Down In A Hole

   “What is a man? A miserable pile of secrets!”

- Dracula, Castlevania: Symphony of the Night

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"...was betrayed long before I beat you up a little a couple of weeks ago."

JC watched Lucy get mad and smiled, a fake smile hiding the inner turmoil he had been relatively good at hiding. Just because it was something he had to do, something that was meant to better his career, doesn't mean he necessarily wanted to do. 

He turned off the feed to the arena, which had been broadcasting him via Zoom for all of the Synergy audience to see. He wasn't at Synergy, however. He was miles and miles away, in Baltimore, getting ready to wrestle in Carnage. Everyone thought he was winding down, in the twilight of his career, but here he was keeping up a pace younger wrestlers never could.

This was not a downward spiral and fuck anyone who thought so.

The feed to the arena was off, but he didn't bother turning off the program. Why bother? He might have to use it again later. It's not like anyone could see the feed anymore, no matter if it was recording or not. He placed his hands on his thighs and pushed himself to his feet, feeling his bones creak as he did. 

No, didn't want to hurt Lucy. And he knew he was still hurting her. 

But he had to. 

After another stretch, knowing his match was minutes away, he turned to the side and noticed Trent Steel standing in the doorway of his locker room. Trent looked like he'd just been on a bender, but Joe doubted that he had in the middle of a wrestling show.

He peeled away his standard red Oakley sunglasses and glared at JC. They had been together as a team for the better part of the decade, fought each other a few times, and Trent never looked at JC the way he was right now. Usually that was reserved for his opponents.

JC knew right away what the problem was.

"Hey! You know, when I called you a caveman over the years, that was meant as a term of a affection."

"Trent..."

"It wasn't a god damn fucking instruction manual on how to become the most inept motherfucker on the planet!"

"How long have you been there?"

Trent ignored the question. He was furious. His eyes were bloodshot, a reflection of the sunglasses he previously removed. However, he hadn't left where he was standing yet. Maybe, JC thought, there was a way to fix this. To bring him on board. 

Maybe I won't lose everything over this.

As if he hadn't let JC's question hang in the air for an uncomfortable length of time, Trent continued as if he never stopped.

"You actually believe the shit you were spewing or do I have to knock some god damn sense into your fucking frontal lobes again? You goddamned woman-beating son of a bitch!"

"Calm down, Trent." 

"Don't you fucking..."

"Lucy's a grown woman. She can handle herself. Like you haven't done worse for paper-thin reasons."

Trent huffed and tossed his glasses aside, clenching his fists into balls. There was a window of time where JC might have been able to diffuse the situation, but he had a feeling that moment was about ten minutes before his best friend ever entered the room.

"Just tell me why. And it'd better be a better reason than you just gave her."

"I don't have the time to explain this to you. I have a match..."

"At this point, motherfucker, you're going to be lucky to make it out there. So talk."

"She was holding me back."

"What did I just say? I don't want to hear that bullshit. That's what you tell them. You don't say that to me."

JC scowled.

"I knew you wouldn't understand. You're so used to being held back it's become instinct for you."

"The fuck did you say?"

"I got kicked out of here because of her. I went to UGWC and tried to make my career there, and again, she stole my thunder. Then, when I was ready to win gold, finally, she screwed me over. There's no other story to tell. I'm done with people keeping me from being the best I can be."

"That's the shittiest possible reason to throw that away that I've ever heard."

"Well it's the only one you're going to get."

Trent looked down for a moment, and his fists unclenched. Trent had a lot of righteous anger when the situation called for it. He nodded, letting the moment breathe.

"Yeah, and you're gonna get this."

If anyone ever asked JC who the person to ever hit him the hardest was, he'd say Trent Steel. A hardened man who knew how to hurt people, because he'd been doing it all his life. This time was no different, as Trent's fist caught JC right in the mouth, pushing his lips into his teeth and immediately splitting one of them open. JC wasn't entirely sure, because it was one huge burst of pain all at once.

"This is the only thing you understand."

He went for another punch, but JC lowered his head and ran his shoulder into Trent's midsection, lifting him up and running him backward into the wall as hard as he can. He took a step back and checked his mouth for a moment, but Trent lunged forward and socked him again, this time causing fireworks to go off in his head by hitting him right in the temple. 

JC stumbled backward and Trent relented. Perhaps he had calmed down a little. Maybe now they could talk.

"I didn't want to have to do that."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Alright..."

Trent was eerily calm as he moved forward again and swung for JC's head, but this time JC caught his hand and bent his fingers backward with one hand, before swinging forward and braining Trent with a headbutt. JC was dazed again, but the headbutt did its job. 

JC grabbed Trent by the throat and tossed him behind him, sending him into the lockers. He started to walk forward.

Turning his back was a mistake.

He felt a sudden weight on his back and realized that Trent was on there. If he didn't realize that the second it happened, he would have when he started to get hit repeatedly in the face with a series of crossface forearms. JC ran backward and pushed Trent into the lockers again. He turned around and began to deliver clubbing blows to his back, while Trent began to hit him in the ribs with more shots.

After what seemed like hours of fighting in the span of a couple of minutes, he heard voices and hands grabbed Trent and pulled him back, while others pushed his own body backward. It was various members of the Carange roster. Several backstage employees, referees, security, wrestlers, all spilled into the room to stand between them. 

More people had to hold Trent back than did JC, because he was exhausted. He fell to his knees and then rolled on his back. Tweeder, a Carnage legend that he didn't even know was in the building, offered to him help him. He waved his hand away. 

Meanwhile, Trent seemed to be calmer now. Security pushed him back, an effort to prevent this from getting any worse than it had. He dusted himself off and stared down at JC, who decided not to move. 

"I love you man. I'll stand by you. But you need to fix this."

As security pushed his best friend away...perhaps former best friend if things went as poorly as they just did, JC laid on the floor of the locker room. He tasted the bitter copper of his own blood as it pooled under his bottom lip. He slowly pushed himself up to an elbow and then spat a big, sticky glob of plasma onto the floor, before wiping the rest away. 

The fact that he had a match soon, very soon, was not lost on him. He spat again, as the cut hadn't healed yet.

That's when he noticed the laptop, still sitting where it had been. Still transmitting via Zoom. No way this wouldn't be broadcast on UGWC airwaves. UGWC star gets in a fight backstage at a Carnage event? That was buzzworthy. 

"Fuck."

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A week later, he found himself in Chicago. The home of Synergy. He would be sharing a building with his fiancee for the first time since he kicked her in the skull. 

Synergy was later in the day. For the moment, he found himself in the parking lot, staring into his camera phone. 

The cut on his lip had healed nicely, even though he did received a few shots to it during his match. 

But it was time for Joe to go away, and the more confident, darker JC to come through. Today it felt more like Joe was the mask and JC was the real him. Other days it was different. 

Hello, my name is human.

He smirked to himself, as if he just told a very funny private joke.

Actually, I've always considered myself more human than human. Above the rest of you. Better. Stronger. Faster. 

So for those of you who ask "why," I reply, "why not?" 

Do you really think I want to be considered as someone in Lucy Johnson's shadow? I am JC, damnit. I am a five-time World champion. I am a first-ballot Hall of Famer. I am the best this business has to offer. You want to point to my recent losses, particularly in title matches, and say otherwise? Fine. 

But let's be honest here. When I'm in there one-on-one, I rarely lose. And if I do, it takes a fucking lot to beat me. I would be Chaos champion right now if that moron Rogan MacLean didn't decide to turn it into a Legends of the Hidden Temple clusterfuck. Sorry, Olmec, I thought this was a professional wrestling company. I thought we wrestled. 

Congrats to Sloane Taylor on being able to become the American Ninja Warrior.

Another smirk. He decided to play this cool. Let everyone else be mad. Let Lucy act like she did nothing wrong. None of that mattered to him.

Not when his mask of sanity had slipped away.

So I spend the next couple of weeks proving that I'm everything I said I am. I drop Konrad. I pin Sah'ta Thor. I do it with relative ease, if I do say so myself. If you really, really want to know the facts, I began to consider doing what I did after that match with Konrad.

Lucy came strolling out to steal my thunder, just as she did by coming back to UGWC to begin with. Then, after watching how dominant I was, likely decided then and there to go for the tag team titles with me as a partner. After all, who would have ever picked a team consisting of wrestling's most tired trope, the tag team partners who hate each other, over us? I hate the idea of pity or charity, but I went along with it. At that point, I figured maybe there was a chance her heart was in the right place.

Then she tried to hog the glory and all of my hard work at the PPV was lost. So I dropped her just like anyone else that stands in my way. I'm free of the burden that is Lucy Johnson, who will undoubtedly change her last name again when she finds someone else to leech off of.

He thought to himself for a moment, and dramatically put a finger on his chin. Then he feigned surprise and guilt.

Oh I almost forgot, Donovan Hastings is my opponent this week. Gee, Donny, I'm sorry. I got so caught up in talking about important matters I forgot to soothe your deflated ego. After all, no one else around here is willing to do that, so why should I? 

I think you'll be fine. After all, you're a lord, aren't you? A smarmy motherfucker with his sense of importance that some may think is deserved, but I think it's just entitlement. 

You strike me as the type that thinks they're entitled to respect. That thinks they're above it all. After all, we've all seen what you do the second things get real. You make fun. You post stupid gifs. You annoy everyone around you, hoping they'll just shrug you off. "Oh that Donovan. What a rascal."

But I know better.

He pointed to his own head for emphasis as he said this, acknowleging his intelligence. He was really hamming it up but he didn't really care.

It's a defense mechanism, Donny. Because whether you want to acknowledge it or not, you're in the same boat as me. It's been years since you were last world champion. Your last title win was a mostly umimpressive tag team title reign with someone that doesn't even like you. 

I like to give credit where it's due. You used to be a bad man. Used to be. Former five time World champion, after all. At one point, you were dangerous. You were a force to be reckoned with. But that Donovan Hastings is gone. I know because that was not the man I wrestled at the PPV. He's dead. He's as buried as Eden Morgan's empty casket. He's been gone since you retired in 2018.

All we have left is a ghost.

Chuckling to himself, he let the smile naturally fade before continuing with a grimace.

You haunt UGWC, a spectre of the old days, hoping that someone, anyone will notice you. The shadow of a Lord, content playing the clown because it deflects from the fact that you no longer have any bite.

That's the difference between you and me. 

We're in the same boat, but I've still got life left in my veins. I'm still dangerous. Ask the missus if you don't believe me. I'm sure she's cried enough about it.

I would have liked to wrestle Donovan Hastings in his prime. Beating you then would have meant more than it does now. 

He held up a hand to the camera, as he was ready to turn it off. But not before issuing some parting words.

But don't worry Donny. This win won't go without meaning. You can still be of some use.

And I'm going to use you. I'm going to send a message with your battered, bruised, body. The Answer is back and he's making his big UGWC debut. Trust me when I say that none of you have seen this side of me before, and you're all about to wish you hadn't. 

So bring your manservant. Bring that bitch who faked her death but thinks she has the moral high ground. Bring the other bitch who tried to hold me back. In the end it won't matter.

You shouldn't have buried me, UGWC. 

I'm not dead.