There was one prevailing thought in the mind of Joseph Davis Lee ever since the incident he witnessed on the eighth of May. It was a thought that clawed at his every waking moment. A familiar 'damned thing' told him to dwell on it and now, especially now, it was all he could think about.
That thought was vengeance. Pure, unadulterated, vengeance.
It wasn't just that he wanted to hurt Redemption. He could hurt anyone. He had hurt anyone and would do so again, whether there was malice behind it or not. He wanted Redemption to suffer in a way he reserved for so few people. The darkest thought, the one that that really kept him awake at night, was relief that he could do those terrible things to Redemption and still be a good man.
After all, didn't Redemption deserve it? Would anyone blame him for trying to end the career of his former protege if he were doing so in the name of his only brother? Didn't that make his cause just? Stacy certainly thought so and she was there for his worst. Did that make it okay? Could anything make it okay?
This thought disturbed him for a variety of reasons. First, it was a little too close for comfort to the line of thinking he had when his bipolar disorder (moderate, with psychotic features; a qualifier that never left his thoughts) was at its absolute worst. It was how he thought when he had a dark passenger whispering evil nothings into his ear and he yielded himself to its maniacal will.
Second, it made his desire to make Redemption pay too personal. It made it seem like JC was just looking for an excuse and this attack just happened to be it. JC was painfully aware of this, even as the all-consuming thought of retribution failed to leave him. It was a singularly odd feeling to want something so bad and then have guilt over wanting it.
He had tried to dismiss all of these thoughts. He had plenty to focus on. He was now training for a return to the ring. His wife would give birth in a little over a month. And, perhaps more pressing at this point in time, his brother was trying to gain the ability to walk again.
It was this fact that kept the thoughts of vengeance and violence omnipresent in his mind, especially as he watched his brother attempt his physical therapy exercises. Especially when he saw the pain and determination on his face. And he had to see it every time, because he was the one who took GI to his appointments. He wouldn't let anyone else. The guilt of not being there to stop the attack was almost as destructive on his thought process as the rage.
He was witness to one of those appointments on this particular day.
Eric had no other options and since he felt guilty anyway, Joe offered to drive him to physical therapy. It was painful just to hear what the end result was. Every single ligament in his brother's knee was torn to varying degrees. Luckily they all were all partial tears, but the real kicker was the fractured kneecap. He watched with concerned eyes as a doctor numbed the knee and then placed a finger down into the middle, confirming the kneecap was split in half.
Emergency surgery was required and now Eric would spend months in agonizing physical therapy just trying to walk again. Between everything, he would be healing between three to six months.
All JC wanted was to make Redemption suffer for every single second that his brother did. Was that too much to ask for?
"Joe, are you awake in there?"
He was so lost in thought he didn't notice Eric waving a hand in front of his face, attempting to bring him out of the quicksand of thoughts he was currently exploring. The two were sitting in front of the sports rehabilitation office, where GI was set for his first therapy appointment. If he didn't get started early, the knee could stiffen up and make it impossible to move later. Although at this point he couldn't do a lot, as a fracture takes a while to heal, especially if there has been displacement.
"Sorry, bro...I'm just thinking."
"Yeah, no shit. I've been trying to get your attention for a solid minute. You were just staring off into space after we pulled up."
The vehicle was a nondescript rental he got because he wanted Stacy and her sister to have their car in case the baby decided to come early. Joe was a bit concerned he got so deep in thought while driving but attributed it to the whirlwind of emotions he was feeling and decided to ignore it. Now was not the time to worry about himself.
"Do you want me to wait out here, or come inside and watch?"
"I'd rather you didn't see. I've done this before and it's a little embarrassing to struggle with simple movement."
"Yeah, I know. I broke my neck, remember?"
"Right."
It was GI's turn to sit now, contemplating his current state in life. It almost seemed like he didn't want to go in there. The look on his face suggested he felt like spending the rest of his life on crutches instead of going through the agony and struggle he knew he was in for.
"You know, the doctors still aren't sure I'll ever compete again."
"It's a nasty injury. All your ligaments..."
"It's not that. It's the displaced kneecap. Unless that fuses together just right while it heals..."
"It will. You might have to abandon that CodeRed of yours but you're good enough to adjust when you're back."
"That's just it..."
Eric looked at Joe with an expression his older brother wasn't used to. It was the look of a man who felt utterly defeated. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Joe blamed himself for the pain in GI's eyes.
"...I don't know if I want to go back."
It would be a lie to label this statement as a surprise, but JC couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. GI may have lost the tournament he was in, but he was set for big things in Carnage, just as he was the OWF. He was arguably at his peak and Redemption robbed his career from him. All to take a shot at JC.
"Don't say that. You're just down because of the hard work you have to do."
"Joe, I'm 36. I have a serious knee injury and..."
It was visibly difficult for him to get the words out. It was like Eric was finally admitting something to himself that he had been fighting for sometime. Perhaps that was the case.
"...I just don't know if I want to fight my way back to be a shell of who I was."
"Look at it this way. I spent two years out with a broken neck. Most guys are out for a year. It was serious. But I did my best work after that."
"I know but that's you."
"Yeah and you're better than me."
The two locked eyes for a moment, trying to read each other's faces to get a handle on how the conversation should proceed. GI didn't have as many accolades as JC did, but JC always knew he was better. Joe had the passion and the work ethic, and Eric had the natural ability and charisma. On top of that, he was a good man. He always had been.
"Thanks."
"I mean it. I've had to work twice as hard as you to get as good as I am because it always seemed like you could adapt to anything. You don't deserve this. If anyone does..."
"Joe, don't."
"...it's me. It should have been me in that ring. I should have been there, damn it."
To emphasize the last point, Joe punched his steering wheel. The horn went off with an audible honk. It was mostly a reflex decision, a temporary yet explosive burst of anger akin to the old JC. Because even as he sat there having a heart-to-heart with his brother, he was carrying a secret. Joe wasn't feeling well inside his head. His concussion had messed with his medication schedule to the point where it was now erratic at best. Even as he tried to gain control he'd always put it off until the last minute. No, it was now as true as the fact that his brother would be limping his way around for the next six months.
Joe was not well.
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July 10, 2017
It was an interesting sensation to watch a match from backstage. It's not as if Joe didn't do it before, but in this particular case he had a vested interest in seeing his best friend defeat Redemption. JC had been a little selfish in his pursuit of his new masked rival. While he knew that Redemption had also targeted Trent and harmed his children (something JC wouldn't have done even in his darkest moments), Joe more or less decided that Trent can handle his own problems and focused on how best to hurt the former Drake Munday.
The means to hurt him was sitting in a black duffel bag to the right of his feet. It was the sledgehammer Redemption used to injure his brother, which was not easy to obtain, and the OWF World Heavyweight Championship.
As Trent tried to stomp Redemption's ribcage out through his back, JC reached into his bag and wrapped his fingers around the belt. He regarded the weight and admired the gold plate on the front. He had to remind himself that this was just an object, and it was more important in his attempted use than to placate his ego.
After all, it was a milestone he long sought and finally achieved, and now it was a useless piece of junk. He couldn't defend this. He couldn't brag about being the champion of a dead federation. No, it would serve a better purpose if he smashed it and did serious psychological harm to Redemption.
And yet something bothered him.
He turned the thoughts over in his mind, trying to figure out what was keeping him from going out and essentially declaring war on the man that tried to cripple his brother.
That's when he remembered the first day of Eric's therapy. Not just the talk of him not returning, but going outside and finding a window on the grounds to keep an eye on things. He watched the pain etch itself on his brother's face as he was simply practicing putting weight on the leg. He was just trying to touch his toe to the floor and it was apparently creating waves of discomfort by the expressions Joe saw.
The profound sadness he felt was washed away quickly by an anger that had only been dulled over the past two months. It was dulled by the birth of his child. It was dulled by his return to the ring. It was dulled by his own brother.
He remembered GI's words to him clearly.
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JC was just getting over his latest flirtation with rage by the time his brother stepped out of the therapy office and was helped into the car. Just seeing Eric's tired, pained face had him digging his fingers into the steering wheel. He looked like he aged ten years in the forty-five minutes he was in there. Joe tried to muster up the best cheer he could, not letting on that he did a little protective spying in the interim.
"How'd it go?"
GI put on a brave face as he shifted in his seat, which was pushed back to allow more space for the leg he couldn't really bend yet. The kneecap was still in a cast so all he could really do is attempt to strengthen the muscles. They both knew it would get worst when the leg was no longer immobilized and he had to begin breaking up the scar tissue.
"It was rough, but I think I can manage."
"So listen, about what we talked about before.."
"Joe, my mind's not made up about quitting yet."
"Not that. I mean what happened."
"And how you think it's your fault?"
"Yes."
GI looked at him for a moment, pausing to pick out exactly what words he wanted to use. It seemed as though he had no time for this. The fatigue was settling into his body now and soon it would be time to ice down his leg and take another painkiller, if he hadn't already.
"Even if it was your fault, there's nothing that can be done about it. It happened and I'm hurt."
There was bitterness in his brother's words, even if he didn't know it. Joe noticed he didn't say it wasn't Joe's fault, but he decided not to bring it up. Sometimes people say what they really mean when they're mind is too exhausted to form the barriers necessary to keep the truth contained.
"So let's just focus on getting me better and go from there."
"You're wrong."
"About what?"
"There is something that can be done."
Joe spoke the the words slowly and solemnly. It was as if he'd spent the entire month preparing for this very conversation, ready to get his brother's blessing to do some horrible things to a horrible person. With anyone else, Trent, perhaps, he'd have it right away. With Eric, it was different.
Eric was inherently a good person. He had an arrogant attitude at times in the ring, but outside of it he was fundamentally good. He helped others, he was easy-going and he generally enjoyed life in spite of all of the negatives that came his way. Joe himself provided several, including a seven-year-gap where they didn't even speak. When he settled issues as GI, he did so in the ring and with as much honor as the situation could allow.
So what he said next was not a surprise. Not even by a little.
"Don't you dare."
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."
"I know firsthand the places you go when you're like that, Joe. We just got you back. Stacy, me, even that asshole Trent. If you let yourself go to that place again..."
"You're talking like I have no self-control. You think all it takes is something like this to send me over the edge."
GI said nothing. In a way, he didn't have to. After all this time, he still didn't completely trust Joe. They still weren't there yet, no matter what Joe did. He wondered if they ever would be.
"It's not that."
A blatant lie.
"I just don't want you to put yourself in that position. You've got a good thing going right now. Yeah, I'm hurt but I can handle Redemption. He's my fight."
"He's only your fight because he wanted to get to me."
"I don't care. I don't want you doing this. I just got my brother back, I don't want to lose him to whatever you were last year. Stay out of this. Let Trent and Redemption kill each other, but you stay out of it."
"I can't promise that."
"Why not?"
Joe thought about this answer long and hard. He knew why, in his heart, why he wanted to do this. Eric was part of it. He was a huge part of it. But deep down, he wanted to hurt Redemption. He didn't want to admit it, not even to himself, but a part of him wanted him to bleed for this.
"Redemption deserves this. He shouldn't get away with it and you know it."
GI sighed. They were both hitting a brick wall trying to bring the other to their side. He ran a hand through his hair, tied back into a ponytail, and gave himself a moment.
"You think this is your fault, right?"
He gestured at his knee, to drive home his point.
"Yes."
"Then make it right and stay out of it. If not for yourself, then because I'm asking you."
They sat in silence once again. To break it, Joe started the engine in his car and prepared to leave. But before he did, he decided to give his brother what he wanted...for now.
"I promise."
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July 10, 2017
On the backstage monitor, Trent was now unraveling a barbed wire baseball bat for what JC assumed was a nefarious purpose. He turned his head away and glanced back down at the bag, now closed up with its contents neatly contained.
He made a promise a month and a half ago and he intended to break it tonight. He knew GI would be upset. A small part of him didn't care. Redemption was going too far. The man was harming children, he was fighting for the right to make someone his slave and he injured someone just because. He was a mad dog and he needed to be put down.
At least, that's the rationale JC provided to himself to justify his actions. GI would be angry with the broken promise, he may even be hurt, but it had to be done. He had his plan in place. It was time to finally fire the returning salvo in what would be a long and drawn out war.
He looked back at the monitor and saw Redemption covering a bloody and beaten Trent Steel. He didn't wait for the three count. His hand laced around the bag and he picked it up, departing for the stage.
He was about to declare war. It was a war that he knew could take him to some dark places. It was a war that could be the end of him. But if he was going down, he'd take that man in the mask with him.
He uttered a small, silent apology to his brother for letting him down, then stepped through the curtain.
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But time is a flat circle.
Almost to the day we fought last year, I've got to lace my boots for battle against my best friend again. This time I'm not doing it because I hate him, or because my own illness convinced me that I was betrayed.
This time I'm doing it just so I can get a little vengeance on one man. That same man is too much of a coward to face me himself. And he had the nerve, the sheer, unmitigated gall, to accuse me of ducking him. I should point out he did this only minutes after I just challenged him to a fight. Then, instead of accepting my request, he forced Trent to fight me instead.
But that's who Redemption is. That's who Drake Munday is. That's who he's always been. He's been afraid his entire life. The mask doesn't make him a different person. It just allows him to hide the terrified expression on his face. He's afraid to face the reality that the OWF is gone and there's nothing he can do about it.
Not only that, but he's afraid to face me. It's true, he did beat me in our last encounter, but his version of history is skewed. Our paths didn't cross again because I had better things to do. Perhaps they were not all that successful, but taking a loss to Lorenzo DeMarco or easily defeating Sebastian Steel are a lot better than sharing a ring with the disgrace that is Drake Munday or Redemption or whatever the fuck he wants to call himself.
You know what Redemption? You're talented. I'd have to be crazy not to admit that and my psychiatrist tells me I'm not anymore. But that talent doesn't mean anything to me. I don't think it means anything to you. You beat me once. Once. All I wanted then was a tournament win. But you've never really went to war with me, have you Redemption?
The thought of truly going to war with me scares you, doesn't it? Because you've seen what I am. You know what I can do. You're afraid that if you really, really decide to get into it with me, you're not going to be the same. You were there when I beat Nick Perry into a bloody pulp. You were there when I put Moxie Roxie in traction. These are not things that I'm proud of, but they are who I can be. So knowing that, you decided to put me against someone who is fearless.
Trent, I think it's safe to say I love you like a brother. You were the best man at my wedding and I owe everything I have now to you. I know you're, at least in part, fighting against your will. I'm not sure how legally binding slavery is but I'll assume Redemption has you for now. I know you'll get out of it, but until then, you have to fight me. He's probably told you to hurt me. But I think you know I can take it, just as I know you can.
I may see you as family, Trent, but Redemption has hurt my actual flesh and blood. He has to pay for what he's done. He bought this and now it's time for him to own it. He's set you as perhaps my final obstacle. He either wants you to rid him of me for good or he wants me to add you to the people I've destroyed in my life.
He'll get neither.
I'm going to hurt you Trent, that's obvious. You can't get through a simple wrestling match without pain, and we're battling for thirty minutes straight. But you can take it. Just like you can take the loss that I have to provide to get the match I truly want. We've fought before and I'm sure we'll fight again, but if I didn't destroy our friendship last year, then what hope does Redemption have?
I don't want you to feel bad, Trent. I don't want you to fight me because that masked idiot told you to. You fight me because you have something to prove. You fight me like the son of a bitch you are and you prove that you're worth a damn. We'll put on a show and then go right back to being The Rogues.
Our bond is unbreakable, but once I beat you, we'll see that Redemption is not.
