Come to Addiction as Drake Munday. Face me one last time as my student. Show me that you've surpassed your master as you no doubt believe. I want you to accept who you really are and put away your silly Halloween mask.
Don't worry, Drake. I don't expect you to do it. You're a coward. Cowards hide behind masks. You'll show up in the mask, you'll rely on this persona you've crafted and you will fail. If you come out as yourself, you'll still fail, but only because I won't be denied. But at least you'll have your dignity. At least you'll embrace who you really are. No more hiding. Only then can you truly achieve redemption.
As for me, your name is a concept that's out of my grasp. There is no saving me. The only way for me to move forward and win Quest is to deny myself salvation and accept my fate. The only way for me to move forward is by hurting you. I have to win. I have to prove that I'm the best. There's no other way.
Say farewell to your hopes and dreams, Drake.
The boogeyman is here to take them away.
