Oh sweet ignition be my fuse
You have no choice you have to choose
Bid farewell to yesterday
Say goodbye I'm on my way
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November 14, 1981
The very first time the future JC encountered wrestling, it was a huge disappointment.
It was a chilly November night but a five-year-old named Joe didn't care. He was here with his dad and they were going to see something his dad loved: 'rasslin'. Joe wasn't quite sure what 'rasslin' was, as his mom didn't approve of it. He wondered if it was anything like boxing, which he was sure involved putting people in boxes.
"Okay son, now what do we do when we see the Crusher?"
"Tell him that he stinks!"
"Close enough, sport. Let's go."
Davis Lee, the man who gave Joe life as well as his middle name, was excited to show his son something that he enjoyed. It was true, Samantha Lee did not enjoy wrestling and didn't want her son watching it, but Davis finally managed to convince her to give in. It wasn't any more violent than his cartoons, after all. At least, that was the argument the man of the house used to convince her to take Joe to this fight card at the Brendan Byrne Arena.
The two were currently waiting in line in the cold New Jersey air bundled up for the occasion. Joe was riding on his dad's back with his arms around his neck. If he were asked to tell the truth, he didn't really care about the rasslin' show that his dad was taking him to. After all, he hadn't seen it. He didn't know what a body slam was. He thought a haymaker was used to help farmers feed their horses.
No, none of that. He just wanted to be here with his dad and he was completely unashamed of that fact. Joe's father was the greatest person the five-year-old knew. He went out all day to work, but when he came back the two watched TV together, played outside, you name it. He was the best possible friend a kid could have. If he hurt himself, his dad was there to clean and treat the wound.
That's not to say he didn't love his mother. His mother did all the other things like feed him, bathe him, tuck him in and give him as many hugs as he wanted. But there was a special bond he had with his dad, one that couldn't be replicated with anyone else.
Simply put, his dad was his provider, his best friend and his hero. So if his dad wanted to go see this show, then Joe would ride his shoulders all the way into the arena, just to spend more time with him.
The two finally got up to the ticket stand, where they were expecting to hand in Davis' pre-purchased ticket to get them inside. The sounds of Lou Gramm singing about his fever being 103 played from a small portable radio the worker was keeping handy, possibly to stave off boredom. The father and son pair stood in front of the window.
"I have this ticket here for the All Jersey Pro Wrestling tonight."
"Let me see it, I have to verify its authenticity."
"I bought it here two weeks ago, I'm sure it's..."
"Just hand it over."
Joe heard his father grunt as he reached into his wallet and moved past a couple of twenties to grasp the orange and white ticket. Joe watched all of this with fascination from atop his perch, interested in seeing how adults handled adult business. The man at the ticket booth inspected it, then gave his own dissatisfied grunt.
"It's a fake."
"That doesn't make sense. I bought it from this arena."
A smirk crawled onto the lips of the ticket vendor, who seemed to finally have some amusement in his long day. Joe looked away from that, as it gave him the creeps. When he looked behind him, he saw a growing line of anxious people looking to go inside.
"Did you buy it from this booth?"
"I was at this arena..."
"But was it at. this. booth?"
"A guy stopped me and said he worked for you guys, said I could avoid the line."
"Yep, you got swindled, pal. Cops arrested a scalper here. He did work for us, but not anymore."
The vendor had a sing-song tone in his voice as he uttered the last three syllables. If Joe were older, he would have rightly assumed the man was mocking his father. He wasn't, so he just wondered what a scalper was.
"Daddy, what's going on?"
"Nothing, Joe. Just sit there and let us talk."
"Ain't nothin' to talk about, sir. I can't let you in with that ticket."
"Well then I guess I'll have to buy another one."
The vendor snorted, perhaps trying to hold back a laugh. Joe looked behind them again and saw visible irritation on the faces of people behind them. They wanted inside and it was cold.
"Didn't you read the sign, man? Event's sold out. Guess you'll have to come back next time."
"Please, my kid is here, surely there's..."
"Nothing I can do. Let this be a lesson to you kid, sometimes bad people like to take your things and give you crap in return. NEXT."
Davis stood there for a moment, bewildered at the man's hostile tone and the entire situation. There was a grumbling behind him as another couple, who looked like they'd be right at home following Foreigner on tour, shoved their way to the front to hand in their own tickets. Joe's father took a step back and looked at the fake ticket, before angrily tearing it to shreds and tossing it to the ground. Joe, who was still sitting on his father's shoulders, didn't understand any of this. One moment, they were happily going to a show. Now his dad was angry and their ticket was in pieces. So Joe did the only thing he could.
He began to cry.
His father seemed frozen for a moment, as this new thing was added to a litany of other offenses he was trying to process. However, he reached behind him and pulled the five-year-old around, standing up him on the ground and moving to his knees to talk to him.
"What's the matter, Joe?"
"The man said that we can't go in."
Davis was silent for a moment, thoughtful, then he adjusted Joe's jacket so that the hood remained over his ears.
"No, it looks like we can't."
"But why? You wanted to take me to the show."
"Because some people only care about themselves, Joe. But it's okay. We can do something else."
"But you wanted to do this."
"Joe, it doesn't matter what I want. This was for you. So we could spend some time together. There's all kinds of things to do. How about..."
He stood there, hunched over, attempting to think about where they could possibly go at this time of night. Then an idea hit him and his eyes lit up.
"How about we go test out that new Galaga machine at the arcade near the house?"
Joe, whose video game experience was limited to watching older kids talk about the Atari, seemed to perk up immediately.
"Yeah!"
At this expression of approval, Davis scooped up his son and placed him back on his perch. They quickly moved around the mass of people trying to crowd into the venue to watch wrestling, as they had much bigger plans in mind.
When the event aired on public access TV later in the week, it was revealed that the dreaded Crusher won the championship with his dreaded (and illegal in 32 states) claw hold. The father and son watched it together from the comfort of their home, as Joe's mother sat in a chair with a slightly disapproving smile.
Neither one of them were very upset.
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The snow fell.
Even now, as the last thing two kids wanted was more snow, it fell. A fourteen-year-old Joe and his brother Eric sat on a bench outside of the East Rutherford Police Department, bundled up in their winter clothing. Eric had been crying. It made sense. The kid was only ten and he just lost both of his parents.
Both of their parents.
Between the two of them, one might have believed that Joe was involved in their fatal car wreck and just barely escaped. His arm was in a sling from the events of the night before. He hadn't had any fights in his life prior to then and he threw his shoulder into a larger boy's kneecap. As it turns out, a lanky kid throwing himself at something as hard as bone would be enough to dislocate his shoulder. His arm hurt but at the moment, it was the least of his concerns.
He glanced over at his brother, who was simply wiping at a runny nose with his gloved hand. His eyes were red and bloodshot, both a mixture of the stinging winter air and the fact he had been crying heavily for hours.
Joe had his good arm around him. They were waiting for their aunt to pick them up, as they would be staying with her for the time being. Neither had spoken much after arriving at the police station, as it was mostly a mixture of silent crying and listening to what police told them.
During the night before, Joe got into a fight. It wasn't just a typical fight that kids normally get into. He was harassed by two older, larger high schoolers and a certain voice in the back of his head told him to attack. It was the first time he heard it and for the time being, he listened. Now, with everything happening around him, it was mostly quiet.
Mostly.
This is all your fault, it said, over and over. Your fault.
"It's not."
Joe murmured the words, but it wasn't quiet enough for Eric to avoid hearing them.
"What's not what, Joey?"
He wasn't sure if his little brother would understand what was going on in his mind so he decided not to tell him. If JC was being honest, he didn't really understand it himself. All he wanted to do yesterday was rent some movies in a video store. He didn't want to get into a fight. He didn't want to dislocate his shoulder and he certainly didn't want to lose his parents. So why was this disembodied voice in his head telling him he was to blame? He didn't do anything.
Think about it.
He had been. He had been thinking about it constantly in the last eight hours or so. He hadn't slept. He thought about being forced to remain at the video store after the fight, interrogated by police. He thought about the ride to the hospital after, knowing his parents would give him a harsh punishment for what he did. He thought about telling his dad about the voice he heard.
It was in the middle of that car ride that he overheard the call to the officers in the front of the cop car he rode in. They didn't seem to make much of an effort to hide it from him. A car matching his parents' had been reported as driving off a road with "two casualties."
That was his parents: reduced to a police statistic.
He came out of his thoughts and looked down at his brother, who was still wondering what he was mumbling. He tried his best to put an answer together.
"Nothing, Eric. I was just thinking."
"About what?"
The truth was he was angry. He was angry at himself for listening to whatever this new voice was and he was angry at the police for not just letting him walk home. Even with a dislocated shoulder in inclement weather, he'd rather walk home than deal with what he was currently dealing with.
"Do you....do you think this is my fault?"
It is.
Eric, who was only ten at the time, had no filter when it came to his thoughts. So if he thought Joe was to blame at all, he would say so. Perhaps it was paranoia, perhaps it was this voice he heard. But he was fighting off some dark thoughts and he didn't want to be haunted by that on top of everything else.
"Why would it be your fault? You aren't the snow."
It was blunt but most of what Eric said was blunt. However his reasoning didn't quite add up in this case. The only reason their parents were even on the road was because of him. It was his fight. His injury. His ordeal with police. They were coming to see him because of what he did. If they hadn't been on the road, they wouldn't have hit the patch of ice. If they didn't hit the patch of ice...
They wouldn't be dead.
"I guess you're right. I just...they were coming to see me, you know?"
"Yeah, well, you were hurt. Parents are supposed to help their kids when they're hurt."
The last few words came out as choked as fresh tears were forming in his little brother's eyes. Now he felt even more guilt, because Eric was the only person he had left now. They had an aunt coming, but they never saw her. He loved his little brother and he knew that he had to protect him now that he was the only one left capable of doing that.
"I'm sorry, bro. I didn't mean to make you cry."
Eric sniffed and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of a coat.
"I'm not crying. Shut up."
"It's okay to cry. I miss them too."
"Why did this happen, Joey?"
Being only fourteen himself, Joe had no clear answers for that question. Perhaps he never would. But his guilt and some thoughts in the back of his mind had a few theories.
"I don't know."
He wanted to say something soothing or poetic for his brother, but he couldn't come up with anything. He felt tears behind his own eyes, ready to fall. Their parents were dead. Nothing he could say was going to change that fact or help the pain. Instead he hugged his brother a little tighter and they sat in silence on the steps of the police station.
The snow fell.
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I threw it all away because
I had to be what never was
Been so hungry I could lie
You took my word I took your wine
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October 2, 2017
JC had been in and out of consciousness, his thoughts fading between the past and the present. The present he didn't like to think about as much, because the present hurt. The present saw his best friend try to cripple him because of some twisted code of honor that forced him to work for the man they both hated. The present also physically hurt, as his back was a symphony of pain from the muscles to his spine itself.
His eyes were closed, not because he was trying to sleep, but because his face was also bruised up. He had taken a beating, possibly one of the worst in his career. What should have been his moment of triumph was swiftly taken from him, making Carnage's October PPV event one of the worst nights of his career, possibly his life.
He had been thinking about both ever since his fight with Stacy, as being laid up in a hospital bed allowed him nothing but time to dwell on his past mistakes.
But it wasn't Stacy's voice he heard snapping at the nurses.
"Jesus, he looks miserable. Why aren't you doing anything for him?"
"M'aam, we're keeping him as comfortable as possible. Please lower your voice."
"Don't you fucking tell me..."
"Hi Luce."
His eyes were open again looking at Lucy Wylde, whose face bore an expression of anger, concern and something else he couldn't discern at the moment. Perhaps it was more trouble with CJ, but Joe didn't exactly care at the moment.
"Joe! Shit, I'm so sorry I couldn't get in there. The fucking security..."
"It's..."
He coughed for a moment. His lungs felt as though they were on fire. He had several minor burns and bruises on his back and chest, making it painful to breathe.
"It's fine."
"The fuck it is. Look at you."
Joe hadn't exactly taken a tally of his injuries, except to wiggle his toes to make sure Trent hadn't crippled him. He hadn't. Thank goodness for small favors. Although if he were paralyzed, he might not be able to feel the pain from simply laying on his spine.
"You act like this is the first time I've ever had my ass kicked."
He willed his muscles to form a smirk, but found that even that hurt, so it turned into a wince instead. This wasn't exactly helping his case, whatever that was.
"I should have been in there."
"You know, I have the strangest feeling of deja vu."
"What do you mean?"
"Remember when Sarah Lacklan threw you off the stage? I was halfway across the country and still felt guilty about it."
She was wringing her hands in her lap as she sat down, perhaps hoping JC wouldn't notice, but he did. It was uncharacteristic of her but it seemed she had no idea what to do with herself. It left JC wondering just how bad he looked.
"That's not the same thing, Joe. You were on the other side of the map. I was THERE. I was at ringside."
Another cough forced its way up from JC's throat without his permission. He wondered if he inhaled some of the smoke from the fire during the match but couldn't remember. It was all a blur. He wanted to assume that the forgetfulness was due to the painkillers he was on, but since he was still in pain the concern of a concussion tried to present itself. It was easily dismissed, as the normal symptoms had yet to show up. It seemed everything ached except his head.
As much as he appreciated the concern on the face of his friend, he didn't really feel up to assuaging her guilt at the moment.
"Luce, listen. I want you to seriously think about this for a moment."
She moved forward in her chair, listening intently. She was upset and he was in pain, but at least they knew when to shut up and listen to each other.
"Let's say you got past security. There's still three people in the ring beating me up. I was already down and out. I don't want you to take this as an insult, but what could you have done against Redemption and Trent Steel on the same team?"
She thought about this for a moment, not letting her emotions get the better of her. That was slightly surprising. For all of Lucy's positives, she wasn't very good at hiding how she felt about any given situation. It's why, in spite of her attempts to focus on Joe's condition, he was able to pick up on that 'something else' she didn't want to bring up.
"Whatever in the hell I could.. That's what. If anything, beating me up would have given you a break... given you the chance to roll out of the ring... something. I don't know."
"Lucy, don't take this the wrong way but, you would be in a hospital bed right next to me."
He hated to say something like that, but she needed to see the reality of the situation.
"I appreciate the gesture, but don't beat yourself up over it. It was my fight and my own fault for thinking Redemption wouldn't have a back-up plan."
"But Joe...it doesn't have to be your fight."
There was a long stretch of time where neither of them said anything. Joe let his mind wander, trying to ignore the pain in his body and the profound sadness in his heart. After all, a person he would take a bullet for turned on him not 24 hours ago. He basically lost his best friend. After all, Trent was not here. Trent was the one who put him in this hospital bed. Lucy, however, someone he once considered an enemy, was sitting here concerned and guilty over his health. Maybe it was time to re-think who his friends really were in the business.
"Stacy said something similar when she was in here earlier."
Lucy's head perked up. It seemed that she too had surrendered to her own thoughts.
"What do you mean?"
"About this not being my fight. She practically begged me not to go out there. I didn't listen."
He lifted up his arm, which had bandages covering the minor cuts and burns.
"Obviously."
"Well, Joe...she's your wife. That's kind of her job."
"She brought up retirement and I kind of flew off the handle at her."
"Joe!"
He heard a mix of disappointment and slight anger in Lucy's voice, not unlike what he heard from Stacy the night before. It was no wonder why the two took to each other so quickly. They had a lot in common. Joe pushed that thought out of his head, as he didn't need to psychoanalyze his choice in friends along with everything else right now.
"Yeah, I know. But she wasn't even the first person this year and I'm not ready to give it up yet. No matter how shitty I feel right now."
"You did win the match last night."
"I sure don't look it. Plus, I lost my..."
He started to say 'best friend', but once again wondered if the person here with him now deserved that title more. Either way, he wasn't about to offend the person who did care in favor of the person who didn't.
"....now former friend, I guess. The whole thing is just awful."
He closed his eyes, not sleeping but merely trying to fight back another rough cough. It came out to prove his efforts unsuccessful. It was sharp and raspy and he grimaced as the pain flared up in his throat. He felt a smaller, shaky hand grip his own as he did so. He opened his eyes and saw Lucy there, consoling him. He was honestly a little surprised, but didn't push the hand away.
At least someone was in his corner.
He thought of Trent willingly trying to cripple him and once again felt sadness deep inside, underneath the various wounds and bruises from his latest battle. Joe closed his eyes again and decided to let the painkillers put him to sleep, where he could dream of happier times.
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JC had been preparing for this match since the day he returned to the ring a few months ago. It was really a moment he'd been preparing for before that. He knew this would happen the second he broke a TV screen with his fist after watching Redemption injure his brother's knee. He didn't know what he could realistically expect from the match, but he knew what he wanted. He wanted Redemption's mask. He wanted his career. They were the most important thing to him. He wanted to light it on fire in front of his eyes.
If that was the goal, then the means was to beat down Redemption to the point that he couldn't fight off Joe's attempts to strip it from him. He knew the undertones to that thought process and didn't care. If it made him sound deranged, then fuck it, he'd be deranged. He'd be a liar. He'd be callous. He'd be everything everyone ever accused him of being if it meant he could get revenge on Redemption.
Not just for GI. Not just for Trent, but for himself. Because he needed this. There was a dark part inside of him, a part that gave him hallucinations and an altered line-up of medication. It wanted him to hurt someone and for the first time in a year he was going to give it what it wanted. It was okay to hurt Redemption. He didn't like to think like that, but it was true. Redemption was loathsome. Nobody would shed a tear over Redemption.
Joe looked down at his hands and began to apply his wrist tape when he heard a sharp rapping at the door. He was in complete "game mode" now, and had no need for visitors. This was all about psyching himself up for the war he was about to endure. No help was necessary.
Stacy entered the locker room after getting no response, with baby Lizzy sleeping in the crook of her arm.
"Hey Joe, can we talk for a minute?"
He pulled the tape up to his mouth and bit down hard before ripping it clean from its wrapping. He finished applying it on that wrist and began to work on the other.
"Of course, babe. I thought you were sitting in the crowd?"
"I was, but Lizzy got fussy. So I left to feed her then decided to come see you."
"Well, here I am. Just getting ready."
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about."
He stopped in mid-roll of his tape and shot an accusatory glare at Stacy. What possible thought could she have about this match that could help him so soon before he enters. He loved his wife, naturally, but this was not the time.
"What is it, Stace?"
She set the baby down in the stroller she had with her and moved her away from the door. She then walked forward and looked her husband in the eyes before continuing.
"Do you think...now is the right time for this match?"
There was no doubt she saw the incredulous look that began to form on his face. It was unmistakable and reflex. After all, she knew how important this match was to him. Stacy had the worst timing of anyone he ever met, as far as he was concerned.
"It's not like I can just go to Bridges and get it cancelled. It's literally five minutes away."
"Sure you could, you could walk out right now. We've had this discussion before Joe, but you weren't as level-headed as you are now."
"I seem to remember being insulted then too."
He cracked his neck from side to side, trying to get it limber before his fight. He wasn't in the mood for this discussion, but he wasn't going to blow Stacy off either. He saw where she was coming from, which is more than can be said for when they had this back in 2016 or before his last match with Redemption in October.
"Besides, I thought you supported me now? I was really hoping we didn't have to do this again. Especially not after that fight we had last month."
"I...do support you."
She walked up and placed a calm hand on his chest. He let it linger there, not bothering to stretch out for the time being. She stood up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips, and he let that linger too. He heard the baby cooing in the background. She clearly just woke up from her brief nap.
"Listen Joe, I don't want to fight. I just...I know what happened the last time you fought Redemption. And if he went that far just to win a match, how far will he go to end your career?"
"I'm aware of what he's capable of."
"I know that too. But why don't...why don't you just give him what he wants?"
It felt like a slap in the face, particularly after the show of affection.
"Give...are you out of your mind?"
"Joe, I'm just a concerned wife and mother. I don't want to watch my husband go to the ring tonight and get seriously hurt by some nutjob. Did you ever stop to think that even if you win, Redemption might try to take you down with him? That's what happened the last time."
He had thought of that. He knew Trent would be there and he guessed Cerberus could be hiding somewhere. They could pick up where they left off and this time succeed in their goal. Redemption would just love it if he could end JC's career no matter what the cost. As the masked lunatic said himself, their careers are linked. Going out at the same time would poetic in a sick and twisted sort of way.
And the truth was JC had no contingency plan. Lucy was not here. GI wasn't here and still wasn't in the condition to fight if he were. Trent was on Drake's side. It wasn't as if he could call up his old friend Kanich and get him to fly to Baltimore. There was absolutely no chance of anyone helping JC if the worst happened.
The part that he refused to tell Stacy or anyone else was that he didn't care. If Redemption took him out as payback, he'd go down fighting. But the goal was still the same. End Redemption's career. Stop him from doing to anyone else what he did to GI and Trent. Get revenge for all the things he did to Joe. If there was one flaw anyone with a cursory knowledge of Joe could point out, it was that he was very short-sighted.
He wanted this match so bad he thought he might placate his wife with a little white lie. After all, if Redemption injured him, having Stacy mad at him would be the least of his worries.
"I've got a plan for that. I'm at least on speaking terms with Will Prydor and Amy Jo. I'm sure neither one are going to sit in the back and watch another attack like that on me again. I've got friends here. They know what's at stake."
"Joe..."
"Stacy, I can't be any more firm about this than I am right now. This is going to happen. We've had fights about this business enough and this is the one thing I love to do. I'm good at it. I'm probably better at this than I am anything else."
"That's not..."
"Let me finish, please."
She closed her mouth mid-sentence and did as she was asked. He didn't request it forcefully, but instead in an almost begging manner.
"I know that I don't have long for this business. I've known that ever since the last concussion I had. My body's not as spry as it used to be and I'm not as fast on certain moves as I used to be. Why do you think I've been dropping muscle mass? I need the speed. This is my one chance to do something good for this business. Redemption is everything I've ever said was wrong with it. If I can end him tonight, then I will have contributed something. I will have done something for someone else instead of win another title for me."
He lowered his head. He stated his case. If Stacy told him right now that she didn't care and she wanted him to forfeit the last match of his career, he'd do it. He just wanted to say his piece, to express to her how important this was.
"I didn't know you felt that way about your life Joe. But it's bullshit."
He looked up and expected anger. What he saw was a warm, genuine smile, which made her look especially beautiful.
"You've been incredibly successful in this business and you've helped a lot of people. Think about the times you helped Lucy. Think about what you've done for your brother and Trent. There's probably some kid out there watching you that wants to do this after seeing your match. But more than that, look at this."
She grabbed the handle of the stroller and wheeled Lizzy over, who was busy chewing on a rattle her mother left in the seat. Lizzy was paying no attention to either one of them, but she brought a warm feeling in JC's heart. There was a certain heaviness there, as there had been every time he looked at the infant ever since she was born. Fatherhood had changed him in a way.
"You and I made her. And we're going to be parents to her as she succeeds in whatever she wants to do, loves whoever she wants to love and becomes whoever she wants to be."
He smiled down at her, then back up at Stacy. They both shared a small kiss, swept over with emotion.
"I came here to talk you out of going to the ring and I'm sorry. I knew better. There was no chance I could talk you out of it. But you listen to me, Joseph Davis Lee. You go out there and you win this. You beat that asshole so bad he won't be able to talk, let alone get his posse to get revenge. You do what you set out to do, then you come right back to me when it's done."
Her smile became a smirk now, one that he didn't expect to see tonight.
"I didn't marry a loser."
Suddenly the two of them heard the opening chords of JC's theme song blaring through the arena. It was time. He gave her another kiss and then grabbed his ring gloves, before slipping them over his fingers.
"As you wish."
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And held you in my bloody hands
These rattled bones and rubber bands
Washed them in the muddy water
Looking for a dime and found a quarter
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When I was five years old, my father took me to a wrestling show. We were denied access, so he took me to an arcade instead. It had all the hottest machines of the time. Galaga. Space Invaders. Pac-Man. You name it. We spent that entire time trying to beat the high score on Galaga but with our combined efforts it was still out of our reach. When my father died, I went back to that arcade and spent every last quarter I had to achieve the goal we failed to do ten years prior. This time I had my brother by my side and even though Galaga was older and in the back of the room, we did it.
That arcade is gone now. The entire building is a parking lot not far from where I live. It's just a way for the city to make money off of people that don't want to walk a few extra feet to wherever they have to go. All the memories of all the people who grew up with that building are gone. The actual Galaga cabinet that I achieved history on is either in someone's private collection or, more likely, a junk yard. The data with my achievement has been lost to time.
Everything gets old. Everything dies. Everything goes away. It starts as nothing and becomes something of value, then it goes back to its status quo. Eventually everything is returned to the weeds with the memories it created likewise gone forever.
I've been told more than once since I returned to wrestling that I should stay gone. I'm too old. I'm too crazy. I'm too full of myself. I'm irrelevant. There are quite a few people that would enjoy if JC wasn't in this business anymore. Some of those are enemies I've made on my own, some are arrogant pricks that can't stand it that someone won't put up their bullshit.
It kind of makes sense that a person with the actual power to eliminate me is a little bit of both.
Redemption. It seems no matter what we're going to be tied together. We started our OWF careers together, you were my second match when I returned to OWF and now, one of us will end our career at the hands of the other.
Do you know why I know I'm going to be the one to walk away with my career intact?
Because you've never actually taken out anyone. In spite of all the terrible things you've done...you can't actually get the job done. Jesse Williams and Angel left of their own accord. Greg Jackson was gone long before you could ever do the honors. Maybe I'd give you credit for Specter if he wasn't a flake anyway. I may not look back fondly on my time as a monster but at least when I took people out they weren't back the next week challenging me to a rematch.
Your entire career has been nothing but a series of half-measures, Redemption. For all your bluster and all the evil you exhibit to the outside world, you're still just Drake Munday. You'll always be Drake Munday. You'll retire as Drake Munday. That mask and the persona you use it for will end up shortening a career that probably could have actually changed this business.
How sad is it that I'm going to cut you down in your prime when I've probably got a good five years, at best, until I have to hang it up for good?
Pretty fucking sad, if you ask me.
Redemption, the great and terrible, booted in the head and kicked out of wrestling. A sport that never wanted him to begin with. A sport that will be glad that he's gone. You've had to scratch and claw for everything you've ever earned and you don't even get to leave on your own terms.
You don't get to win this, Redemption. Drake. Whoever the fuck you want to be called. You don't get to injure my family, embarrass my friends and try to cripple me and win. You don't get my career, Redemption. You don't.
I've loved wrestling since I was five years old. Since before I knew what it was. It's been a part of my life in one form or another for 36 years. I will not let a mask-wearing, psychotic, lowlife take it from me. Not you. Not someone that can't even put a shirt on if someone better than him didn't wear that shirt first. You're a rabid dog, Redemption. You broke into my house, pissed on the rug and knocked over the trash can. Now it's up to me to put two in your head and call it a night.
It raises the question: if I love wrestling so much, why would I put my career on the line? Because I know I can beat you. I have beaten you. I'm not saying this match will be a walk in the park but I know I can win. More than that, you do not get to continue this vendetta with me by hurting those I care about.
Yes, Trent and I have our issues, and that's on you. But we've worked through worse. I still want my friend to be here when you're gone so that we have that chance. Because ending Redemption's career...it does more than get you out of my life. It does more than take away the very thing you love. It saves Trent's career. It saves his life. It keeps him from having to ever work for you again. It stops you from ever putting anyone in that position again. You can't be forced to work for Redemption if there is no Redemption.
I want to take everything from you that you have left. I want your career. I want your mask. I want the knowledge that every time you get up in the morning for whatever your new job may be, you know it's not as a wrestler because I did that. JC beat Redemption in the middle of a Carnage Wrestling, far far away from the ashes of a federation that's better off dead. You should be dead too Redemption, but I'll settle for the next best thing.
There will come a day when JC hangs up the boots. I know it's coming. I'm not so blind that I don't see that my time in the spotlight is drawing to a close. Hell, I'm basically a part-time performer as it is. My last match was on October 1, after all. So let's not get delusional and act like I'm going to do this forever.
But I won't be retired by you, Drake Munday. I refuse to go out on anything but my own terms, and certainly not at your hands. You don't get to have that accomplishment. You don't get to become the man who retired JC. Instead you get to sit at home, watch my matches on the Carnage Network and throw your drink in rage that you can't do this anymore. Not because of Jesse Williams. Not because of Angel. Not because of Bryan fucking Tann. Your career will end because of me and the rest of the world will thank me for it.
For so long I considered myself a monster. Now I see myself as a flawed human. However, for one night only, I become a monster-slayer. I will end the threat of Redemption for this generation and future generations to come before you're allowed to poison this business anymore. For all my talk of saving wrestling back in OWF, now I can actually do it.
All I have to do is beat you to a bloody pulp and send you out on your shield.
I was orphaned at fourteen. I began training at the age of twenty-two and I made my professional debut at the age of 24. Seventeen years later and I'm not ready to leave yet. I brought myself up from nothing, I became something and I only return to the dust when I say it's time. As for you, your time is up.
I will retire you. For my friends. For my family. For this business.
And for me.
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But you can't make me change my name
You'll never make me change my name
Pay no mind now ain't that something
Fuck it all! I came from nothing
