"People who try hard to do the right thing always seem mad."
- The Stand, Stephen King
July 10, 2017
"What the hell is your problem?"
JC knew when he answered his phone mere moments after Chaos 38 ended, that he would be speaking to GI. He knew it, because he knew his brother. He also knew this conversation would be coming almost immediately after it happened, because he made a promise and couldn't keep it. What he didn't know is how angry his brother would be and how exactly this conversation was going to go.
"I take it you saw the show?"
He was sitting backstage now, staring at the crushed OWF World title. A piece or two had fallen off during the journey backstage, as made sure to strike it dead center to put a metaphorical stake in the heart of Redemption. It was time, Joe felt, that Redemption felt a little heartache. He remembered feeling melancholy prior to making this decision but now that he did it, he felt a lot better. The milestone may have been important but if he was honest, he was disgusted just looking at the belt.
The OWF title represented the past. It represented a wrestling promotion where JC wasn't the best he could be, and by the time he got to prove his worth it was closed. It was an object forever reminding him that he became King Nothing of the OWF, with his crown the only thing remaining of his crumbled kingdom. It was worthless. It was metal strapped to a bit of leather, holding no importance to anyone.
Anyone, that is, except Drake Munday.
Joe couldn't see Redemption's face under that unremarkable black and red mask, but he could definitely read body language. He hurt him. He finally pierced the black heart of Redemption and reminded him of what loss could truly feel like. It was truly the one advantage of being a veteran. His mind was still incredibly sharp, even if at times it seemed like his body was nearing its plateau of how far he could push it. The injuries were definitely piling on quicker than they used to.
He noticed a piece of the metal sticking out of the leather band and pulled it off, before Eric finally answered him on the phone.
"You told me you wouldn't get involved, Joe."
"I did say that."
"So what the fuck?"
It was a valid question and Joe had to take a minute to think of exactly how he wanted to put it. Did he want to tell his brother the truth?
Hey Eric, the reason I went back on your word is because I needed to hurt someone and Drake Munday was an acceptable target.
Hey Eric, the reason I broke my promise is because I've been feeling more and more angry lately. And have I mentioned that I haven't been keeping up with my medication?
No, neither one of those answers would do at all, no matter how true they were. His medication was something he needed, but life had been hectic and sometimes you forget. Then you forget again. Then you hear the chuckling waking you up in the middle of the night, praying to whatever deity that looks after worn-down wrestling veterans that it was just a dream.
"I only planned to do anything if Redemption beat Trent."
A lie. Blatantly so, but he thought he might be able to give it enough spin that his brother would buy it. Or at least enough so that he would lay off of him until he did what he had to do.
"Trent's going to need my help if that maniac has him doing whatever he wants."
Of course, this may or may not be true, but Trent Steel was not in his thoughts when he came up with this plan. Trent Steel wasn't in his thoughts when he executed the plan. The only time Trent came into the equation is when Redemption tried to hurt him some more and JC used that to his advantage. The scenario worked out, but that cold and calculating effort was a little too close to the old JC for him to handle, so he tried his best not to think about it. For all the things Trent Steel had done for him, JC's best friend wasn't on his mind as much as others might think. As they days and weeks passed since the attack, neither was Eric. GI would get better, but JC might never be able to.
"I don't know if you've heard, but Redemption went after his kids too. Someone had to put a stop it."
"But it's like I said before, Joe. I don't want to lose my brother..."
"Yes, I know. Trust me. I'm being careful. I can play this game without losing myself. I've got Redemption exactly where I want him just playing with his mind."
He didn't know if that was true or not, but it sounded right. It sounded like something his brother would want to hear. He wished his thoughts weren't so murky right now. He needed to get back on a regular medication routine. He was a father to a little girl now. He had to think of her.
There was silence on the other end of the phone, as if GI was contemplating what he was just told.
"I just don't want you to end up like you were, that's all."
"I know that. I don't either. That is the last thing that I want."
More silence. He was forming his judgment on the matter now. He saw the whole thing, he heard Joe's words and now he was deciding if the puzzle pieces fit together to make a picture he was happy with.
"You did get him good though."
Joe bit his lip to keep a sigh of relief from getting out, forcing the air out of his nose in large exhale.
"Yeah, I did. He really lost his shit out there. I just wish it was you out there kicking him in the head instead of me."
"Right now I'd like to walk again."
He was once again noncommittal on returning to the ring. The conversation happened once or twice before and he was still contemplating retirement. Joe didn't like it, but it wasn't exactly a decision he had any control over.
"You will. You're getting better ever a little bit each day. You had a major surgery. It's going to take time. Believe me."
"Yeah, I guess you would know."
"I didn't get the scar on my neck from shaving."
"When do you shave the back of your neck?"
Joe smiled a bit, as the conversation was quickly turning casual. No more words about what he did and the state of mind he was in when he did it. No more risk of uncomfortable truths being told. Just two brothers having a friendly conversation. JC was glad the conversation was just over the phone.
He didn't need Eric to see how much he was sweating with anxiety.
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JC knew when he answered his phone mere moments after Chaos 38 ended, that he would be speaking to GI. He knew it, because he knew his brother. He also knew this conversation would be coming almost immediately after it happened, because he made a promise and couldn't keep it. What he didn't know is how angry his brother would be and how exactly this conversation was going to go.
"I take it you saw the show?"
He was sitting backstage now, staring at the crushed OWF World title. A piece or two had fallen off during the journey backstage, as made sure to strike it dead center to put a metaphorical stake in the heart of Redemption. It was time, Joe felt, that Redemption felt a little heartache. He remembered feeling melancholy prior to making this decision but now that he did it, he felt a lot better. The milestone may have been important but if he was honest, he was disgusted just looking at the belt.
The OWF title represented the past. It represented a wrestling promotion where JC wasn't the best he could be, and by the time he got to prove his worth it was closed. It was an object forever reminding him that he became King Nothing of the OWF, with his crown the only thing remaining of his crumbled kingdom. It was worthless. It was metal strapped to a bit of leather, holding no importance to anyone.
Anyone, that is, except Drake Munday.
Joe couldn't see Redemption's face under that unremarkable black and red mask, but he could definitely read body language. He hurt him. He finally pierced the black heart of Redemption and reminded him of what loss could truly feel like. It was truly the one advantage of being a veteran. His mind was still incredibly sharp, even if at times it seemed like his body was nearing its plateau of how far he could push it. The injuries were definitely piling on quicker than they used to.
He noticed a piece of the metal sticking out of the leather band and pulled it off, before Eric finally answered him on the phone.
"You told me you wouldn't get involved, Joe."
"I did say that."
"So what the fuck?"
It was a valid question and Joe had to take a minute to think of exactly how he wanted to put it. Did he want to tell his brother the truth?
Hey Eric, the reason I went back on your word is because I needed to hurt someone and Drake Munday was an acceptable target.
Hey Eric, the reason I broke my promise is because I've been feeling more and more angry lately. And have I mentioned that I haven't been keeping up with my medication?
No, neither one of those answers would do at all, no matter how true they were. His medication was something he needed, but life had been hectic and sometimes you forget. Then you forget again. Then you hear the chuckling waking you up in the middle of the night, praying to whatever deity that looks after worn-down wrestling veterans that it was just a dream.
"I only planned to do anything if Redemption beat Trent."
A lie. Blatantly so, but he thought he might be able to give it enough spin that his brother would buy it. Or at least enough so that he would lay off of him until he did what he had to do.
"Trent's going to need my help if that maniac has him doing whatever he wants."
Of course, this may or may not be true, but Trent Steel was not in his thoughts when he came up with this plan. Trent Steel wasn't in his thoughts when he executed the plan. The only time Trent came into the equation is when Redemption tried to hurt him some more and JC used that to his advantage. The scenario worked out, but that cold and calculating effort was a little too close to the old JC for him to handle, so he tried his best not to think about it. For all the things Trent Steel had done for him, JC's best friend wasn't on his mind as much as others might think. As they days and weeks passed since the attack, neither was Eric. GI would get better, but JC might never be able to.
"I don't know if you've heard, but Redemption went after his kids too. Someone had to put a stop it."
"But it's like I said before, Joe. I don't want to lose my brother..."
"Yes, I know. Trust me. I'm being careful. I can play this game without losing myself. I've got Redemption exactly where I want him just playing with his mind."
He didn't know if that was true or not, but it sounded right. It sounded like something his brother would want to hear. He wished his thoughts weren't so murky right now. He needed to get back on a regular medication routine. He was a father to a little girl now. He had to think of her.
There was silence on the other end of the phone, as if GI was contemplating what he was just told.
"I just don't want you to end up like you were, that's all."
"I know that. I don't either. That is the last thing that I want."
More silence. He was forming his judgment on the matter now. He saw the whole thing, he heard Joe's words and now he was deciding if the puzzle pieces fit together to make a picture he was happy with.
"You did get him good though."
Joe bit his lip to keep a sigh of relief from getting out, forcing the air out of his nose in large exhale.
"Yeah, I did. He really lost his shit out there. I just wish it was you out there kicking him in the head instead of me."
"Right now I'd like to walk again."
He was once again noncommittal on returning to the ring. The conversation happened once or twice before and he was still contemplating retirement. Joe didn't like it, but it wasn't exactly a decision he had any control over.
"You will. You're getting better ever a little bit each day. You had a major surgery. It's going to take time. Believe me."
"Yeah, I guess you would know."
"I didn't get the scar on my neck from shaving."
"When do you shave the back of your neck?"
Joe smiled a bit, as the conversation was quickly turning casual. No more words about what he did and the state of mind he was in when he did it. No more risk of uncomfortable truths being told. Just two brothers having a friendly conversation. JC was glad the conversation was just over the phone.
He didn't need Eric to see how much he was sweating with anxiety.
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August 6, 2017
"What the hell is your problem?"
A new location. A new situation. This time Joe is yelling the words to dazed Trent Steel, who likely doesn't want to hear them. That doesn't matter, as Joe plans on saying what he needs to say anyway. He feels Trent needs to hear them.
The two just fought for thirty-six minutes in an Iron Man match JC won 2-1. Of course, as far as he's concerned it's not much of a victory. They were pawns in Redemption's game and the end result almost had Joe getting his skull caved in. Or his neck. He was at Redemption's mercy and he didn't like it. If it weren't for CJ Wylde...
What the hell was he doing there, anyway?
He supposed it didn't matter. He was and Redemption abandoned his newest lackey to take the beating he was likely owed.
Trent had an ice pack on the back of his neck and a cigarette jutting out of the side of his mouth. His eyes were sunken and world-weary. He's seen better days, Joe thought grimly. He shifts his gaze up from wherever his thoughts were and peers at JC. For a fraction of a moment, JC actually feels a touch of fear. Not for himself, but that his best friend was just considering suicide. JC would never know, because he can't seem to get Trent to communicate. JC dismisses it, because Trent Steel isn't the type to give up.
"MY problem?"
"Yeah, YOUR problem. What are you doing actually listening to that fuck?"
Trent lets out a humorless chuckle and tosses his cigarette. It bounces off a wall and rolls near JC's boot. He absentmindedly steps on it, to prevent a fire that was never in danger of happening. Not a literal fire anyway. A figurative one was entirely possible.
"Because that was the agreement. I lose I do as he says. If I won he'd be gone. I lost. No thanks to you."
Was that blame in his voice? JC thought about bringing up the fact that Trent had the match one but opted to try something stupid and lost, but now wasn't the time. He wasn't going to get anywhere if he started a fight over something that happened a month ago. Instead, he stuck to the issue at hand.
"Because going by the rules is something you're famous for."
Trent cocked an eyebrow at Joe and shook his head. Joe simply stared at him, trying to figure him out. The last time he saw Trent like this, he was standing with a barbed wire bat in OWF contemplating going back to the "old" Trent Steel. JC got through to him then. JC didn't have the patience to deal with it now.
After all, that special something he kept locked up didn't want him to have patience. He felt it needling the recesses of his mind, begging to come out. He felt it more than ever, even though he was resuming his medicine. Maybe he needed a change in prescription. Maybe it only delayed the inevitable.
Either way, he was going to force Trent to see things his way and get back to hunting Redemption. His way was the only way. No matter how it made him look.
"Who are you to even tell me my business?"
"I'm the guy that just went over half an hour fighting you because you're Redemption's new lap dog."
Joe's patience was wearing thin. Trent needed to be told some harsh truths if he was going to get his head on straight. Joe didn't have the temerity needed to tell him what he really thought.
Trent, I need your head in the game. I don't know if I can beat Redemption and I need your help. Please.
Instead, he decided stubbornly prodding him was the best solution. He guessed he would find out if it worked in the next few moments.
"No. You're the guy who's mad because the only reason you won the match is because Redemption wanted you to. You wouldn't have beaten me without his help Joe...and you know it."
Of course he knew it. They both knew it. Didn't Trent realize this was exactly Redemption's plan when he made the match? To split up the Rogues and hurt them both more? JC kept silent, as hard as it was, to let Trent say his piece. He would get his time after.
"Then again you've always known it! Everyone thinks back to us as a tag team and they marvel at how strong you are, but the gloss over the fact that I am the better wrestler. Then again what do you care? Everyone gives a fuck about you since they found out the only reason you were ever like that was from a chemical imbalance. Me...I don't get that luxury."
"Trent, have you ever heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy? We've been here almost a year and you still got that Megan Harris bullshit in your head. Did you ever think maybe the reason people are turning on you is because you're not giving them a reason to stay?"
"Fuck you."
"Yeah, fuck you too. You need to get your head together and stop working with a guy who went after your kids. Did you forget that? Why am I more pissed at what he did to your kids than you are?"
Trent takes off the shades he put on, wearing them at night and backstage for reasons known only to him, and gets up. Joe sees him balling up his fist and thinks he's about to take a punch to the mouth. Instead, Trent extends his finger and puts it right in his friend's face.
"You don't get to mention my kids, Joe."
It hit a sore spot. Obviously. Good. He decided to keep poking the wound, maybe bring Trent to his senses.
"It's not like you'd do anything if I did. Apparently you'll work with a guy who tattooed them so what does it matter what I say? That's how logic works in that fucked up brain of yours."
There are times in our lives when we know we've said the wrong thing. It's in those precious moments when the last word escapes our lips and we see the rage brewing up in the person we spoke to. JC was having that moment now, as he watched a bruised and battered Trent Steel visibly shaking. He was sure that if this were a cartoon, Trent's face would turn beet red and smoke would come out of his years.
And yet JC stood his ground, because that was what happened when two stubborn people had an argument.
"YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ME YOU PRETENTIOUS FUCK!"
Joe noticed Carnage Wrestling staff in his peripheral vision turn and look, then immediately speed off at seeing who was fighting. They didn't want any part of this. Joe didn't really either.
"You think you're so fucking great! Let me clue you in on something you fucking goddamn egotistical selfish self-righteous son of a bitch! You were gonna get married. Settle down. You quit! When you quit this game when you did Joe do you know what else you quit. You quit on me!"
Trent was getting calmer now. Joe wondered how long he had been waiting to say this. But the rage was gone now, as quickly as it arrived, and what was left was just sadness. Joe thought that in this sadness Trent looked much older than he actually was. Trent looked down at his fists now, as if he were willing himself not to raise them and fight. To Joe's surprise, he didn't feel any anger of his own. He felt sorrow for his friend. Sorrow...and pity.
"Everyone is fucking gone that started with me. They either hate me, they're broken, or they're like you. Quitters. You know. Fuck, you probably won't believe me. But I fought Redemption so you wouldn't have to and I lost. And whether you like it not Joe, I don't break promises. It's the one damn thing they can't take from me, but you don't care about that. All you care about is what these fucking people think. Maybe Redemption's right about me Joe. Maybe I'm not ever going to be the good man I want to be. Maybe it's about time you do what you do best Joe."
Trent looked back up now, a solemn expression on his weathered face.
"Quit."
The rant from Trent hurt not because of what he said, but the implication that he'd been waiting a long time to say it. How long? Months? Years? Did he want to scream this at Joe when he was the best man at his wedding? If he felt this way, why did he help him last year? Joe had no idea how to reply, so he picked the worst possible option. He ignored the hurt coming from his friend's voice and focused on the only thing he seemed to be able to focus on lately.
"You're right. I should quit. Redemption's probably going to tear me apart. But I won't. If he's going to end my career, then I'm going to take his with me. If you're going to help him, then I guess there's nothing left to say. What happens next should look real familiar to you, asshole."
JC turned his back on Trent Steel and left him there to deal with his problems on his own.
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It's amazing the things we get nostalgic for.
For example, I grew up with Saturday morning cartoons. It was an innocent time when the only way you could see the shows you want is by getting up really early, sitting in front of your TV with a big bowl of cereal and watching the TV to see what the Autobots and Decepticons were going to do this week. It was a simpler time, one that I'll never have back. Occasionally, I wish life were still that simple.
Redemption is nostalgic for the more recent past, and like my Saturday mornings in New Jersey where the world still seemed innocent and full of possibilities, that time is never coming back. But do you know what makes Redemption really mad?
It's not that the OWF closed. Oh that's part of it, but that's more of an excuse than anything else. It's not that he has yet to really gain the advantage over me, because I think he expected a battle with me would be tough. It's definitely not that I 'ducked' him as he claims, because I think I've proven that I'm glad to take the fight to him.
Redemption's mad because he's quickly becoming irrelevant.
In the OWF he was the top dog, but only in the OWF. No one else knows him or cares. He wants to remind the former OWF wrestlers that he's a threat. All we want to do is move on and all he wants to do is relive past glories. Redemption was the star quarterback of the OWF, but now he's a balding, fat divorcé who visits the field every Friday night to wax nostalgic on the life he used to have. He has no current glories and I don't think he can get them. That's why he's on this crusade. He's a shell of his former self, he knows it and he's lashing out because he can't handle it.
Now he's wormed his way into Trent's head. He's a predator, preying upon Trent's mental anguish over his recent hardships. He's whispering sweet nothings of a time long since past, hoping to re-corrupt a Trent Steel who put his old ways behind him. That saddest part is that it seems like Trent's buying what Redemption has to sell.
"Pleased to meet you," Redemption says. "Hope you guess my name."
The nature of his game, however, is to make Trent something he's not, something his family knows he's not. But that doesn't matter to Redemption. It fulfills his vendetta. He's once again hurting someone who "let" the OWF die. Trent's always been a glutton for punishment, so he's letting him.
Don't think I didn't watch the footage from Chaos 40, Trent. Don't think I didn't see you hand him that sledgehammer without any bit of hesitation. You know, I've been having trouble deciding if I'm angry with you or if I feel sorry for you. You're clearly not right upstairs. As someone who's got his own issues, I can recognize the signs. But you've turned down every attempt I've made to help you. I don't know what else I can do at this point.
But I won't quit on you.
Perhaps you feel I've done that before. Maybe you think that when I left the business all those years ago it was because of you. It's not. I left because NLW folded and I needed to save myself. Even then I recognized something was off. I knew the things I heard, the things I felt, were not normal. I mean, fuck, man, did you even see how quickly I went off the rails the moment I was back in wrestling? It doesn't matter, as I guess even these words will fall on deaf ears. I've been where you are and I'm clear-headed enough to know that Redemption is playing you. After I've removed him from the equation, I'll be able to get you the help you need.
I'll have my own help in this match, whether or I want it or not, from CJ Wylde. He ran out and attacked Redemption twice, making it appear to the untrained eye that he was helping me. He wasn't. CJ's only out to help CJ, and Redemption had a receipt coming from OWF. That's fine. As long as he stays out of my way I can work with that. He's not the Wylde I would have chosen to team with, but he is a former world champion and still more than enough of a talented competitor to hold off Trent while I take care of Redemption.
Because let me perfectly clear on this CJ. Redemption is mine. You had your chance when he and Angel worked you over and you ran to UGWC. He attacked my brother, he's in the head of my best friend...you don't get to take him out. You don't get to end him. You lost that chance. As long as you realize you're a supporting player in my quest for vengeance we'll get along great.
It all comes back to you, Redemption, which is exactly what you want. We're all pawns in your game. Congratulations. I'm content enough to play along for now, because I know what's coming. I know I've got my one-on-one match with you in October. So I have two chances to stain my hands with your blood and you bet your dime-store mask I'm going to make good.
GI will be walking long before you recover from what I'm going to do to you.
You'll have all the time to pine for the "good ol' days" that you want, because this is going to end. It's going to end it one way or another in October, assuming I don't get trigger-happy and finish you off at Chaos 41. But I think I want to extend your punishment.
I want to make you suffer because you made my brother suffer.
I want to make you suffer because you're making Trent suffer.
When it comes right down to it, I just want you to suffer. For me as much as them.
Violence is a drug, Redemption. You know that more than anyone. When I was a worse person than I am now, it was a drug I dealt to others frequently. I also liked to get high on my own supply. So when I look back on this years from now and look back on who you were, I won't see the world-beating champion you used to be. I'll see for how you are now.
One last hit before I quit the stuff for good.
"What the hell is your problem?"
A new location. A new situation. This time Joe is yelling the words to dazed Trent Steel, who likely doesn't want to hear them. That doesn't matter, as Joe plans on saying what he needs to say anyway. He feels Trent needs to hear them.
The two just fought for thirty-six minutes in an Iron Man match JC won 2-1. Of course, as far as he's concerned it's not much of a victory. They were pawns in Redemption's game and the end result almost had Joe getting his skull caved in. Or his neck. He was at Redemption's mercy and he didn't like it. If it weren't for CJ Wylde...
What the hell was he doing there, anyway?
He supposed it didn't matter. He was and Redemption abandoned his newest lackey to take the beating he was likely owed.
Trent had an ice pack on the back of his neck and a cigarette jutting out of the side of his mouth. His eyes were sunken and world-weary. He's seen better days, Joe thought grimly. He shifts his gaze up from wherever his thoughts were and peers at JC. For a fraction of a moment, JC actually feels a touch of fear. Not for himself, but that his best friend was just considering suicide. JC would never know, because he can't seem to get Trent to communicate. JC dismisses it, because Trent Steel isn't the type to give up.
"MY problem?"
"Yeah, YOUR problem. What are you doing actually listening to that fuck?"
Trent lets out a humorless chuckle and tosses his cigarette. It bounces off a wall and rolls near JC's boot. He absentmindedly steps on it, to prevent a fire that was never in danger of happening. Not a literal fire anyway. A figurative one was entirely possible.
"Because that was the agreement. I lose I do as he says. If I won he'd be gone. I lost. No thanks to you."
Was that blame in his voice? JC thought about bringing up the fact that Trent had the match one but opted to try something stupid and lost, but now wasn't the time. He wasn't going to get anywhere if he started a fight over something that happened a month ago. Instead, he stuck to the issue at hand.
"Because going by the rules is something you're famous for."
Trent cocked an eyebrow at Joe and shook his head. Joe simply stared at him, trying to figure him out. The last time he saw Trent like this, he was standing with a barbed wire bat in OWF contemplating going back to the "old" Trent Steel. JC got through to him then. JC didn't have the patience to deal with it now.
After all, that special something he kept locked up didn't want him to have patience. He felt it needling the recesses of his mind, begging to come out. He felt it more than ever, even though he was resuming his medicine. Maybe he needed a change in prescription. Maybe it only delayed the inevitable.
Either way, he was going to force Trent to see things his way and get back to hunting Redemption. His way was the only way. No matter how it made him look.
"Who are you to even tell me my business?"
"I'm the guy that just went over half an hour fighting you because you're Redemption's new lap dog."
Joe's patience was wearing thin. Trent needed to be told some harsh truths if he was going to get his head on straight. Joe didn't have the temerity needed to tell him what he really thought.
Trent, I need your head in the game. I don't know if I can beat Redemption and I need your help. Please.
Instead, he decided stubbornly prodding him was the best solution. He guessed he would find out if it worked in the next few moments.
"No. You're the guy who's mad because the only reason you won the match is because Redemption wanted you to. You wouldn't have beaten me without his help Joe...and you know it."
Of course he knew it. They both knew it. Didn't Trent realize this was exactly Redemption's plan when he made the match? To split up the Rogues and hurt them both more? JC kept silent, as hard as it was, to let Trent say his piece. He would get his time after.
"Then again you've always known it! Everyone thinks back to us as a tag team and they marvel at how strong you are, but the gloss over the fact that I am the better wrestler. Then again what do you care? Everyone gives a fuck about you since they found out the only reason you were ever like that was from a chemical imbalance. Me...I don't get that luxury."
"Trent, have you ever heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy? We've been here almost a year and you still got that Megan Harris bullshit in your head. Did you ever think maybe the reason people are turning on you is because you're not giving them a reason to stay?"
"Fuck you."
"Yeah, fuck you too. You need to get your head together and stop working with a guy who went after your kids. Did you forget that? Why am I more pissed at what he did to your kids than you are?"
Trent takes off the shades he put on, wearing them at night and backstage for reasons known only to him, and gets up. Joe sees him balling up his fist and thinks he's about to take a punch to the mouth. Instead, Trent extends his finger and puts it right in his friend's face.
"You don't get to mention my kids, Joe."
It hit a sore spot. Obviously. Good. He decided to keep poking the wound, maybe bring Trent to his senses.
"It's not like you'd do anything if I did. Apparently you'll work with a guy who tattooed them so what does it matter what I say? That's how logic works in that fucked up brain of yours."
There are times in our lives when we know we've said the wrong thing. It's in those precious moments when the last word escapes our lips and we see the rage brewing up in the person we spoke to. JC was having that moment now, as he watched a bruised and battered Trent Steel visibly shaking. He was sure that if this were a cartoon, Trent's face would turn beet red and smoke would come out of his years.
And yet JC stood his ground, because that was what happened when two stubborn people had an argument.
"YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ME YOU PRETENTIOUS FUCK!"
Joe noticed Carnage Wrestling staff in his peripheral vision turn and look, then immediately speed off at seeing who was fighting. They didn't want any part of this. Joe didn't really either.
"You think you're so fucking great! Let me clue you in on something you fucking goddamn egotistical selfish self-righteous son of a bitch! You were gonna get married. Settle down. You quit! When you quit this game when you did Joe do you know what else you quit. You quit on me!"
Trent was getting calmer now. Joe wondered how long he had been waiting to say this. But the rage was gone now, as quickly as it arrived, and what was left was just sadness. Joe thought that in this sadness Trent looked much older than he actually was. Trent looked down at his fists now, as if he were willing himself not to raise them and fight. To Joe's surprise, he didn't feel any anger of his own. He felt sorrow for his friend. Sorrow...and pity.
"Everyone is fucking gone that started with me. They either hate me, they're broken, or they're like you. Quitters. You know. Fuck, you probably won't believe me. But I fought Redemption so you wouldn't have to and I lost. And whether you like it not Joe, I don't break promises. It's the one damn thing they can't take from me, but you don't care about that. All you care about is what these fucking people think. Maybe Redemption's right about me Joe. Maybe I'm not ever going to be the good man I want to be. Maybe it's about time you do what you do best Joe."
Trent looked back up now, a solemn expression on his weathered face.
"Quit."
The rant from Trent hurt not because of what he said, but the implication that he'd been waiting a long time to say it. How long? Months? Years? Did he want to scream this at Joe when he was the best man at his wedding? If he felt this way, why did he help him last year? Joe had no idea how to reply, so he picked the worst possible option. He ignored the hurt coming from his friend's voice and focused on the only thing he seemed to be able to focus on lately.
"You're right. I should quit. Redemption's probably going to tear me apart. But I won't. If he's going to end my career, then I'm going to take his with me. If you're going to help him, then I guess there's nothing left to say. What happens next should look real familiar to you, asshole."
JC turned his back on Trent Steel and left him there to deal with his problems on his own.
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It's amazing the things we get nostalgic for.
For example, I grew up with Saturday morning cartoons. It was an innocent time when the only way you could see the shows you want is by getting up really early, sitting in front of your TV with a big bowl of cereal and watching the TV to see what the Autobots and Decepticons were going to do this week. It was a simpler time, one that I'll never have back. Occasionally, I wish life were still that simple.
Redemption is nostalgic for the more recent past, and like my Saturday mornings in New Jersey where the world still seemed innocent and full of possibilities, that time is never coming back. But do you know what makes Redemption really mad?
It's not that the OWF closed. Oh that's part of it, but that's more of an excuse than anything else. It's not that he has yet to really gain the advantage over me, because I think he expected a battle with me would be tough. It's definitely not that I 'ducked' him as he claims, because I think I've proven that I'm glad to take the fight to him.
Redemption's mad because he's quickly becoming irrelevant.
In the OWF he was the top dog, but only in the OWF. No one else knows him or cares. He wants to remind the former OWF wrestlers that he's a threat. All we want to do is move on and all he wants to do is relive past glories. Redemption was the star quarterback of the OWF, but now he's a balding, fat divorcé who visits the field every Friday night to wax nostalgic on the life he used to have. He has no current glories and I don't think he can get them. That's why he's on this crusade. He's a shell of his former self, he knows it and he's lashing out because he can't handle it.
Now he's wormed his way into Trent's head. He's a predator, preying upon Trent's mental anguish over his recent hardships. He's whispering sweet nothings of a time long since past, hoping to re-corrupt a Trent Steel who put his old ways behind him. That saddest part is that it seems like Trent's buying what Redemption has to sell.
"Pleased to meet you," Redemption says. "Hope you guess my name."
The nature of his game, however, is to make Trent something he's not, something his family knows he's not. But that doesn't matter to Redemption. It fulfills his vendetta. He's once again hurting someone who "let" the OWF die. Trent's always been a glutton for punishment, so he's letting him.
Don't think I didn't watch the footage from Chaos 40, Trent. Don't think I didn't see you hand him that sledgehammer without any bit of hesitation. You know, I've been having trouble deciding if I'm angry with you or if I feel sorry for you. You're clearly not right upstairs. As someone who's got his own issues, I can recognize the signs. But you've turned down every attempt I've made to help you. I don't know what else I can do at this point.
But I won't quit on you.
Perhaps you feel I've done that before. Maybe you think that when I left the business all those years ago it was because of you. It's not. I left because NLW folded and I needed to save myself. Even then I recognized something was off. I knew the things I heard, the things I felt, were not normal. I mean, fuck, man, did you even see how quickly I went off the rails the moment I was back in wrestling? It doesn't matter, as I guess even these words will fall on deaf ears. I've been where you are and I'm clear-headed enough to know that Redemption is playing you. After I've removed him from the equation, I'll be able to get you the help you need.
I'll have my own help in this match, whether or I want it or not, from CJ Wylde. He ran out and attacked Redemption twice, making it appear to the untrained eye that he was helping me. He wasn't. CJ's only out to help CJ, and Redemption had a receipt coming from OWF. That's fine. As long as he stays out of my way I can work with that. He's not the Wylde I would have chosen to team with, but he is a former world champion and still more than enough of a talented competitor to hold off Trent while I take care of Redemption.
Because let me perfectly clear on this CJ. Redemption is mine. You had your chance when he and Angel worked you over and you ran to UGWC. He attacked my brother, he's in the head of my best friend...you don't get to take him out. You don't get to end him. You lost that chance. As long as you realize you're a supporting player in my quest for vengeance we'll get along great.
It all comes back to you, Redemption, which is exactly what you want. We're all pawns in your game. Congratulations. I'm content enough to play along for now, because I know what's coming. I know I've got my one-on-one match with you in October. So I have two chances to stain my hands with your blood and you bet your dime-store mask I'm going to make good.
GI will be walking long before you recover from what I'm going to do to you.
You'll have all the time to pine for the "good ol' days" that you want, because this is going to end. It's going to end it one way or another in October, assuming I don't get trigger-happy and finish you off at Chaos 41. But I think I want to extend your punishment.
I want to make you suffer because you made my brother suffer.
I want to make you suffer because you're making Trent suffer.
When it comes right down to it, I just want you to suffer. For me as much as them.
Violence is a drug, Redemption. You know that more than anyone. When I was a worse person than I am now, it was a drug I dealt to others frequently. I also liked to get high on my own supply. So when I look back on this years from now and look back on who you were, I won't see the world-beating champion you used to be. I'll see for how you are now.
One last hit before I quit the stuff for good.
