“Hell's waking up every goddamn day and not even knowing why you're here.”
- Marv, Sin City
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“I’m just gonna go take a bath… Try and relax.”
Joe stood there for a moment, mulling things over in his head as Lucy went upstairs to do exactly what she said. She did at least pay him a smile on her way up, giving him some reassurance that the argument they just had wasn't as bad as they often felt. It was August, not long before the two would team up at Kobayshi Maru.
"I love you," she said, holding his gaze for a moment, before turning and heading back up. "I'll be back down in a bit."
As he continued to think to himself, he absentmindedly replied, "I love you too."
The truth was, Joe only liked to fight as JC. He could trash talk on Twitter all day, not even meaning half of the things he said, just to get under the skin of his opponents. But fighting with people he loved over ultimately stupid things? He couldn't handle it. It made his skin crawl. It made him want to hide somewhere deep in himself, as that would be better than saying (or worse, doing) something he'd regret.
And arguing about Eden was ultimately stupid. Whatever her involvement was in past attacks on Lucy, it was Lucy's decision to say if she was okay. Not his.
He still thought she needed some help for what he thought was PTSD, but he knew better than most that pushing someone towards help was more than likely to get them to refuse it. Part of him wanted to keep pressuring her because he cared, but he also knew it'd be a bad idea.
Joe shook his head. He grabbed a bottle of root beer, because he was one of those rare people in wrestling who didn't actually drink. Chugging it halfway, he let the sugar and carbonation clear his mind as it cleansed his palate.
The real issue, the same issue that had been bothering them since she returned to UGWC, was Tempest. Tempest and his 'creeps', living up to the name. Tempest had thrown him...them, completely off track by getting into his head. He had been doing just fine with his illness and his career until that point. Their counseling was actually going well. They were on the road to recovery.
Now they were on a road to nowhere, due to Tempest's meddling. He saw a weakness and exploited it. Joe had been doubting himself, still doubted himself. Somehow that little weasel figured it out and used it against him.
The fact that it worked made him doubt himself more. He didn't like being in a position of weakness, and he often found himself there lately.
JC's anger grew and he squeezed the glass bottle, not even realizing what he was doing it. That is, he didn't realize until the bottle broke. It didn't shatter, as you might see in the movies. There was a popping noise and it splintered. A sliver slid up his palm and opened it up to reveal the red underneath.
He didn't really feel it. Not the initial slice, anyway. He just felt the item in his hand crunch inward and then a warm sensation that felt odd since the beverage was cold. He glanced down and only when the soda began to mix in his wound did the pain hit.
"Shit," he said, giving the only reaction that felt appropriate.
He dropped the bottle into the sink and stuck his hand under the faucet, spraying off the drink but not really doing much to stop the pain. If anything, the pressure of the stream made it worse. But once the cut was cleaned out, he grabbed a nearby dish towel and wrapped it around. It would do for now. It was unfortunate that he grabbed the white one.
Perhaps it was the sudden shock of injuring himself or perhaps he need to be briefly distracted, but the answer about what to do about Tempest hit him almost immediately after he was finished.
If he had no problem being the bad guy...then why not be the bad guy?
The idea was good enough that he began to stride from the kitchen area and up the staircase, not even noticing that the dish towel had already begun to bleed through and was now red with white edges.
Joe got to the top of the stairs and found himself in the bedroom they shared. He went to the far right and noticed the bathroom door was cracked open just a tad, and steam seeped out from where it could. Since it was his right hand that was injured, he awkwardly pushed it open with his left and took a step in.
Lucy was in the tub, as she said she would be, eyes closed. The steam was also coming off the water, as she was surrounded by the suds on the surface.
"Jesus, Joe," she grumbled, never opening her eyes. "You could have knocked first."
She seemed irritated but only slightly. At first Joe seemed confused, because he had been so caught up in his thoughts that the thought that he'd have to knock didn't cross his mind.
"We're literally getting married soon," he said, fumbling over his words a little. Perhaps he should have waited for her to finish. Or at the very least, knocked as she said.
Without really thinking about it, he casually moved his right hand behind his back. He felt wetness against the back of his shirt. This was going to be a problem.
"Yes...but I came up here for some alone time."
"Sorry. I just...had a thought and kinda..."
Why did he feel the need to rush up here? He wasn't sure. But he was here now.
"So, what's this thought that couldn't wait a few more minutes?"
He realized he had kind of lost his train of thought. So he continued to stumble over his words a little more.
“Tempest,” he managed to get out.
One of her eyes opened and she glared at him a little. He couldn’t tell if she was actually annoyed or playing like she was mad at this point. Maybe it was a little of both. He lowered his head a moment.
“I mean, he’s the reason we’ve been fighting more lately, I think.”
"...Yeah? So you wanted to come up here and interrupt my bath to remind me about that asshole. Nice."
Joe sighed, realizing that in his hurry to come up here and tell her his idea, he might have started another fight. He rubbed the back of his head with his left hand and tried to think of a way to quickly apologize and leave her be.
“Shit, um...I’m…”
He glanced back up and saw she was grinning at him.
“Oh.”
She chuckled at getting him flustered.
“Okay, what about Tempest?” she asked.
He rolled his eyes, slightly annoyed, but being slightly annoyed was better than fighting. Besides, he deserved it for barging in.
“Well,” he said, trying to figure out a way to explain it properly. “Tempest wants us to split up, right?”
Her eyebrow raised a bit, curious.
“What if we give him what he wants?”
"Okay, you've got my attention…"
She raised up and placed both arms on the edge of the tub, which caused some of the water to spill out onto the floor. She rested her chin on her forearm and looked up at him, her interest piqued.
“What if I came out after our match or something, and said that I accepted his offer to join the Creeps?”
Tricking someone like Tempest would be easy, he guessed. The guy never seemed like he was playing with a full deck. Plus, he got the impression everyone in UGWC didn’t think he was capable of outwitting someone. When you wrestled the way he did, and gave into violent impulses as often as he did, you weren’t exactly giving off vibes of being a Rhodes scholar.
“I haven’t put together all the details yet,” he admitted.
"If we're gonna make him believe you really bought into what he said… We gotta do more than that."
He felt warmness on his fingers and realized that his cut was still bleeding. How deep did that glass cut him? He kept his hand behind his back as he thought about what she said.
“Tempest isn’t really bright, I don’t think,” he replied. “I think if I went out there and, I don't know, said some of the things we’ve argued about, I could sell it.”
"Talk is cheap, Joe."
“Okay,” he sighed, nearing the point of exasperation. It seemed like a good idea at the time. “What did you have in mind?”
"If you wanna make a statement," she said, a mischievous look in her eyes, "You gotta take me out."
He moved his left hand behind his back and pressed the cloth onto his palm to control the bleeding a little. A new flash of pain began to radiate up his arm but he did his best to ignore it. It’s not that he was trying to hide it from her, he just wanted to get this settled first. And he could handle a cut on his own, anyway.
“Take you out?”
He saw the look in her eyes and wanted to be sure she meant what he thought she meant.
“You want me to attack you?”
"That's what 'take me out' means, baby."
Having something explained to him like he was five made him feel a little sheepish. He shook his head.
“What exactly are we talking about here? One move? A clothesline and some stomps? I don’t want to actually hurt you, Luce.”
She shrugged her shoulders. The water sloshed around a little as she did so.
"I don't know. Whatever you gotta do to convince him that you're on his side. I can take a hit, Joe."
He shrugged in response.
“I know. I’ve hit you with my best. But...it feels weird.”
"Well, yeah. I mean we're sitting here while I'm naked in a tub talking about you attacking me to fool some facepainted dickwad. This is entirely weird."
“I wasn’t gonna bring that first part up,” he added, chuckling. “You’re right. We have complicated lives.”
"No shit."
“Okay,” he continued. “So I attack you. We make Tempest think I’m with him and then when the time is right, we both take him out. That sounds like a good plan to me.”
He squeezed his hand harder and winced.
“I think the entire roster is going to hate me for this, at least until they find out the truth.”
"If we do this right, they will." She stopped, watching him for a few seconds. "Now what did you do to your hand?"
And they were having a perfectly reasonable, if out of the ordinary conversation before this.
He pulled his hand out from behind his back to reveal the blood-soaked cloth. He gave a slight smile, to reassure her things were fine.
“I was going to take care of it on my own. I got...a little angry while thinking about this. Bottle broke.”
She sighed and shook her head, pulling herself up out of the tub and wrapping a towel around her. "So you were just gonna bleed out while we plotted this sinister plan? Give me your hand."
“Of course not. I just wanted to get in, tell you about it and get out. You know, not ruining the bath that I’ve already ruined.”
When he said it out loud, it sounded really stupid. He turned his hand over and as she inspected it, sitting on the edge of the tub as she did so, a thought crossed his mind.
“If this is gonna work,” he started, not really wanting to finish the thought.
“Hmm?”
“We’re going to have to really sell it. No one’s going to buy it if we’re leaving the arena together right after. Or...staying in the same place. One fan’s photo of us together on Twitter and this whole thing blows up.”
She nodded her head, remaining focused on getting the bleeding to stop.
"Yeah.. You're right."
Realizing that they might be away from each other for a while, a sadness began to creep into the room that neither really wanted to acknowledge.
“You think it needs stitches?” he asked, nodding downward at the cut.
She shook her head.
"Nah. It's not that deep.. It's just annoying."
Lucy held pressure on the cut and looked up into his eyes.
"It'll be okay though.. Everything. We'll figure out a way around the prying eyes of the world… somehow."
He nodded along as she began to dress his wound, feeling low in spite of, or perhaps because of everything that they had talked about.
It'll be okay.
He had his doubts.
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Months later and most of their problems were solved. At least, as it pertained to UGWC.
JC revealed the ruse to Tempest in a violent fashion, letting Lucy get most of the shots in. He taught him a lesson and it seemed that, on that front, Lucy could handle it the rest of the way. Given how much of their plan came from her, to his surprise, he assumed she’d insist to be the one to finish it. He had been dragging her good name as well, after all.
That was just fine, of course, because JC had other plans.
It was fall. It was ten days before Halloween. More importantly, it was twelve days before JC’s first one-on-one match for the UGWC World Heavyweight title. He managed to secure the shot on the same night Tempest got his head kicked in. It was probably the best night of his UGWC career.
Second-best, if things went well at Battleground.
On this day, he found himself inside of an old barn, which wasn’t somewhere he thought he would be. It was the kind of barn you passed on the miles of desolate road as you make your way from town to town in the midwest, and yet there had been just enough upkeep to prevent it from caving in on whoever might be unfortunate enough to use it.
The barn belonged to another veteran in the sport, Mac Bane, who offered JC the use of the ring inside of it. To be more accurate, JC needed a sparring partner and Mac just happened to be in Port Arthur, Texas instead of Baltimore, Maryland when he asked him. Not that it mattered much overall. He had time to kill and the idea of driving himself the twenty-plus hour distance just to get some training in seemed like a perfectly good use of his time.
Even if he asked on the 20th and didn’t get there until the 21st.
“I know,” he said, as he pulled up the dirt road leading into the ranch. “I’m late. By a lot.”
Mac gave him an easy smile and extended his hand.
"No problem at all Joe."
Joe accepted the handshake and smirked.
“I’m surprised you agreed, but I figure after all the shit we talked, I’d give you a few free shots.”
Now it was Mac's turn to smirk.
"Hell Joe, as long as we've been doing this? Talking shit is second nature to us. Gladly accept the free shots, since I know you'll be getting some in return."
"I guess there's a benefit to being mature in this business," Joe replied. He could name a few other people who couldn't handle the slightest wound to their character.
The two walked up the trail to the barn and slipped inside. JC looked over at the ring and saw that in spite of where it was housed, it was actually well-maintained. He dropped his bag on the ground, and bent over, looking inside for his wrist tape while Mac casually strolled around and slid inside.
“You’re not at all curious why I asked you instead of somebody else?”
He spoke as he wrapped the tape around his wrists and held it up to his teeth, ripping it from its roll and security it in place. The process was repeated with the other arm, where a certain spot on his palm had a mark straight up where a cut had previously been. It was still there, of course, but well on its way to being completely healed. It would probably scar, but that was fine. At the moment, it more resembled another palm line than a wound.
"I figured you'd tell me eventually, I doubted it had anything to do with my natural charm and good looks. That though, that's a pretty ugly cut."
“Oh yeah, that.” He stood up and glanced at his hand again. “Got mad. Broke a bottle. You know how it is.”
Mac nods in agreement.
"I do, indeed. So, you want to spar, I'm assuming it's someone who fights with a similar style?"
“Right,” he confirmed, as he got inside the ring himself. “He’s smaller than you but I need somebody who's well versed in strong style. It’s not exactly something I can get from Trent.”
The circumstances weren't exactly perfect, but you don't prepare for someone like Hide Yamazaki by just studying tape.
"Okay, that's fair. So, you want me to unload on you is what I'm getting from you?"
JC rolled his shoulders, and then his neck, to work out kinks. With the latter, there was always a permanent kink, but he did what he could. Keep on keepin' on, as Curtis Mayfield once sang.
“More or less.”
The two locked up in a traditional lockup and it went from there. It started as a traditional wrestling match, which was specifically not what JC asked for, but he played along. JC got Mac in a headlock, Mac tried a wrist lock and Joe, already annoyed, threw an elbow behind him and caught him flush in the chin. That was enough to get Mac to release his arm.
JC caught his glance and flashed him an unhappy look. Not uncommon, from someone who describes himself in his Twitter bio as 'eternally grumpy.'
“If I wanted traditional wrestling, I could have gone to the Aerie again. Hit me.”
Mac nodded firmly and made as if he was going to go for a lockup again, but surprised JC by popping him with a receipt in the form of a forearm. It caught him right along his jawline, but he pushed through and they began to trade blows for a solid minute. JC then swung wildly and Mac ducked, before grabbing him and suplexing him straight down on his neck.
JC rolled around and got up to a knee. He rubbed his newly-sore neck. That would hurt in the morning, and probably after.
But he still felt Mac was holding back, and he knew Hide wouldn't.
“Come on," he barked, although it came out more like a cough as he tried to catch his breath. "You hit like a bitch.”
Alright big boy, this one’s on you.”
Mac said flatly, as his nostrils flared and the heat rose in his face.
Joe knew exactly what he was doing, of course. He knew Mac had a temper. Like himself, he carried a lot of anger over the years that was easy to bring to the surface. And he didn’t just have a World Champion wrestling a certain style to worry about. He had a pissed off World Champion.
At least with the cowboy, he knew they could share a drink after he got it out of his system.
“Yeah just shut up and do it. Your girlfriend hits harder than you and she’s a third your size.”
Of course the girlfriend in this case was a former World champion, by why argue semantics?
Mac rushed forward and slammed his arm into the chest of JC with a lariat, knocking him down. He scrambled back up to his feet and hit one of his own.
Making someone angry had its consequences, especially if you weren’t prepared. But he made it a habit of always being prepared.
He braced himself as his sparring partner charged in again.
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Only eleven days later and the circumstances changed dramatically. JC was now two days away from a UGWC World title match and nine from a World title match in Carnage. He had the chance to make history, to become the first person ever to hold both belts at once. Surely such a statement would finally cement his legacy in the way he desired.
Perhaps that was why he chose to dress the part for Halloween. A replica title from each promotion sat on each shoulder, UGWC on the left and Carnage on the right. He stood outside of his car and waited for Lucy to get out from the other side.
Halloween was by far his favorite holiday, and he wasn't going to let his daughter miss it this year, not for anything.
The lengths he went to in order to make that happened could be a story of their own.
Being as he was a wrestler at two shows and would have to quarantine two weeks before hand, it seemed impossible. But he avoided everyone at Chaos and Synergy, even changing in his car, in order to do do. He had two opponents in Chaos and they both agreed to be tested when he asked. After beating them and going home, he got tested himself a couple of times to be sure.
He still had reservations, but he was fairly confident that his methods worked out.
For her part, Lucy wanted to dress as a zombie, then stopped halfway into the costume because she feared she'd scare Lizzie. She only had a painted face. Joe walked around to the back and opened up a door, and out popped a little dog.
At least, a three-year-old girl dressed like a dog.
"Okay pup," Joe said. "Hop on out."
"I'm not a pup, Daddy. I'm Skye. From Paw Patrol."
He glanced over at Lucy who closed her eyes as she smiled, still beautiful to him even with her ghoulish makeup. As was Lizzie, his new daughter-dog hybrid.
Lucy simply shrugged.
"You're on your own, Joe."
She walked ahead to say hello to Joe's brother and Lizzie's uncle Eric, who was outside already. To his credit, he was dressed up too, although Joe couldn't make out the costume from where he was. He looked down at his daughter again who was still adjusting her fake dog ears.
"I'm sorry, Skye. I forgot."
"That's okay," she replied, before sticking out her hand. "Can we go see Uncle Eric now?"
"Sure thing," he said calmly, taking her tiny hand into his. Just before she grabbed it, she looked at it for a moment and studied it.
"Daddy, why is there a red line on your hand? Is that part of your costume?"
"That's called a scar, honey."
He smiled warmly at her as she seemed fascinated by this new mark on her father's hand, which held hers many times, although not often enough for JC's liking.
"Daddy got it by not watching what he was doing. Remember how we told you to pay attention?"
"Yeah," she said shyly.
"Well, sometimes adults need to do that too. Now let's go see your Uncle"
She slid her hand into his again and got in a position that suggested she was ready to take off.
"This pup's gotta fly!"
He assumed that was something from the show, and took larger steps as she tried to run to make up the distance. Eventually she pulled free and he let her, never holding a strong grip to begin with. She ran ahead to meet her uncle, who...was also dressed like a dog.
Of course the squeal that escaped his daughter told him that it was also someone from the show.
"Look Dad! It's Marshall!"
The former GI wasn't just dressed as a dog, but a Dalmatian. And not just a Dalmatian, but one who worked as a firefighter.
Lizzie began to dance around him as JC closed the distance and stood next to Lucy. It was all she could do to keep herself from laughing at him, so she hid her mouth with a hand as some giggles forced their way out.
"Wow, bro. That costume is certainly a choice."
"Hey, I'm not going anywhere else. This is for Lizzie. I'm the funcle."
"Funcle?" Lucy was the one who decided to ask, saving Joe the trouble.
"Fun uncle."
"Right."
Lizzie stopped her dancing right in front of Eric, before pulling out a bag and holding it up to him. It was her first Halloween to go trick or treating, as she had been too young to do so before. With the world the way it was, Joe wanted to make sure she had something she had been looking forward to for months.
She glanced up at him, as if asking if it was okay to ask for candy. He smiled and nodded.
"Trick or treat!"
"Oh I'm sorry, kid. The candy's all inside. You'll have to go say hi to Kayla to get it."
Kayla was Eric's girlfriend and one of the reasons he decided he was okay with not wrestling anymore.
Lizzie looked around at the three adults and frowned. She was having trouble deciding which one to pick. To everyone's surprise, she tugged at Lucy's jacket.
"Aunt Lucy? Can you take me to the candy?"
Lucy looked at the other two, who offered no help whatsoever. She looked back at the kid and while she wasn't sure why she was picked, she seemed pretty pleased by the decision. A smile formed on her face as she took Lizzie's hand.
"Uh okay, sure."
The two walked up towards GI's house as its owner turned to look at his brother. He eyed him cautiously, a half-grin on his face.
"So your big costume is...two title belts? Because you have two title shots?"
Joe nodded and adjusted, making sure each belt was held in place.
"Dress for the job you want," he said confidently. "Not the job you have."
"You think you can pull off winning both belts?"
Joe considered this for a moment. He had been so caught up in earning the title shots that he hadn't actually considered what he might do if he got them. The various negative emotions he had been feeling over the past year had blinded him to the possibility that he could achieve something that was very rare in the business: a first. The first to ever hold these two specific championships at the same time.
"I...I don't know," he replied honestly. "I hope so. Everything I said about redemption and my legacy and all that was true, you know?"
Eric, who hadn't wrestled in a year and even then only to stop his brother from hurting others, unconsciously scratched at a place on his head that had a nice scar of its own. A nice token for him to remember his own career by.
"Yeah, I get it. So tell me, what happens if you lose?"
The older brother sighed and took the belts off of his shoulders, setting them down on the porch as he did.
"I'm not ready to think about that right now."
He glanced in through the bay window of the home to see Lucy and Kayla talking while Lizzie inspected each piece of candy she had been given. Many of them were simply full-sized candy bars.
He turned to his brother and smiled.
"But you know, I've got Lucy back. I've got a good relationship with Stacy and I've got Lizzie."
"And me," Eric reminded him.
Joe nodded in return with an amused expression on his face.
"Yeah, you too. So whatever happens, at least I know I've got someone to fall back on. My medication's working. I really need this, I really need to show I can do it without...without my demons. But I think I'll be okay if I don't, too."
Eric nodded and put a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Well Joe," he said. "I'm no therapist but I'd say that's a very healthy way of looking at it."
Before the conversation could continue, Joe noticed that Lizzie had started to fly out the door and down the porch steps, bag in tow. She hadn't been paying attention, because candy was spilling out the side and marking a trail back inside. Lucy walked out behind her, behind over to pick up each piece.
Joe felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. Something that maybe would end up being more important than any legacy.
Joe felt a semblance of peace.
And yet, something still nagged at him in spite of this. What if he could end things on a high note? What if he did become a champion again. Or a double champion?
There was nothing wrong with striving to achieve the best possible ending. If not, then what were the scars for?
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The lights flickered on, showing that bright, off-white fluorescent glow that's almost too bright. In view there were a group of chairs, all surrounding each other in a wide circle, spaced out evenly. In the middle, in another chair, sat JC. In front of him, a trash can that had been charred black and bent inward.
JC kept his head lowered, staring down at the object and not looking directly at the camera that happened to be filming.
I think it's time for some group therapy.
It's time for the three of us to have a meeting about what's going to happen at Battleground. You'll forgive me if I remain socially distanced until then. Besides, there's not enough room for you here. As you can see...
'The Answer' gestured to the chairs surrounding him, as if there were people sitting in them.
My demons are already here.
He looked up at the camera and a sly grin formed on his face.
Now, the manager Johnny Bonecrusher, petulant child that he is, might be inappropriately angered right now. That vein on the side of his head might be pulsating just by looking at my face. And the only thing JBC can think is, "demons aren't real!"
I don't plan to shout for effect, but you can probably hear him doing it in your head, can't you?
And to that I say, these are. They're certainly more real than Hide's chances of beating me at Battleground.
JC leaned forward again, glaring at the camera. His eyes were cold and unfeeling and his mouth was twisted in a slasher smile.
Have you heard of radical acceptance, Johnny?
I'm sure you have, surely, since you claim to to have two brains. We're hoping one of those is actually a tumor, but that's a conversation for another day.
Radical acceptance, as explained to me by my therapist, is the act of accepting when bad shit happens. It's acknowledging that yes, this thing happened. Not only did it happen, but you have to recognize that there's nothing you can do to change it. All you can do is move on. If you don't, you'll continue to wallow in misery.
He chuckled to himself, as if he just remembered a private joke.
But I don't want to bore you with behavioral therapy methods in a pro wrestling promo. Certainly not the same way you bored everyone else with that ceremony you used to spit in the eye of the very legacy that belt holds. Every former champion should have come out to stomp you both into the dirt for that dog and pony show.
My point is that I have accepted my lot in life, my demons. I have accepted that I'm mentally ill. That I'm prone to violence. That I'm incapable of properly managing emotions. I accept that I'll have that daily struggle until the day I die.
And now, Johnny, Hide, I think you both need to accept something as well.
Another grin formed, as JC seemed to like his chances. Or, like he had many times in the past, he was simply projecting confidence to throw his opponent off. Fake it until you make it. Only JC knew for sure.
It's time to accept that Hide's time as the World Champion is over. There's nothing you can do to change it. The only thing you can do now is try to live life and pursue whatever happiness you can find.
I hear there are certain members of the Carnage roster ready to be his next opponent.
It is what it is. On November 2, the time of Hide Yamazaki is over and the time of JC will have finally begun.
Take that lesson and learn to improve your lives. Especially you, Johnny, because I'm sure you'll have an aneurysm when the bell rings.
Eden calls you a potato but I'll be honest, I don't really agree with that. Potatoes are useful. And a retired wrestler who shouts a lot isn't much use to anyone.
He brushed his hair back behind him, choosing to finally get serious as the grin fades and he stares solemnly ahead.
But I'm not fighting the illustrious Johnny Bonecrusher...
A single grin and scoff escaped him, stealing the solemnity for a brief moment.
...at Battleground. Even though I'd like to be. I'd like to break his jaw and his hands so none of us ever have to hear from him again.
But no, I'm fighting Hide Yamakazi.
Hide, I've maintained from the start that I respect you. Whether or not that means anything to you, I don't know. But I do. You won Battleground last year and you're a two-time champion here. You jumped out of relative obscurity and became a player.
Other than the company you keep, what's not to respect?
He bent over and reached inside the flattened garbage can and pulls out a UGWC championship belt. It was obviously a replica, but the message it sent was anything but fake.
This match is almost four years in the making. I've been in and out of UGWC, chasing success and getting turned down at every opportunity. I've been mocked. I've been beaten. I've been laughed at for daring to share the ring with the likes of Jet Somers or Chaos.
Hide, your history, impressive as it is, no longer has any meaning for me. My history is one of proving others wrong. My fuel is spite. I take the critics who can't accept my skills and I beat them into submission.
Just like Jet Somers or Chaos.
And soon, just like you and your perpetually angered friend.
There hasn't been a moment in my UGWC career where I haven't been overlooked by somebody. And you think I'm what, just gonna come to Battleground and lay down? You think you're going to take me out, "Hurricane Hide"?
JC shook his head. He cleared his throat, fighting back feelings of resentment and choosing to channel it into resolve.
No.
That's not the way this story ends. Because what you've failed to notice is that I have the perfect storm behind me. And now all I've got to do is pin you, Hide. Defeat you and the demons you have, because we're more similar than the manager with a thousand stupid nicknames would care to admit.
You're not unbeatable Hide. You've not invincible. If anything, you charging at me like a moron because your anger got the better of you proves that. Johnny blames me for your burns but what, was I supposed to just let myself get hit? Please. You made a choice and now you're dealing with the consequences.
And sure, maybe some of my wins have been luck. Or maybe I know what I'm doing and this has all been a plan, getting myself notoriety and momentum for this night, for this match, for this championship.
All it takes is one boot and three seconds and I've achieved history. I've been getting closer and closer and now I'm ready to take that final step.
Anger washed over his face. He stood up and with a sweep of his leg, he kicked the trash can into the nearby chairs, scattering them. The replica title hangs at his side.
His blood boiled and his hands squeezed into fists. His eyes, however, continued to stare forward. Through the camera and into Hide's soul, if that were possible.
If I have to choose "out of spite" as a reason to beat you, I'll do that. But that belt you have is my legacy. It's proving that not only can I be a champion here, but I don't have to be like the 'creeps' of the world to do it.
I did not give twenty goddamn years of my life to this business just to be treated like an afterthought. I did not sacrifice my neck, my mental health, two marriages and numerous friendships to be forgotten. I am so, SO fucking close. And Hide Yamazaki, if I've got to break every bone in your body and send you back into that obscurity you crawled out of, I'll do it.
I'll do it with a fucking smile on my face.
My wounds sat and festered and I'm sick of it. It's time to heal, and make this all worth it. Because I've had moments of self-doubt and bitterness. Moments of being scorned and humiliated. And it's all led to this.
And I'll be damned if I'm going to let you take that moment from me.
Take a good look, because this is your future.
The smile formed again, a little of the old JC days. Back when he was carefree and gleefully mocked his opponents before he beat them. That version of him was mostly dead, replaced by a remorseful former villain who had weathered his own personal storm to get here.
He raised the replica belt up with his left hand, held it into the air and, in a wink to a GIF that JBC loved to use, stuck out his tongue and flipped off his audience.
So Johnny, Hide, I want you to accept this. It is what it is. You two will no longer have the UGWC World title after Battlegrounds.
I didn't get this far just to get this far.
And you're about to learn how far I'll go to make that statement true.
JC stepped out of frame, knocking over more chairs and walking past his demons. The time for talk was over.
It was time for one last wound to heal.
