And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder:
One of the four beasts saying: "Come and see." And I saw.
And behold, a white horse.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
February 6, 2017
"I told you before. I'm done with you."
The wretched thing sat in the corner of the darkened room, its hair matted in clumps against its face. It was emaciated, as even in what little light there was, Joe could spot a rib or two poking out of the side of its abdomen. Its back was turned to him now, and Joe could visibly make out the nodules on its spine. He heard it hiss its words, although its mouth never moved. It was talking to him in his own head.
Done with me? You can't be done with me. I'm a part of you.
The damned thing then stood up, its joints crackling and popping. It moaned in the empty void, although Joe couldn't tell if it was from pleasure or pain. He felt a lurching feeling in his stomach, obvious nausea from seeing this skeletal specter in front of him. He didn't know why he was here talking to it. He hadn't spoken to it in almost a year. He stopped letting it control him. He was a new person. A better person.
"That's what the medicine is for."
For now. I think we both know you need me as much as I need you.
It turned to face him, and he caught its wide, bloodshot eye turn its gaze on him. A wicked, ghoulish smile climbed up the side of its cheek, revealing a mouth full of jagged, diseased teeth. It spun around on the balls of its bony feet and then got back into a crouching position, before crooning at him with that disgusting smile. It pointed at him, its thin hand covered with lesions.
You neeeeeeeeeed me. Sooooooooooon we will be together again. Sooooooooooooon. Sooooooo....
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
JC's eyes opened as a car sped by, its headlights piercing the dark night and briefly filling the inside of his car with white. JC quickly stuck his head out the window and vomited, the nausea being more than just a feeling in his dream.
It was probably a bad idea for JC to attempt to drive back to hotel on his own after his match with Jet Somers. It was even worse that he felt groggy and pulled over, allowing himself a brief respite from the unusual tiredness that plagued him. He knew exactly what was wrong with him. He experienced it before and the medical staff informed him when they gave him an examination. It was a concussion. But here he was, trying to silence the ringing in his ears with just a few moments of sleep.
But when sleep came, so did a familiar voice, somewhere in the back of his mind. A familiar enemy wearing the disguise of a helpful friend. The voice was calm. It wasn't at all angry that it had been ignored, silenced for as long as it had. This wasn't the first time that it took a horrific appearance in his nightmares. Although those nightmares had been few and far between since his medication really started to manage his bipolar disorder, they were immensely frightening when they did happen.
JC, the man who regularly claimed he was without fear, was now afraid of something. It was never something he'd admit to anyone except his closest companions, but it was easy to see if you paid attention to him. He was afraid of becoming the man, the monster, he once was. He didn't think of mental illness as monstrous, but who he became when he was untreated and doing as his baser instincts demanded was.
"Fuck..."
He groaned as he pulled his head back inside the vehicle. He knew exactly what this was. It was symptoms of a concussion, and possibly a bad one. He was familiar with the signs because this happened to him before. The only problem was that was eight years ago. So now he was someone who had two major concussions that he knew of and possibly minor ones that he didn't. Hadn't he heard that it gets worse with each new blow?
His head throbbed, the blood vessels pounding along his scalp. He weakly reached up to rub the sides of his temples. He didn't want to move, for fear of vomiting again. He was in no condition to drive. He knew that not long after leaving the KeyArena. That's why he was parked.
Another car sped past, the mere sound of it nearby feeling like daggers on his brain. He definitely could not drive in this condition. The last time he had a concussion this bad, he competed the next week in a grueling match. But that was a long time ago and he was no longer the physically dominant 33-year-old he once was.
He reached into his glove compartment and fumbled around for his cell phone. He had a wife at home who was four months pregnant and he knew he had to tell her what's going on.
Joe heard a groggy voice on the other end. It was much later in Jersey. She didn't, nor did he expect her to, stay up long enough to catch the show.
"Joe? What time is it?"
"It's...it's late. But I have to tell you something. I won't be home tomorrow."
"Why not?"
"You didn't see the match, did you?"
"I was going to, but..."
"It's fine."
He could hear worry in her voice, and he hated it. But this had to be done. She had to know, because he knew exactly what was going to happen next.
"I'm about to call 911, and have myself taken to a hospital. I tried to drive back to the hotel, and I just can't. I'm too...out of it."
"Joe, what happened?"
"Jet Somers put my lights out. He...he kneed me right in the face and I'm pretty sure I've got a concussion."
"Oh my God.."
He felt ill again, and just talking on the phone was prolonging the headache.
"You don't have to worry, Stacy. I've been through this before."
"You told me that. You also told me how bad it was."
"This is nothing like that."
He lied, of course. It was exactly like that. Maybe even worse. What irritated him was the fact that he's been kneed in the face before. It was a common thing in his line of work. Just back in October, a man named Lorenzo DeMarco did it and broke his nose. So what was it about the knee from Somers that caused this to happen?
"Are you going to be okay?"
"Once I get the doctors to look at me I'm sure I will. But they're not going to let me fly home tomorrow."
"I should fly to Seattle."
"Absolutely not. You have the baby to worry about."
"I can still fly, Joe."
"Stacy..."
"Don't 'Stacy' me. My man's hurt, I'm coming to take care of him."
Now he regretted calling. He knew she would worry, he didn't think she would fly to Seattle to play nurse.
"Look, obviously I can't stop you. I just had to let you know what's going on with me. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize Joe. I'm just fulfilling my duties as a wife."
A smile crept across his face in spite of himself.
"Are you saying you're obligated to worry about my health because of our marriage?"
She laughed on the other end. This woman was full of surprises.
"Something like that."
"Stace, listen...I need to let you go. I've got to get this looked at because I feel absolutely awful."
"Take care of yourself, Joe. Text me the hospital once you're admitted. I love you."
"I love you too."
He ended the call, and then rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. This was a long night. He wanted to go to sleep, but knew he shouldn't. He wished he had painkillers, but knew he couldn't mix just anything with his medication. He felt like throwing up again, but since he was confident it would just be dry heaving, he forced the urge back down.
It was just a terrible night all around. No doubt about it.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
JC couldn't get the images out of his head from the nightmare he had shortly after he received his latest injury. He was never one to understand the way his brain worked, and why it would give his dark passenger a decidedly inhuman look. The sick grin haunted him.
It did so even as he tried to count the number of times he'd been in a hospital bed exactly like this one in his seventeen-year career. He was actually counting them off on his fingers at the start, then got distracted and lost count. He would never consider himself injury-prone, but he did accumulate far more injuries in his career than was probably healthy. When you totaled up the concussions, the various wounds, the broken jaw, the broken neck...it was a lot.
It could be assumed that the concern over his physical health might take precedence over the bogeyman he invented a way to demonize his mental illness, but this was not the case. Still, worrying about it wasn't going to make it go away. The pills would do that. He just had to remember to keep taking them and he'd be fine. It was a lifelong commitment but if there's one thing JC was, it was dedicated.
"I wish that doctor would come back with your test results."
Stacy said what he was thinking, but he kept his mouth shut. This was nothing new to him. Not even this specific injury, although he hated going through it again.
"I'm sure it's fine. What's the worst, I'm out a month?"
"I don't know, they're really strict with concussions these days."
"You didn't watch that movie with Will Smith on the way over here, did you?"
"No, not again."
The waiting was the worst part. He knew everything he had to do. He had to rest, he had to avoid any more trauma and he couldn't fly back. That was fine. He'd pick up a car from Enterprise and take turns with his wife getting back home. He knew all the rules. This time he wouldn't be subjecting himself to a steel cage Wargames match, so he felt just fine relaxing for a bit. Then he could work on returning and giving Jet Somers his own concussion to complete the set.
The dark thought of intentionally injuring another man passed before JC could dwell on it. He was angry, after all. Why wouldn't he want to hurt Somers? It didn't mean he would actually try it. Although, if his boot just happened to connect just right...
"...Joe? I'm talking to you!"
Stacy glared at him, half-irritated and half-worried. He was lost in his thoughts again.
"Sorry, babe. Just thinking."
"Yeah, and you know I hate it when you space out like that."
"You're right. How about you climb into this hospital bed with me and stop me?"
She smirked at him.
"Even if I wanted to, I've got this baby bump that's starting to make it hard to climb into anything. Which, by the way, happened the last time you convinced me to get into a bed and stop you from thinking too much."
"I think it makes you look sexy."
This made her laugh, even though she was still trying to feign annoyance.
"Oh shut up."
"No, I'm serious. Get over here and let me show you."
She stepped forward, laughing, and he simply reached forward and kissed the growing belly. His present and his future were in front of him in one package and he could always calm himself by remembering that. He helped her up into the bed with him, scooting over so she could lay next to him. It was just a little smaller than a twin bed but they made it work.
"I still can't believe we're going to be parents."
"I still can't believe how much this little baby turns you into mush."
"I'm going to be a dad. I can't help it. I almost wasn't sure it was going to happen."
"Yeah...and you'll be hobbling along at 59 to see her off to college."
"Hey, you'll be 55. Maybe all that blonde hair of yours will go grey by then."
"No way, I'll dye it before I let that happen."
"Not ready to be a grandma yet, huh?"
"Let's see how I do at being a mother first."
He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head as she laid it on his shoulder.
"You'll be fine. We'll both be. Assuming we don't die in this hospital because the doctor didn't visit us."
She held in a giggle and he hugged her closer, perhaps in an attempt to coax it out. He did love her laugh. He loved everything about her, especially because she flew all the way across the country just to be there with him when he went through his hell.
The two were interrupted from the doctor, who had a bemused look on his face when he saw them together in the bed.
"Well, I guess I don't need to ask if you're comfortable, Mr. Lee."
He caught his wife blushing, and she promptly slipped down off the bed and retook her place in the chair. Even then, she placed her hand in his, as if to let him know she wasn't far away.
"Okay, so with everything you've told us about your symptoms, with the CT scan and MRI we did and the various cognitive tests, I've determined that you have a grade-two concussion. It's not as serious as the one listed in your medical history, but it's nothing to sneeze at, either."
"If' it's not as serious, then what's the problem?"
"The problem is the fact you take blow to the head often and have suffered at least one concussion that you know of in the past. Repeated concussions can lead to more concussions, which can eventually lead to brain damage. I don't think I need you to direct to the recent NFL cases of players with CTE."
"No, we've...we've seen the movie."
"Then you should know how serious this is. I'm going to fax everything to your doctor in New Jersey but I wouldn't be surprised if he concurred with me. Mr. Lee, it is my recommendation that you consider retiring from professional wrestling. With your history, your injury and your age, I can't recommend that you continue."
Suddenly, it felt as though the bottom had dropped from the room and he was falling. It was not at all what he expected. He'd had this before. He was fine. Even now, outside of a slight headache, he felt good. What this Seattle doctor was telling him made absolutely no sense.
"Mr. Lee?"
"Joe?"
"Yeah, yeah, I heard you, it's just..."
"I know. It's not the news you wanted to hear."
"Especially because it's not going to happen."
Stacy squeezed his hand, concerned. He gave her a look. She would worry, he knew that. But he also knew that she knew he wouldn't make any rash decisions. This wasn't one of them.
"I don't think you understand..."
"No, I understand perfectly. It's your opinion, as a general physician, that I retire from wrestling. But I disagree. But you need to understand me. I've come back from a lot worse than this. So I'm going to find myself a specialist, I'm going to rest up and I'm going to keep getting tests until I get.."
..the result I want, he thought bitterly. He wouldn't say that out loud, to anyone, but in that moment he had a feeling that's where this could go.
"Until I get cleared. Because I will get cleared. I'm strong and I've come back from worse."
He noticed he had repeated himself and didn't care.
"I know you wrestler types have egos, but you need to consider the feelings of your wife, of your unborn child, if you don't care about yourself."
Joe felt anger bubbling up inside of him. It wasn't enough that this doctor had to tell him to quit the thing he loved doing, but now he tried to use his own family as emotional bargaining chips just to hear that Joe would go along with his idea? "Yes doctor, you're right. You're such an expert at your job and I'll do anything you say." The nerve of the man had Joe feeling more than a little incredulous.
But it wasn't Joe who got to tell him so. It was Stacy.
"Listen here, doctor. You're not Joe's regular physician so you don't actually know him. Yeah, I worry about him constantly when he's on the road putting his body on the line, but I've accepted that this is what he loves to do. And I've seen him improve leaps and bounds from things other doctors, like you, have told him he shouldn't compete with. So don't you sit there and use my baby as some ploy to talk him down. If he says he'll get better, then who the hell are you to deny him the chance?"
The doctor looked a little ashamed. After all, here he was condemning a man with his diagnosis and then almost insulting him for wanting to get a second opinion.
"You're right, Mrs. Lee. I'm sorry. I was out of line. But Joseph...please consider what I'm saying. The human brain is very fragile, and whether you may think so right now or not, I do care about the well being of the people I see. Your nurse will be in shortly to discharge you."
As the doctor turned around and left, Joe glanced at his wife and silently thanked her with a gentle squeeze of her hand.
"Can you believe the nerve of that guy?"
"I'm just glad you're the one who lost your temper."
"Well, he brought my kid into it."
"I think you're going to make a great mom, Stace."
They sat silently now, waiting for the nurse to let Joe leave. They had a busy day now, as they had to begin a cross-country drive to get home, then he had to make arrangements with his Carnage and UGWC bosses to let them know he was out indefinitely.
It was in that moment that thoughts of the nightmare came to him, and Joe wondered if he had the opportunity to take his medicine. He was sure he had, but couldn't remember when. He guessed that he had and just forgot, because concussions and post-concussion syndrome can cause some memory hiccups. Even if he hadn't, he was sure, almost positive, that he could miss it today and take it tomorrow. As the doctors always say, it's better to take your missed dose as soon as possible than double up. He didn't know a lot about his pills, but he was sure that doubling up would be catastrophic.
Little did he realize, as he headed out for the first of many appointments to look over test results for his brain, that this was the third day in a row he went without his medication. He forgot that too. The headaches and the brief lapses in memory, as a result of the concussion had him forgetting daily activities and then forgetting he forgot. Not to mention the day of Infinity itself, when he meant to take it following his match with Somers but was too out of it to remember.
That would be troubling once he remembered. Troubling to all but one part of him. A part deep inside, locked away, that waited for an opportunity to come out.
Somewhere inside of him, in the back of his mind where not even he could possibly notice, the damned thing chuckled, knowing it would have its chance again.
Soon.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And yet, I've never been one.
The OWF, this fed that you people seem to claim I have an undying love for...I tried to end it twice. I played a huge part in doing so on one occasion. I've no great love for the OWF. Chase Johnson can go shove his head into an electric fence for all I care, although this time he won't get my help in doing so. So why people in this promotion seem to think I can't get over the loss of it, I have no idea. A place I worked at closed and now I move on to another place. I dominate the roster. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
I loved the competition in OWF. I loved testing myself against the likes of wrestlers that I haven't found since. No, not even the guy who beat me at Infinity. I'm not going to make excuses. Jet Somers pinned me. I had to go back and watch the tape to see it happen, but apparently that's what he did. It's almost ironic that Somers gave me a concussion, because I used to hand them out like candy when I didn't care about the well-being of others.
It's not the loss that bothers me. I've had embarrassing losses to nobodies in my career before, and I bounced back. It happens to the best of us.
The thing is, Jet Somers had me all wrong. Had.
I didn't come here expecting to be treated different. I came here expecting to put in work, do what I always do and get myself to the top. That was before Mr. Somers decided to drive his knees into my skull and put my entire career in jeopardy. That was before he mocked me afterward. Does that amuse you? That you put me in the hospital? Does it make you giggle that made my pregnant wife an anxious wreck?
If that's the kind of wrestler the UGWC boasts on its roster, then maybe we should turn our noses up at it. Maybe we should just cleanse the ranks of this place with the lot of you and start fresh. Do you really, truly expect me to believe that what you did was an accident? You hated the fact that three wrestlers from another promotion were courted due to their skills and came in to take a spot that you falsely believe is yours. I'm willing to bet you can't stand it.
I could sit here trying to explain to you why I joined UGWC, why I took a dislike to you and how I feel about OWF but none of it really matters. I know your type, Mr. Gatekeeper. Trust me, I've had a lot of time to think about this.
You're the type of guy that thinks he's bigger or more important than he is. I've met a few of you in my lifetime. Your constant touting of "gatekeeper" isn't a compliment. It isn't an accolade. It's you that everyone goes through when they reach the top. Those that don't, aren't quite cut out for it. You're just important enough to be considered the first step towards a great run in UGWC, but not important enough to matter yourself. Eight years ago I got a grade three concussion and all you could muster was a grade-two. That's the story of your sad, pathetic life, isn't it? You can just never measure up to what others have done before you.
This has caused you to have an inferiority complex, and you feel the need to outright attack everyone who wants a fresh start, along with your little gang.
Congratulations on removing CJ Wylde from the equation. Not that you had a single thing to do with it, but he doesn't seem like he's coming back any time soon. Lucy, you had to begrudgingly give your respect to when she beat you. Well of course, because she passed your little bullshit test. She goes along and continues to prove herself in spite of the fact that no one ever really wanted her to be here to begin with.
As for me, you only delayed me. Contrary to popular belief, I didn't quit UGWC. I didn't get fired. I have some personal business to attend to elsewhere and once that's done, I'm going to come back and claim my spot at the top again. Because that's what I do. I'm the best in this business and I prove it every single time I'm in the ring. Whatever happens, my opponents know that they've fought the best.
The reason that you people didn't like CJ, or myself or Lucy isn't because we had some soft spot for the place we used to work for. No, the real reason is intimidation. You saw the cream of the crop banding together and plying our trade elsewhere and you couldn't take it. Your precious spot, one that you don't even deserve, was in jeopardy. So you got together with your mean girls club and you disrespected people you had no business disrespecting.
I'll give you this Jet. You did beat me. So I'm not going to blow smoke up your ass and say you can't do it. It's possible.
But I'll be damned if I let some UGWC afterthought not put respect on my name when he addresses me.
So I'll tell you what. You continue preaching your narrative to whoever will listen. I've been mostly silent since my concussion and that's because while you've been going for that solid .500 average, I've been training. I've been working on technique. I've been preparing for this night, in this match, with you. But there's no pressure. Because even if I somehow get caught with your knee and lose again, at least I've put more work into this one match than you've put into anything in your entire godforsaken career. You can't even concuss me as well as others have.
Win or lose, Jet Somers, I'm going to make you feel it. I'm going to hurt you. I'm giving you that receipt you've been owed for six long months. Six months of tests. Six months of pain. Six months of depression. Six months of anxiety that I may never be cleared. Six months of worrying my wife about something other than the birth of our daughter.
You cost me six months of my livelihood and for that, I'm going to make you suffer. Win or lose, you're going to get hurt. Win or lose, you're going to give me the respect I've earned in my seventeen-year career. I've come too far and sacrificed too much to have some little shit like you think you can insult me, injure me and get away with it. So go ahead and believe what you want. Laugh with your buddies about injuring another human being just because you don't like where they used to work.
You don't want me here? That's fine. I haven't been wanted anywhere I've competed. That hasn't stopped me from rising to the top and booting people like you in the face. Go ahead. Damn me. Scorn me. Try to hurt me again.
I'm used to being damned.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts,
And I looked and behold: a pale horse.
And his name, that sat on him, was Death.
And Hell followed with him.
