June 1, 2016
"I don't think the Inner Circle is breaking up, but I think they might be regretting letting that sociopath join them."
"Once you cross that line, Joe, once you step over that threshold and you find that all of your loved ones are gone... when you're all alone JC... good luck finding your way back."
"You know... normal! Why can't you just be normal?"
"My last birthday in OWF was the day my brother died."
"I'm trying to save you from fucking up."
JC heard voices again. Not the usual voice that comes along with his violent urges, but the voices of his friend, family and co-workers. Comments that were said about him or to him. Everyone had a different point of view about who he was and what he was doing. Now he was voluntarily seeking the opinion of a total stranger on the advice of someone who didn't like him very much.
He was honestly amazed he was able to get an appointment this quickly. Not every psychiatrist is willing to take on a new patient with only a day's notice. He looked at the sign on the door of the lobby, which told him this was office of one Jonathan Fuller, MD. It was a new practice, located in a medical building near Jersey City Medical Center. He didn't want to be here, but if he wanted to save his marriage, this had to happen. As it was, he had to squeeze in an appointment before he went to Japan in a day's time. It was a hectic schedule, even for him.
The difference between the condemning and concerned voices he heard now and his usual companion was that these were simply memories. He was willing himself to remember all of the lodged complaints hidden in the walls of his subconscious. He was doing it not to torture himself, but as motivation to remain in this office for this appointment. Whether it was Michelle's threats or Stacy's ultimatums, it didn't matter. He wasn't here by choice.
"Mr. Lee? Could you come this way, please?"
The receptionist had opened the door to the back and was waiting on him to get up and go inside. Considering all of the effort they likely had to put forth to accommodate his truncated time frame, he thought it'd be best if he didn't keep her waiting.
The first thing he noticed about Dr. Fuller's office was that it looked nothing like the offices he saw in TV programs. Perhaps because it was a fairly new practice, he just hadn't had time to make it his own yet. The walls were bare, save for a single doctorate degree that hung proudly over his seat. He imagined there were more that had yet to be included. There was a brown leather seat for the doctor, but everything else was a mess. Piles of books on psychiatry, various scraps of paperwork and boxes with more of the same cluttered the room. Clearly the unpacking process hadn't concluded. There was also a couch underneath a window. He imagined that it wouldn't be easy for some patients to avoid distractions that way.
"Just have a seat there on the couch and he'll join you in a minute."
He did as he was told. He was amused by the entire situation. He knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn't crazy. After all, if there were anything wrong with him, wouldn't someone have noticed it before now? He was forty, after all. He'd been wrestling for sixteen years. Nearly half of his life had been spent in front of television cameras. Surely if there had been an inkling of mental illness it would have been discovered by now.
Are you sure about that?
As if on cue, the voice spoke up. That was something he didn't need to hear. He was convinced it was a manifestation of his anger, but he wasn't particularly angry right now. In fact, he felt surprisingly good, although he was annoyed about his current situation. It's not like he wanted to boot the doctor or anything. He was fine.
Isn't that something crazy people say?
For some reason the voice was serving as an antagonist today, needling him about things he should feel anxious about. He wasn't going to let it affect him. Maybe he should tell the doctor about it. Maybe the doctor would agree with his diagnosis. He had no medical degree, but had a pretty good idea of who he was and who he wasn't. He certainly wasn't someone with a mental illness. That was weak. JC was not weak.
Dr. Fuller had fortunate timing. The door opened and he saw a younger man, likely in his mid-thirties, step forward. he had horn-rimmed glasses which only served to show off his eyes above his dark black beard. He saw a smile in the middle of that beard and couldn't decide if it was fake or not. Maybe Fuller was relieved to have what was probably his first patient.
"Hi, Joseph. My name is Dr. Jonathan Fuller. I'm sure you saw my name on the door."
JC stood up and shook the good doctor's hand. It was a firm shake for both, friendly. He guessed Fuller wasn't a wrestling fan.
"It's hard to miss. But I guess if I owned my own practice I'd want everyone to know about it too."
Fuller let out a small laugh then sat in his chair. He adjusted his glasses and glanced over the form that JC filled out prior to his appointment.
"Not a lot of information about what's going on with you, Joe. Can I call you Joe?"
"You wouldn't be the first."
"Right. Okay, let's begin. Why, exactly, are you here?"
That was a good question. One that JC was a little unsure of how to answer. He decided to be forthcoming. After all, what could it hurt? He was protected by doctor-patient confidentiality and it might actually help for a clear answer on what this voice is.
Or he might lock you up.
He tried to hide the uncomfortable feeling that thought gave him.
"Well, I've had anger issues. My wife wanted me to get some help."
"That's what I'm here for. But you could have found an anger management class for that. Why a psychiatrist?"
"I guess it's the nature of it. You see..."
He thought for a moment about how he wanted to put his next statement. After all, he only admitted his bloodlust to another person and she was the reason he was here.
"I get this...feeling. A feeling that I should unleash my anger on others in order to placate it. I've called it a bloodlust for years..."
"For years? How long has this been going on?"
Another good question. Dr. Fuller was on fire today.
"Wow, I never really thought about it. It's been a while since I remember it first happening."
"How long, exactly, is 'a while'? Why do you start at the beginning?"
"I'm not sure my backstory is of any interest to anyone. Shouldn't we just focus on the present?"
"Humor me. I want to get a sense of who you are."
"Well, you asked for it."
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January 18, 1991
Joe stepped off the school bus in front of its usual stop, directly in front of Gimmie Video. A cute name for a mom 'n' pop video store, one of the last in the area. It was a Friday afternoon and while other teens his age were probably going to high school parties, Joe wasn't that kind of kid. All he wanted to do was grab some cheap rentals, maybe another wrestling tape or two and spend the night watching splatter movies.
Maybe he'd grab Eric something too. He'd been bothering their mom about the latest Disney offering. Joe claimed he was too old for that but he loved his little brother and would probably end up watching it with him. Then maybe when their mother went to bed, he'd let Eric sneak into his room to watch a zombie movie. What else were big brothers for?
He opened the door of the shop and heard a ding. He moved past the tanning salon corridor and began to eyeball the new releases. He saw Puppet Master II and got excited, until he saw the "coming soon" sticker slapped on it. Killer toys would have to wait another month. He heard a familiar voice from behind the counter.
"Does your mom know you're here spending her money again?"
It was Gladys, the woman who ran the store with her husband Peter. He liked them both, and they usually gave him deals if it was a particularly slow day. Peter ran the business end and was a little cold in his attitude, but he was still nice enough. Gladys was a cool older lady. He knew he liked her from the moment she caught him browsing the horror section at the age of twelve and showed him a copy of Fulci's Zombie.
"This is my money, Gladys. I earned it fair and square selling off some old toys."
"Shouldn't Eric get those toys?"
"He has his own. And I don't need them. I'm too old for that stuff. Haven't touched them in years."
"Typical teenager. You're going to wish you kept those action figures when they're worth money in the future."
He didn't see that happening, but he smiled anyway. Again, he really liked Gladys. He didn't have many friends, so he lost his time in movies. It was nice having someone, even much older than him, to talk to when the seniors of the high school gave him a rough time for being a loner. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to anyone, he just didn't know how. Teenagers weren't as easy to talk to as the owner of a video store whose livelihood depends on repeat customers.
The thought that he might go through high school alone and bullied always depressed him. Today, however, he was just really excited about grabbing some movies and having a marathon in his room while the next wave of snowfall hit East Rutherford. Some might say he was a little too excited. He spent most of the day in his classes unable to sit still and almost blatantly disobeying his teachers. That wasn't unheard of for your typical teenager, but it wasn't common for the quiet kid who mostly kept to himself.
He wasn't sure how he was going to break the news of his upcoming detention to his parents, but he would wait until after the weekend.
He looked at Gladys, hoping she would know what to say before he had to ask.
"Head on back to the horror section. I know Peter doesn't approve of renting R-rated films to kids, but I think you're old enough to handle it."
"Any recommendations?"
"You don't need horror picks from an old bag like me. Let's see what you can grab on your own."
He did a 180-degree turn and walked back across the thinly-carpeted floor, moving past the video games and sci-fi section. He didn't know why he was so drawn to movies with blood and guts in them, but it was something he and the few friends he had loved to watch. They all knew it was fake, of course, but seeing someone's head explode in Scanners was far more entertaining to any of them than the latest Rocky movie.
He browsed the shelves and a lot of the box covers jumped out at him. Sometimes, he'd rent movies based solely on the art. In this case he saw a doctor holding a heart with the title Cardiac Arrest. Another title had a shot of a woman's ample cleavage with black ants crawling all over. Appropriately enough, that one was titled Ants. There was one in particular he had his eye on today. It was out the last time he was here.
He glanced around a cardboard cutout of Freddy Krueger and saw his prize. A skull with a party horn in its mouth and a cone-shaped hat on its head. A slasher movie from a few years ago called Bloody New Year. He'd watched all the big releases already, even at fifteen, so it was a matter of hunting down obscure titles with interesting box covers.
As he glanced at the back of the box, he heard voices through the wall the shelf rested against. The horror section was only a few feet from the entrance of the adult section. Not even Gladys on her best day would let him stroll back there, although he was at the age where he wanted to. She was cool, but he understood she was also an adult and didn't want her store shut down. So he never raised the issue again. Besides, the movies he watched had enough naked women in them and his VCR was equipped with a pause button. He didn't need to see whatever the adult section had to offer.
The voices through the wall were clearly very happy with their selection, as there were several laughs that drew closer. He thought he recognized who was speaking and decided to squeeze himself back into the horror section to avoid any confrontation.
The door to the porn clicked and out walked Danny Taylor and Clint Harris. The two were seniors at his high school. They were also jocks on the football team.
They were also bullying assholes.
"Can you believe the tits on her? Do you know what I'd do to a woman like that?"
"Probably nothing, Clint. You're a fucking virgin and you always will be."
"Hey, fuck you! I'm wearing Amy down before the prom. I'll do the dance thing and..."
He was trying to sneak away when he bumped into Freddy and knocked him over, directly in front of the two meatheads.
"Who the fuck did that?"
Joe placed the video back on the shelf and looked behind him. Gladys wasn't that far, but she was far enough that if they wanted to start something with him they could get in a few shots before she could stop them. He thought he might be able to zip around the corner into the video games and the two musclebound clowns would be none the wiser. He was incredibly skinny and hadn't quite grown into his lanky limbs yet, even after signing up for weight-lifting in the freshman gym class. When he glanced back, he saw them looking and realized his opportunity was gone.
"Hey, look who it is! Little Joey Lee "
"Did you want a porn too? Is that why you're eavesdropping on our conversation?"
"Nah, Clint. Joey only gets off on blood and shit. He's a fucking weirdo."
"That's just because he hasn't seen the right movie. Maybe we outta lock him up in there for a while so he can rub one out in the video store."
"That's not a bad idea! Hey Joey, you want to see some real women?"
He had heard enough, and they were clearly too amused by their own immature thoughts to notice him inching his way to freedom. He didn't think he could win a fight against anyone, but especially not two football players that could snap him like a twig. It was best to go near an authority figure and wait it out. Gladys was his best shot.
He turned around to take off in a full sprint but Danny's speed surprised him. The jock lunged forward and grabbed him by the wrist, twisting enough that Joe felt pain shooting up to his elbow. He was yanked back and flung into the dramas on the shelf directly perpendicular to the adult section, knocking a few of them to the ground. He peeked around Danny and noticed that Gladys wasn't even at the counter. She was probably watching her portable TV in the back, waiting for someone to ring the bell.
If he could get to the bell, he'd be safe. But Danny and Clint were treating this like the state championship was on the line and they were surrounding him, blocking his exits. Their arms were stretched out and they were both laughing. They looked like savages. He felt the blood rushing through his veins and his heart pumping through the thumps in his ears. There was no way he could handle this. They were going to do whatever they wanted, then beat him up, and leaving him a crying mess. Even at his age, he would be quickly reduced to childhood and probably locked in a room he didn't really want to be in.
That's when he heard someone speak.
You can take them if you go after their knees.
He was so bewildered to the voice that he began to look around. It must have been funny, because the two neanderthals in front of him began to laugh.
"Look, Clint. He's trying to find a way out!"
"There's no way out, Joey-boy. Just go in there and do your business and we'll let you go! Or maybe we won't. It's been a while since I've kicked your ass."
Go for the knees. Trust me.
He remembered that Danny's ACL was torn during his junior year. It made him miss the rest of the season and it was all everyone could talk about when he made his return the following year. Even lowly freshmen like Joe knew about it. It was an easy target. But he couldn't concentrate with this person talking to him.
"Why don't you do anything? Why do I have to do it?"
He was talking to the voice he heard, but obviously his tormentors had other ideas.
"Because we fucking told you to!"
"That's it. I'm kicking his ass. I'm tired of playing."
Danny started towards him and he shut his eyes, expecting the worst. The voice chimed in again.
You can't hear me because I'm in your head. The knee. Go for the knee.
He didn't have another option. He threw all 150 pounds of his comically skinny body at the kneecap of the larger Danny, shoving his shoulder into the bone as hard as he could. He felt a sharp, blistering pain spread through his shoulder and collarbone. However, he also achieved his result. The knee began to give almost immediately upon impact, and he heard a sickening crack, followed by a bellowing yell that escaped Danny's lips. He went down in a heap, holding his knee.
"My fucking knee, dude! He broke my fucking knee!"
Clint stared with his mouth agape. He wasn't sure of what just happened and how to adapt. He wasn't the brightest thinker.
He's not going to let you get away. Take him out too.
That's when the idea hit him. He grabbed a tape off the shelf and launched it at Clint's face. He saw it smash him in the teeth and bounce off, before it ricocheted off the shelf and landed back in front of Joe's feet. At that point, he was beyond the capacity for rational thought. He ducked his head and charged Clint, forcing the pair of them into the porno section. They tumbled to the floor and Joe began to lose himself in the blows he rained down onto the older teenager's face. He drove his fist down into his nose and felt a crunch.
Then he did it again.
And again.
He loved the way it made him feel. He was finally getting some justice.
So he did it again.
And again.
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June 1, 2016
"And then what happened?"
By this point JC had made himself comfortable on the couch as he relayed the story. It was as cliched as you could get. The patient was laying on the couch, describing his darkest secrets. He didn't mind. He was completely relaxed, in spite of himself.
"Gladys came back there and pulled me off. I started crying. A fifteen year old teen, crying like a little kid. I think maybe it was just because I was overwhelmed by whatever it was I was feeling."
"Did you tell anyone what you heard?"
"I don't think I even remembered it. I hadn't even thought about it until today. Why would I remember something like that?"
"I would guess it's because it shaped, in part, who you became."
Dr. Fuller jotted something down in his notepad then looked over at JC, who was thinking about where to go next.
"What did your parents say about the fight?"
"They didn't."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, they didn't say anything. They couldn't. I mentioned the bad weather. Well..."
He wheeled his legs around to a sitting position once more and tried to keep his composure. He never liked talking about what came next.
"Gladys called them after the seniors were sent away. I don't think the injuries were as bad as I remember but the police pretty much wrote it off as me defending myself. I was still in trouble, but not as bad as I probably should have been."
He could not believe how open he was being. It took him months to be this open with Stacy and they were married. He thought maybe it was the fact he needed to talk with someone. Maybe it was because he knew Dr. Fuller wasn't going to repeat this to anyone. He was legally obligated to keep his educated mouth shut.
He choked down his nervousness and went on with the story.
"The house wasn't even that far, but they wouldn't let me walk home. They wanted my parents to come to them. So they did. They rushed out, hit a patch of ice and..."
He paused and cracked his neck to the side. He had no intention of crying and didn't feel the need to, but this wasn't an easy story to tell. It didn't get easier no matter how many times he told it.
"They never had a chance in that weather."
Silence engulfed the room. JC didn't know what to add to that and Dr. Fuller appeared to be searching for the correct way to continue the conversation. JC wondered if their hour was up yet. He secretly hoped it was.
"Do you blame yourself for their deaths?"
You should.
"No, I mean. I was defending myself, and if the police had just let me go home..."
"Do you blame the voice you heard?"
"I told you I hadn't thought about it."
Liar.
The voice was chiming in now with its comments. He wasn't ready to reveal that little bit of information yet.
"What about now? Do you think listening to the voice and having a violent outburst contributed to what happened?"
"What do you want me to say? That if I hadn't assaulted two people my parents might be alive? Yeah, sure. That's probably the most likely scenario. I would have had my ass kicked and Gladys would have stopped it, leading to more humiliation. But yes, they'd probably be alive. This isn't the first time I blamed myself so I don't know why you want me to sit here and do it to you."
Now he was getting angry. He suddenly didn't like this man, who swore an oath to help people like him.
"What the fuck does this prove, anyway?"
Dr. Fuller let a moment of silence pass so that Joe would calm himself, then continued.
"I'm getting to that. Do you have depression?"
"I get down every so often. Who doesn't?"
"How bad does it get?"
"Sometimes I feel like I don't want to leave the bed. But I force myself to anyway because I have responsibilities."
"How about after a depressive episode? How do you feel then?"
"Like I could take on the world. Isn't that how most people feel after getting over something like that?"
"I'd say sometimes that's an accurate take. One last question. This voice you heard."
"Hear."
Might as well be honest with the man. They'd come this far and still had quite a bit of time left.
"Okay, 'hear'. Is violence the only thing that results from it?"
"I mean, that seems to be the default. Sometimes it just makes me make stupid decisions."
"How so?"
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May 30, 2003
"This is the year. I can feel it. We're going to break through this year and become big."
Joe was talking to his brother Eric backstage, watching ICW's new show FNX, on the monitors. Eric, better known as GI to wrestling fans, stood with the ICW Hardcore title draped over his shoulder. FNX stood for "Friday Night Xtreme", because everything had to have "Xtreme" in it during that time period. ICW had a roster so massive that they had to have a roster split. Joe had turned over the FNX brand to new Vice President Mick Hardy and he signed the man known as C4 as his first draft pick.
"Crucial Conflict" Calon Cross was arrogant and smug, but he had a lot of talent. He was possibly one of the most talented wrestlers in ICW. The problem was that he knew it and he knew Joe knew it. That was probably why the two of them didn't get along, even on the day C4 signed.
Luckily, he had GI by his side to riff what was going on in the ring.
"Did C4 just call himself the 'cock of the walk'?"
"What does that even mean?"
"I swear, it's like he sets himself up for people to make fun of him."
They were witnessing C4 ranting in the middle of the ring, demanding a match with current World champion Bob Rocket. The problem with that was he hadn't earned a title shot, and everyone knew it. There was a very strict system in place now, where wrestlers had to compete in contendership matches to get title shots. Rocket was already defending the belt at the event and C4 had a scheduled hardcore title match with GI.
"I don't know why he thinks he's above the hardcore title. The division is very competitive right now."
"I wouldn't look past him. He's been beating a lot of guys recently, including Rocket."
"And Pozen. And Mantys. C4's been on a roll, I get it."
"Calm down, bro. I fully expect you to win."
They looked at the TV and see FNX President/ICW Vice-President Mick Hardy coming to the ring. Joe liked Mick a great deal better than his former VP Jack Diamond, who he had to actually face in a match to gain full control his company back. Wrestling was a very odd business at times.
"At least Mick is going to shut this down and stop him from hijacking the show."
"Well he should. I didn't hire him to be a doormat."
They watched as Hardy stepped in the ring and tried to talk C4 into leaving. When C4 refused, Hardy began to give him what he wanted. Without earning it, the egotistical Calon Cross was about to get a World title shot because he threw a fit.
"What the hell is Mick doing?"
"Being a doormat."
"Not if I have anything to say about it. Hey, you! Play my music."
Joe shouted at the production staff in charge of the music and video wall. They did as they were told and once Joe heard the opening bit of "The Man Without Fear" play, he moved towards the curtain. The crowd was already getting excited as they recognized the music. Joe looked over at GI and nodded in his direction.
"Time to go be diplomatic!"
He grabbed a microphone and stepped out to a roar of approval from the audience, who were previously booing the segment mercilessly. C4 had a way of getting under people's skin.
Joe had no time to play to the crowd as there was a serious situation in the ring that he needed to fix.
"Whoa, whoa whoa whoa! Mick, what the hell are you doing?"
The VP knew he messed up, so he sheepishly went outside the ring to avoid confrontation. Joe knew he'd have to talk with him later, but now he had to deal with the blowhard in the ring. He looked over at C4 and saw him seething with anger.
"I was in the back listening, and I have to say, you make for a compelling case. C4 vs Bob Rocket would be one hell of a match."
C4 nodded in agreement, perhaps thinking that he's finally going to get what he wants.
"The problem, Cross, is that you haven't earned it. You know how ICW works. We don't hand title shots to anybody. So if you want Bob Rocket, you've got him at ICW No Remorse."
The crowd gives a mixed reaction, as the person they expected to stop the madness is the one giving in to C4's demands.
"It will be a non-title match. And if you beat Rocket, then you will have earned a title match against him."
The crowd cheers at the non-title stipulation, knowing C4 will have to earn his spot. C4, however, is just upset that things aren't going his way. He gets noticeably angrier and begins to shout various obscenities at Joe that aren't picked up on the mic. Even with the roar of the crowd and the shouting from C4, Joe heard something else talking to him.
You should punch him in the mouth.
He ignored that. He was the ICW President now. While he did wrestle occasionally, he was dealing with a neck problem and he wanted to avoid in-ring competition until he healed fully. There was no chance he was going to let himself suffer a serious injury and take years off of his career. C4 wasn't making it easy, however.
"What? Are you drunk? Joe, you're one sorry piece of shit. Calon Cross is the man that puts the asses in the seats and you know I deserve the damn shot!"
It was true, he was a heavy merchandise mover. People bought tickets to see him, even if it was to see him lose. But rules were rules. Joe wanted to get out of the ring before he did something he regretted.
Maybe he should fight you.
"You either put the title on the line or forget it altogether!"
Then he just wouldn't get his match. He watched as C4 spat on the ground next to him, drawing some "oohs" from the crowd. It was as blatant a show of disrespect as there could be. He wanted so badly to put this jerk in his place.
So do it. Your neck will be fine.
Perhaps against his better judgment, Joe lifted the microphone to his lips.
"Oh, I see. So C4 wants to main event ICW No Remorse? He thinks since he's the "cock of the walk", whatever that means, he can automatically get a World title shot? I don't really like your attitude, asshole!"
Yes, do it.
"I'll tell you what. If you want to main event ICW No Remorse, how about you main event AGAINST JOE COOL."
He couldn't believe he was doing it. It was like everything he told himself was ignored in favor of this impulsive decision. He knew his neck was hurt. He knew C4 had a variety of moves that would target the neck. He also knew that C4 was the kind of guy that would end a career if it meant furthering his own.
"Me? Versus Joe Cool? The Man Without Fear? YOU GOT IT!"
The crowd cheered the announcement, perhaps the first time they cheered anything C4 had said. The two dropped their microphones and stared at each other for a moment, with C4 continuing his trash talking tirade. Joe decided to leave the ring before he made things worse and quickly moved to the back, silently cursing himself for making such a stupid decision. Now that the match was made, in public no less, there was no way he could back out of it without looking like a coward. He had to go through with it.
He thought about what his wife might say. His brother, who likely had similar concerns, stopped him as he got backstage, basically throwing his arms up as if to physically ask, "what the hell?"
"That was being diplomatic?"
"Yeah, that could have went better."
"Went better? Joe, your neck isn't exactly 100% and you just challenged a guy with a finisher that targets the neck exclusively. That was fucking stupid!"
Joe didn't feel great about his decision at the moment, but having his brother question his intelligence didn't help matters at all. He began to feel the darkness that he felt from time to time crawl up from inside. He would never strike his own brother, but he had other ways to stick it to him for what he said. But first, he'd give him a chance to apologize.
"Not appreciating the insult, bro. C4's good, but do you really think he's going to be able to beat me?"
"It's not about wins or losses. It's about C4 breaking your neck out of spite. You know he'll do it."
"I know he'll try. And he'll fail."
"You know, sometimes your ego really pisses me off. You're not thinking about your health here."
"Why don't you let me worry about my health and you worry about yours. You've got C4 first, after all, at ICW In Your Face."
He was tired of being questioned by the one person he felt should be loyal. It was one thing for everyone else to debate his choices, but Eric was supposed to be family. Family, especially one as small as theirs, were supposed to stick together no matter what.
"I have an idea. Why don't we make your match a death match? It's for the Hardcore title anyway, so let's make things a little more extreme. You not only have to pin C4, but he has to stay down for a ten count after you do it."
"Oh, great, punish me because you fucked up. That makes sense."
Joe wasn't going to listen to this anymore. He began to walk away from GI before he made the situation worse. GI shouted something at him, but he was moving too quickly to pay attention. He reached up to rub the back of his neck, which hurt more right now than it usually did.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------"This is the year. I can feel it. We're going to break through this year and become big."
Joe was talking to his brother Eric backstage, watching ICW's new show FNX, on the monitors. Eric, better known as GI to wrestling fans, stood with the ICW Hardcore title draped over his shoulder. FNX stood for "Friday Night Xtreme", because everything had to have "Xtreme" in it during that time period. ICW had a roster so massive that they had to have a roster split. Joe had turned over the FNX brand to new Vice President Mick Hardy and he signed the man known as C4 as his first draft pick.
"Crucial Conflict" Calon Cross was arrogant and smug, but he had a lot of talent. He was possibly one of the most talented wrestlers in ICW. The problem was that he knew it and he knew Joe knew it. That was probably why the two of them didn't get along, even on the day C4 signed.
Luckily, he had GI by his side to riff what was going on in the ring.
"Did C4 just call himself the 'cock of the walk'?"
"What does that even mean?"
"I swear, it's like he sets himself up for people to make fun of him."
They were witnessing C4 ranting in the middle of the ring, demanding a match with current World champion Bob Rocket. The problem with that was he hadn't earned a title shot, and everyone knew it. There was a very strict system in place now, where wrestlers had to compete in contendership matches to get title shots. Rocket was already defending the belt at the event and C4 had a scheduled hardcore title match with GI.
"I don't know why he thinks he's above the hardcore title. The division is very competitive right now."
"I wouldn't look past him. He's been beating a lot of guys recently, including Rocket."
"And Pozen. And Mantys. C4's been on a roll, I get it."
"Calm down, bro. I fully expect you to win."
They looked at the TV and see FNX President/ICW Vice-President Mick Hardy coming to the ring. Joe liked Mick a great deal better than his former VP Jack Diamond, who he had to actually face in a match to gain full control his company back. Wrestling was a very odd business at times.
"At least Mick is going to shut this down and stop him from hijacking the show."
"Well he should. I didn't hire him to be a doormat."
They watched as Hardy stepped in the ring and tried to talk C4 into leaving. When C4 refused, Hardy began to give him what he wanted. Without earning it, the egotistical Calon Cross was about to get a World title shot because he threw a fit.
"What the hell is Mick doing?"
"Being a doormat."
"Not if I have anything to say about it. Hey, you! Play my music."
Joe shouted at the production staff in charge of the music and video wall. They did as they were told and once Joe heard the opening bit of "The Man Without Fear" play, he moved towards the curtain. The crowd was already getting excited as they recognized the music. Joe looked over at GI and nodded in his direction.
"Time to go be diplomatic!"
He grabbed a microphone and stepped out to a roar of approval from the audience, who were previously booing the segment mercilessly. C4 had a way of getting under people's skin.
Joe had no time to play to the crowd as there was a serious situation in the ring that he needed to fix.
"Whoa, whoa whoa whoa! Mick, what the hell are you doing?"
The VP knew he messed up, so he sheepishly went outside the ring to avoid confrontation. Joe knew he'd have to talk with him later, but now he had to deal with the blowhard in the ring. He looked over at C4 and saw him seething with anger.
"I was in the back listening, and I have to say, you make for a compelling case. C4 vs Bob Rocket would be one hell of a match."
C4 nodded in agreement, perhaps thinking that he's finally going to get what he wants.
"The problem, Cross, is that you haven't earned it. You know how ICW works. We don't hand title shots to anybody. So if you want Bob Rocket, you've got him at ICW No Remorse."
The crowd gives a mixed reaction, as the person they expected to stop the madness is the one giving in to C4's demands.
"It will be a non-title match. And if you beat Rocket, then you will have earned a title match against him."
The crowd cheers at the non-title stipulation, knowing C4 will have to earn his spot. C4, however, is just upset that things aren't going his way. He gets noticeably angrier and begins to shout various obscenities at Joe that aren't picked up on the mic. Even with the roar of the crowd and the shouting from C4, Joe heard something else talking to him.
You should punch him in the mouth.
He ignored that. He was the ICW President now. While he did wrestle occasionally, he was dealing with a neck problem and he wanted to avoid in-ring competition until he healed fully. There was no chance he was going to let himself suffer a serious injury and take years off of his career. C4 wasn't making it easy, however.
"What? Are you drunk? Joe, you're one sorry piece of shit. Calon Cross is the man that puts the asses in the seats and you know I deserve the damn shot!"
It was true, he was a heavy merchandise mover. People bought tickets to see him, even if it was to see him lose. But rules were rules. Joe wanted to get out of the ring before he did something he regretted.
Maybe he should fight you.
"You either put the title on the line or forget it altogether!"
Then he just wouldn't get his match. He watched as C4 spat on the ground next to him, drawing some "oohs" from the crowd. It was as blatant a show of disrespect as there could be. He wanted so badly to put this jerk in his place.
So do it. Your neck will be fine.
Perhaps against his better judgment, Joe lifted the microphone to his lips.
"Oh, I see. So C4 wants to main event ICW No Remorse? He thinks since he's the "cock of the walk", whatever that means, he can automatically get a World title shot? I don't really like your attitude, asshole!"
Yes, do it.
"I'll tell you what. If you want to main event ICW No Remorse, how about you main event AGAINST JOE COOL."
He couldn't believe he was doing it. It was like everything he told himself was ignored in favor of this impulsive decision. He knew his neck was hurt. He knew C4 had a variety of moves that would target the neck. He also knew that C4 was the kind of guy that would end a career if it meant furthering his own.
"Me? Versus Joe Cool? The Man Without Fear? YOU GOT IT!"
The crowd cheered the announcement, perhaps the first time they cheered anything C4 had said. The two dropped their microphones and stared at each other for a moment, with C4 continuing his trash talking tirade. Joe decided to leave the ring before he made things worse and quickly moved to the back, silently cursing himself for making such a stupid decision. Now that the match was made, in public no less, there was no way he could back out of it without looking like a coward. He had to go through with it.
He thought about what his wife might say. His brother, who likely had similar concerns, stopped him as he got backstage, basically throwing his arms up as if to physically ask, "what the hell?"
"That was being diplomatic?"
"Yeah, that could have went better."
"Went better? Joe, your neck isn't exactly 100% and you just challenged a guy with a finisher that targets the neck exclusively. That was fucking stupid!"
Joe didn't feel great about his decision at the moment, but having his brother question his intelligence didn't help matters at all. He began to feel the darkness that he felt from time to time crawl up from inside. He would never strike his own brother, but he had other ways to stick it to him for what he said. But first, he'd give him a chance to apologize.
"Not appreciating the insult, bro. C4's good, but do you really think he's going to be able to beat me?"
"It's not about wins or losses. It's about C4 breaking your neck out of spite. You know he'll do it."
"I know he'll try. And he'll fail."
"You know, sometimes your ego really pisses me off. You're not thinking about your health here."
"Why don't you let me worry about my health and you worry about yours. You've got C4 first, after all, at ICW In Your Face."
He was tired of being questioned by the one person he felt should be loyal. It was one thing for everyone else to debate his choices, but Eric was supposed to be family. Family, especially one as small as theirs, were supposed to stick together no matter what.
"I have an idea. Why don't we make your match a death match? It's for the Hardcore title anyway, so let's make things a little more extreme. You not only have to pin C4, but he has to stay down for a ten count after you do it."
"Oh, great, punish me because you fucked up. That makes sense."
Joe wasn't going to listen to this anymore. He began to walk away from GI before he made the situation worse. GI shouted something at him, but he was moving too quickly to pay attention. He reached up to rub the back of his neck, which hurt more right now than it usually did.
June 1, 2016
JC sat on the couch with his elbows propped on his knees. Dr. Fuller sat in his own chair, making notes in the pad that JC wished he could see. He didn't see how any of these stories were helping him, unless he wanted to hire Fuller as a ghost writer for his autobiography.
"That's an interesting story. So you said that listening to that voice sometimes made you make impulsive decisions. What were the consequences of the decisions you made then?"
"There were plenty. C4 became a blood rival that followed me for years. GI lost his title after a guy named Dark Rider helped C4 win the match. Oh, and the "Respect" match with C4 gave me herniated C5 and C6 discs."
"Did the condition improve?"
"Not really. In fact, the condition deteriorated to the point of giving me cervical spinal stenosis. It was so bad, there were times where I just felt numbness and tingling in my arms and legs. I could barely walk. I even had a paralysis scare at one point."
"That's a pretty serious injury for someone in your profession."
"You're telling me. I had to have spinal fusion surgery that was extensive enough to put me out of wrestling for two years. It would have been a year if I took off when I was supposed to, but I kept pushing myself."
He turned around and pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal his surgical scar. He once had someone take a photo of it so he could see. It was a nasty, bulging line up the center of his neck. It had faded over time but it was still visible if you happened to look at the neck for any moment of time.
"Was that...'the voice' as well?"
"Probably. Or just my ego. I can never tell sometimes."
"So you were injured for two whole years as a result of a reckless decision."
"I'd say that was reckless, yes. But I work in a reckless business."
Fuller made another note and simply nodded.
"How were you feeling at the time of the decision? Was it during one of your depressive episodes?"
"Not really. I felt really good and was convinced that even though my neck hurt, there was no way someone like Cross could do anything to make it worse. I felt invincible. No matter what anyone said, my brother, my girlfriend, my friends, I didn't listen. I went on with the match and you saw what happened."
"Yes. At least you're healthy now."
"Yeah, except on cold mornings when I can feel hints of arthritis setting in. I know I've got maybe another five good years of this business before I'm done for good, if that."
"From what you've told me, it appears as though you made that decision during a period of mania."
"What does that mean?"
"I'll get to that, but I'd like another story to confirm my suspicions. Perhaps another time when this voice caused you to make a rash decision that you ended up regretting."
"I don't really know if I regret anything I do, Dr. Fuller. It usually works out, even if I have to have some tough times before it does."
"That's a surprisingly positive outlook."
"I'm in a surprisingly positive mood. Maybe this session is just what I needed."
"In that case, just tell me another story in which you heard this voice of yours."
"I can do that."
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September 1, 2008
So far, Joe Cool's run in the OWF had added up to the least impressive comeback in wrestling history. His biggest win since returning had been over Greg Jackson, and that was with a rollup in a match no one would remember a year from now. He doubted Greg would even go through with the fan club he was supposed to run. If he did, he might make it so that it's full of backhanded compliments. That seemed like a very Greg thing to do.
And the fans cheered him anyway.
That was something else that bothered him. The fans seemed less receptive to Joe than they used to be. Maybe they were tired of the same old, same old from Joe Cool. He had been wrestling for eight years now, minus the two he was out thanks to his surgery. He's already won his three world titles and countless others. He ran ICW and made it a success. Maybe his time was coming to a close.
Blood Bath in particular was an embarrassment. He was part of a match for something called the Lilyass title, he won and lost the PDA title the same number of times and then he wound up falling into a vat of blood. The entire show was an embarrassment not only for him, but wrestling in general. The very idea of a pool of blood match was disgusting. It certainly wasn't something he would have had in ICW. He respected his fans more than that.
He guessed that OWF President Chase Johnson only cared about spectacle because that's what people paid to see. He didn't care about quality or talent.
"You seem lost in thought."
He looked over and saw his friend and personal cameraman, Josh, waiting for the word on the word to record a promo.
"Yeah, I'm just thinking about how big of a failure this run has been so far."
"Come on, man. You've had a rocky start. It's been two years since you were in the ring. It'll take some time to come back from that. But you have that partnership with Jared Wave going on, plus a tag title shot tonight."
"Yeah, I could team with Freedom Kid or Moxie Roxie! Hooray!"
Joe's mock enthusiasm irritated his friend. Josh put up with a lot from him. They weren't best friends, but there was a level of camaraderie between those you traveled with that couldn't be replicated in other relationships. He imagined it's why his brother and Billy Bob were still close even though Eric hadn't wrestled in years.
The very idea of a tag team title being defended in singles competition, pairing up two wrestlers with nothing in common bothered him to no end. He had a tag team partner. Jared Wave wasn't exactly a thrilling in-ring competitor, but he was a fellow Jersey boy and they were already an established team. Even if he was teaming with someone else now.
He's also holding you back.
As if on cue, the voice was back and murmuring in his ear. He already had enough trouble, he didn't want to listen to the psychotic side of him anymore.
"FK's talented. Moxie's beloved by the audience. I don't see the issue."
"You mean besides the fact I can't choose my partner? I wouldn't get along with either of them. Freedom Kid's got this weird political thing going on. Moxie's music is terrible. I swear, she must be brainwashing her fans or something to get them to like it."
"This is real life, Joe. Pop stars don't use mind control on their fans. Besides, I thought her last album was kind of catchy."
"Yeah, you would."
"Alright, if we're going to film this promo before your match, we should probably do it now, don't you think?"
Joe stood up and gave himself a full body shake to loosen up. It had been a few weeks and he'd honestly been considering retirement. He laughed it off any time anyone brought it up, but he didn't know how to get over the hump and compete with the Jesse Williams-level competitors of the promotion. It seemed the respectful fan favorite wasn't getting the job done. That also bothered him. Fans liked violent antiheroes at best. What happened to the way the business used to be?
"Okay, I think I'm ready. Go."
Josh made a motion to let him know he was recording. Joe gave a fake smile and tried to give his best 'Joe Cool' promo.
"OWF! What's up, guys? This is Joe Cool, coming to you live backstage from Mexico! I've only been to Mexico a few times, but it's true what they say, don't drink the water!"
He could feel himself screaming on the inside. He didn't like a single word he was saying. But it was the kind of thing fans wanted to hear.
"So tonight, I've found myself paired up with Akira Kanemura...again. Sure, I've already beat him before, and soundly, but tonight I get to do it with a table! Because if there's one thing a gifted technical wrestler like myself needs, it's a tables match with a complete waste of my time!"
Josh suddenly made the cutting motion and Joe slumped his shoulders, sighing.
"Damn, Joe, bitter much?"
"Sorry, I'm just letting my current situation get to me. Should we go again?"
You should say how you really feel.
Joe gritted his teeth and ignored the voice inside. He listened before and made some terrible choices. He was doing his best not to listen now.
How do you know I'm not right?
Josh shrugged his shoulders and did a countdown, signaling that they would try take two. Joe thought of all the positive things about his OWF career so far. He had a fun tag team. He was up for a title shot that he was positive he could win. He told himself to focus on that and everything else would fall into place.
"Tonight, my opponent is Akira Kanemura. I've beat him before, but tonight I get to show him what splinters up the ass feel like! That's a feeling that transcends any language barrier. So does the feeling of loss, which is what you'll experience when I take the "Tears" title from you tonight. And another thing..."
Suddenly Joe stopped himself and shook his head. It was his turn to make the cutting motion. Josh shut off the camera with a confused look on his face.
"What's wrong? I thought that take was good!"
"I just wasn't feeling it. Doesn't all this ring a little hollow to you?"
"Well yeah, but I mean...that's a wrestling promo, isn't it? You build yourself up, tear the other guy down and entertain the fans."
"That's kind of the problem. I don't like presenting myself as someone I'm not. I've been playing this exaggerated version of myself for years and clearly no one wants to see it. I see people sitting on their hands when I go out there. Maybe I should do something different."
"This is what the OWF hired you for, though. Maybe they don't want you to do anything different."
"Yeah, all the more reason this place kind of sucks."
He moved out of the line of the camera and sat down on a box that typically held the production equipment. They were near the curtain of the arena, waiting for his match to start. He heard the various reactions of the audience during a match between Hang Ten and the team of Trent Steel and X-Terminator. The winners, oddly enough, would face whoever won the tag title matches later on. He put his chin on his palm and sat for a moment, unsure of what to say.
"You want to go for a third take?"
"I don't think so. I think I'm just going to show up and wrestle. If I have anything to say, I'll say it after the match. You're off the hook."
"In that case, I'm going to go make a phone call. I'll be right back."
"I'm not going anywhere."
Josh bounded off to do whatever it is he wanted to do. Joe just continued to sit and ponder his place in the OWF. Maybe he should retire. It's not like the OWF would care. It's not like the fans would really care. He was still loved but not like he used to be. At the age of 32, maybe his time was done. He could always open a gym and teach others. His name would bring in customers.
Or maybe you could change things.
The voice made no sense. What could he do? He tried and failed to run his own promotion. He didn't think Chase Johnson was going to give a lower midcarder any position of power or run with any of his ideas. He was going to be stuck as the lovable goofball fan favorite forever, unless he called it quits. No one took him seriously, so he should just get out and call it a career.
So stop being respectful.
There was an idea. It was one that made sense. If the fans were cheering guys that were supposed to be the villains, maybe he should start acting like one. He avoided it because it went against everything he believed in. But then, the OWF stood against everything he believed a wrestling company should be. He had the power. He had the ability, why shouldn't he use that to try to change things from the inside. Why shouldn't he take what he wanted by force?
Why not?
Because he had a tag team partner. Jared Wave was training under him. But Jared was also going nowhere fast. It would probably do Joe a world of good to cut ties with Jared before he got dragged down with him. The voice inside kept saying things he agreed with. That had never happened before. It was always reckless decisions and hard consequences.
But what would he lose by going out there and being a little ruthless? What would he lose by trying to mold the OWF into something better for the fans? The audience may hate him a little, the wrestlers may want to stop him, but that didn't matter. He had friends. He had family. They would always stick by him.
You also have me.
So far, Joe Cool's run in the OWF had added up to the least impressive comeback in wrestling history. His biggest win since returning had been over Greg Jackson, and that was with a rollup in a match no one would remember a year from now. He doubted Greg would even go through with the fan club he was supposed to run. If he did, he might make it so that it's full of backhanded compliments. That seemed like a very Greg thing to do.
And the fans cheered him anyway.
That was something else that bothered him. The fans seemed less receptive to Joe than they used to be. Maybe they were tired of the same old, same old from Joe Cool. He had been wrestling for eight years now, minus the two he was out thanks to his surgery. He's already won his three world titles and countless others. He ran ICW and made it a success. Maybe his time was coming to a close.
Blood Bath in particular was an embarrassment. He was part of a match for something called the Lilyass title, he won and lost the PDA title the same number of times and then he wound up falling into a vat of blood. The entire show was an embarrassment not only for him, but wrestling in general. The very idea of a pool of blood match was disgusting. It certainly wasn't something he would have had in ICW. He respected his fans more than that.
He guessed that OWF President Chase Johnson only cared about spectacle because that's what people paid to see. He didn't care about quality or talent.
"You seem lost in thought."
He looked over and saw his friend and personal cameraman, Josh, waiting for the word on the word to record a promo.
"Yeah, I'm just thinking about how big of a failure this run has been so far."
"Come on, man. You've had a rocky start. It's been two years since you were in the ring. It'll take some time to come back from that. But you have that partnership with Jared Wave going on, plus a tag title shot tonight."
"Yeah, I could team with Freedom Kid or Moxie Roxie! Hooray!"
Joe's mock enthusiasm irritated his friend. Josh put up with a lot from him. They weren't best friends, but there was a level of camaraderie between those you traveled with that couldn't be replicated in other relationships. He imagined it's why his brother and Billy Bob were still close even though Eric hadn't wrestled in years.
The very idea of a tag team title being defended in singles competition, pairing up two wrestlers with nothing in common bothered him to no end. He had a tag team partner. Jared Wave wasn't exactly a thrilling in-ring competitor, but he was a fellow Jersey boy and they were already an established team. Even if he was teaming with someone else now.
He's also holding you back.
As if on cue, the voice was back and murmuring in his ear. He already had enough trouble, he didn't want to listen to the psychotic side of him anymore.
"FK's talented. Moxie's beloved by the audience. I don't see the issue."
"You mean besides the fact I can't choose my partner? I wouldn't get along with either of them. Freedom Kid's got this weird political thing going on. Moxie's music is terrible. I swear, she must be brainwashing her fans or something to get them to like it."
"This is real life, Joe. Pop stars don't use mind control on their fans. Besides, I thought her last album was kind of catchy."
"Yeah, you would."
"Alright, if we're going to film this promo before your match, we should probably do it now, don't you think?"
Joe stood up and gave himself a full body shake to loosen up. It had been a few weeks and he'd honestly been considering retirement. He laughed it off any time anyone brought it up, but he didn't know how to get over the hump and compete with the Jesse Williams-level competitors of the promotion. It seemed the respectful fan favorite wasn't getting the job done. That also bothered him. Fans liked violent antiheroes at best. What happened to the way the business used to be?
"Okay, I think I'm ready. Go."
Josh made a motion to let him know he was recording. Joe gave a fake smile and tried to give his best 'Joe Cool' promo.
"OWF! What's up, guys? This is Joe Cool, coming to you live backstage from Mexico! I've only been to Mexico a few times, but it's true what they say, don't drink the water!"
He could feel himself screaming on the inside. He didn't like a single word he was saying. But it was the kind of thing fans wanted to hear.
"So tonight, I've found myself paired up with Akira Kanemura...again. Sure, I've already beat him before, and soundly, but tonight I get to do it with a table! Because if there's one thing a gifted technical wrestler like myself needs, it's a tables match with a complete waste of my time!"
Josh suddenly made the cutting motion and Joe slumped his shoulders, sighing.
"Damn, Joe, bitter much?"
"Sorry, I'm just letting my current situation get to me. Should we go again?"
You should say how you really feel.
Joe gritted his teeth and ignored the voice inside. He listened before and made some terrible choices. He was doing his best not to listen now.
How do you know I'm not right?
Josh shrugged his shoulders and did a countdown, signaling that they would try take two. Joe thought of all the positive things about his OWF career so far. He had a fun tag team. He was up for a title shot that he was positive he could win. He told himself to focus on that and everything else would fall into place.
"Tonight, my opponent is Akira Kanemura. I've beat him before, but tonight I get to show him what splinters up the ass feel like! That's a feeling that transcends any language barrier. So does the feeling of loss, which is what you'll experience when I take the "Tears" title from you tonight. And another thing..."
Suddenly Joe stopped himself and shook his head. It was his turn to make the cutting motion. Josh shut off the camera with a confused look on his face.
"What's wrong? I thought that take was good!"
"I just wasn't feeling it. Doesn't all this ring a little hollow to you?"
"Well yeah, but I mean...that's a wrestling promo, isn't it? You build yourself up, tear the other guy down and entertain the fans."
"That's kind of the problem. I don't like presenting myself as someone I'm not. I've been playing this exaggerated version of myself for years and clearly no one wants to see it. I see people sitting on their hands when I go out there. Maybe I should do something different."
"This is what the OWF hired you for, though. Maybe they don't want you to do anything different."
"Yeah, all the more reason this place kind of sucks."
He moved out of the line of the camera and sat down on a box that typically held the production equipment. They were near the curtain of the arena, waiting for his match to start. He heard the various reactions of the audience during a match between Hang Ten and the team of Trent Steel and X-Terminator. The winners, oddly enough, would face whoever won the tag title matches later on. He put his chin on his palm and sat for a moment, unsure of what to say.
"You want to go for a third take?"
"I don't think so. I think I'm just going to show up and wrestle. If I have anything to say, I'll say it after the match. You're off the hook."
"In that case, I'm going to go make a phone call. I'll be right back."
"I'm not going anywhere."
Josh bounded off to do whatever it is he wanted to do. Joe just continued to sit and ponder his place in the OWF. Maybe he should retire. It's not like the OWF would care. It's not like the fans would really care. He was still loved but not like he used to be. At the age of 32, maybe his time was done. He could always open a gym and teach others. His name would bring in customers.
Or maybe you could change things.
The voice made no sense. What could he do? He tried and failed to run his own promotion. He didn't think Chase Johnson was going to give a lower midcarder any position of power or run with any of his ideas. He was going to be stuck as the lovable goofball fan favorite forever, unless he called it quits. No one took him seriously, so he should just get out and call it a career.
So stop being respectful.
There was an idea. It was one that made sense. If the fans were cheering guys that were supposed to be the villains, maybe he should start acting like one. He avoided it because it went against everything he believed in. But then, the OWF stood against everything he believed a wrestling company should be. He had the power. He had the ability, why shouldn't he use that to try to change things from the inside. Why shouldn't he take what he wanted by force?
Why not?
Because he had a tag team partner. Jared Wave was training under him. But Jared was also going nowhere fast. It would probably do Joe a world of good to cut ties with Jared before he got dragged down with him. The voice inside kept saying things he agreed with. That had never happened before. It was always reckless decisions and hard consequences.
But what would he lose by going out there and being a little ruthless? What would he lose by trying to mold the OWF into something better for the fans? The audience may hate him a little, the wrestlers may want to stop him, but that didn't matter. He had friends. He had family. They would always stick by him.
You also have me.
He listened to the voice's argument. It was very compelling. He had every reason to go to the ring tonight, dismantle Kanemura and then declare a new and improved version of himself to the world. It was bold. It wouldn't make anyone happy, but it would help him get to where he needed to be.
It was necessary. It was the right thing to do.
He gave himself over to the mania, to the voice, to the reckless abandon he tried to fight off for so long. He stood up, cracked his neck and smirked to himself. He knew what he should do now.
Joe Cool was dead.
Long live JC.
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June 1, 2016
"...and I never looked back."
JC wrapped up his third and hopefully final story. He noticed Fuller had finished writing in his notepad and closed it. That worried JC, as he knew a diagnosis was forthcoming.
"So what, exactly, did you do?"
"I told the fans what I really thought of the OWF, turned on Jared Wave and began a quest to, as I called it, 'purify' the company. It's still my mission in wrestling today. I still hurt people and I still listen to the voice."
He realized how crazy this all sounded. There was no way this was going to end well for him if he didn't shut up now. But he knew he had to continue. His marriage and maybe even his sanity depended on it.
"So, I've always worried that it was schizophrenia, but I thought you to be some sort of babbling lunatic for that."
Fuller gave a wan smile, trying to ignore the blatant disregard for those with serious mental issues. He was also sure Fuller counted JC among them.
"No, I don't think it's schizophrenia, Joe. I've got a checklist here of symptoms, I'd like to name off a few and see if you hit the marks. I need you to be completely honest with me.
Don't do it. You know he'll lock you up.
"Yeah, I guess I can do that. Shoot."
"During your depressive episodes, is it safe to say you're overwhelmed with sadness, guilt, anxiety or anger?"
"Yeah I think that's accurate. A lot of the time it's anger."
"Have you had any suicidal thoughts?"
"I don't think so."
That was a lie, but it only happened once. No reason to bring it up now. That was one thing he agreed with his voice on.
"Have there ever been times were you were depressed and still heard the voice?"
"Yes. I hear it sometimes regardless of how I feel. It just happens more after an episode."
Fuller nodded, as if this is what he expected to hear.
"That's what we call a mixed affective episode. It's sort of a cross between the depression and the mania, with both happening at the same time."
"So my brain's just one big mess, is that right?"
Fuller smiled again. This time it was a reassuring smile, meant to calm JC down. It wasn't really working. They were getting down to what was wrong with him and he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.
"The good news is that you're not schizophrenic, like I said before. I can understand why you'd think that with the voice you hear, but that's not the issue here."
"That's good but...hearing a voice isn't normal. I know that."
"No, it's not. Although we refrain to use terms like 'normal' in this profession."
"Just tell me what's wrong with me already. Do it like a band-aid so I don't have to sit here and wonder anymore."
"I can do that."
Fuller adjusted the way he was sitting so he turned around to face JC directly.
"Mr. Lee, you have bipolar disorder."
JC couldn't believe what he was hearing. He wanted to ignore him, but he knew he shouldn't. He kept listening as Fuller's diagnosis got worse.
"The voice you hear is due to the psychosis you experience during episodes of mania, or times of unusual high mood or energy. Some people with bipolar disorder can become psychotic when manic or depressed. They'll have hallucinations. In this case, yours are auditory. They also have false beliefs and think they're almost superhuman, which explains why you make reckless decisions. You don't think anything bad will happen to you no matter what you do. That's the psychosis and it's a part of the entire condition."
It all made sense. As much as JC didn't want it to, it made perfect sense. The delusions of grandeur he had in the past. The mood swings. More importantly, the voice. All of it made sense. And yet, he refused to believe it.
"I can't accept that, doctor."
"Accept it or don't, Joe, but that's the diagnosis I have come to. You have moderate bipolar disorder with psychotic features. The good news is that I don't think you need to be hospitalized. You seem mostly aware of what's going on and if your wife sent you here, then you have a good support system. What you need are mood stabilizers and anti-psychotics to remove that voice from your head entirely."
He pulled out a prescription pad and began to write in it. He handed it over to JC, who was still in shock about what he heard.
"That's for lithium. Here's another for olanzapine. That should help with all of the symptoms. So will more visits with me. This is important, Joe. If you don't take this medicine, the condition will continue to get worse and I may have to question your judgment. If that's the case, then you'll be hospitalized involuntarily. I don't want to do that, because you seem like you have your life together for the most part. But I have to think of your safety and the safety of those around you."
"I don't know if I'll be able to come back here for a while. OWF is headed to Japan for two months."
"Then I suggest you get those prescriptions filled quickly and speak with me over the phone. You have my number."
JC stared down at the two pieces of paper with Fuller's signature on them. The voice screamed inside his head. He knew it wasn't sentient, but he thought perhaps it feared its own demise.
He then dismissed the thought for being too crazy, even for him.
It all made so much sense. The decisions he's made that turned out poorly. The sudden changes in personality. Even his recent OWF run had certain aspects to it that he could blame on his condition. Certainly the viciousness of his attacks on Sarin, Shaun Stewart and Lucy Wylde could be, as a normal person wouldn't go that far. Did that excuse him? Did it matter?
If he took the pills, he'd be rid of it. He could have a normal life. He could save his marriage. Maybe he could even explain things to his brother and be a family again. Stacy hadn't even met Eric yet. He could become a more productive member of the Inner Circle and really work to save the OWF, instead of secretly being part of the problem.
And yet, he wanted no part of this medicine. What if whatever was wrong with him was directly responsible for his success? Not all of the decisions he made were terrible. Some violence helped him win. Some risks saw great reward. What if this was just who he was, flaws and all? What if the medicine essentially killed his wrestling career? The voice chimed in with its take on the matter.
Without me, you are nothing.
He shoved the prescription into his pocket on the way out, refusing to give it another thought. After he climbed inside of his car, he placed his forehead on his steering wheel, closed his eyes and sighed.
