“Sometimes the truth isn't good enough, sometimes people deserve more. Sometimes people deserve to have their faith rewarded.”
By all accounts, he shouldn't have been there.
It was technically her little condo. He just moved in for a bit and they hadn't quite found a new place yet. It was one of the things that Joe and Lucy had been talking about before he did what he did. If someone spotted him here, there would be questions.
Questions that he didn't feel like entertaining.
He was in New York City, just outside the door of the condo that, until recently, he shared with his fiancee. It was a nice place. It wasn't anything he'd ever have got on his own, because until this point he had lived in family homes all of his life. He grew up in one and then later moved into another with the family he used to have.
What if she was home?
Worse, what if she wasn't? And was that really the worse situation?
A memory played in his head as he fumbled with the keys in his pocket. They rattled, even against his pants, and he closed his eyes to will himself to enter.
No offense, doc, but that's the most obvious thing you ever said.
And how would you suggest I do that?
That was when his psychiatrist suggested talking to Lucy, and if she wouldn't, write her a letter. Explain himself, apologize, chew her out for perceived wrongs, whatever. It didn't matter what he wrote or said, as long as it was honest and got everything he needed to say in the open.
He took the coward's way out and wrote the letter. Didn't even bother calling or visiting. And if she was home, he'd leave as quickly as he arrived.
But the lights were off.
He sighed and stuck the key into the lock, rolling it to the side until he heard a click and let himself in.
"She didn't change the locks," he muttered to himself.
Joe shook his phone and allowed the light that emitted from it to be his guide. If he turned on the lights, somebody might get the wrong idea. She might come back and see an intruder. And wouldn't that just be a hilarious scenario?
I'm sorry officer, I used to live here and just wanted to leave her a note.
"Yeah," he said aloud, startling himself a little with how loud he seemed in the unusually quiet condo. "I'm sure they'd buy that."
To confirm this, he went to the counter where the coffee machine was. It hadn't been used. Perfectly cleaned out, even. Inside the fridge, bottles of whiskey remained unopened. No coffee and no alcohol, two of her favorite things. Untouched. She hadn't been here in some time, it seemed. There wasn't so much as a used glass in the sink.
Where had she been? Was she staying with Eden this whole time? Or maybe it was her sister? And more importantly, why did he care so much? This was a scenario of his own creation.
He wasn't some cartoon villain, after all. People were more complex than that. Whatever his actions in public, it didn't change the conflicting feelings he had about it. Everything that had happened up until now happened for a reason, and he had to do things he wasn't happy with in order to make plans come to fruition.
That didn't make it hurt any less.
A pang of anxiety swelled up inside of him and he opened the note. It was blank. It was a blank sheet of paper.
Somehow, in his rush to get out here, he grabbed the wrong paper, which meant that her note was back at the hotel.
"Fuck," he grumbled, throwing his head back in frustration.
He didn't exactly know if he had time to write it all over again, but he was going to. He knew if anyone ever saw how insecure and neurotic he actually was, he'd be laughed out of the wrestling business. Lucy must care, if she hadn't weaponized it yet. She knew better than almost anyone else.
Dear Lucy...
The words didn't sit right with him, so he quickly scribbled over them. The letter wouldn't look pretty, but it would get done.
And yet, he couldn't find the words. It felt like an eternity, as he knew he had to write something. He had a deadline, and it was fast approaching. There would be consequences if he didn't make that deadline. But he stood frozen, staring at the sheet of paper as though it were he were seeing paper for the first time.
It was likely a comedic sight for those who never felt writer's block before. It was all the more frustrating that he had written this already. How could have have forgotten already?
Luce -
I know things have been hard in the last couple of months. I'm sorry. I still feel really bad doing what I did, even though we both know it had to be done.
Truth be told, I miss you.
He lowered the pen again, getting ready to scribble that out and start over as well. It wasn't like he couldn't grab more paper.
"No," he told himself. "Stop second guessing. Just do it."
As he continued to write and tap into what exactly he felt, it became easier.
I haven't ever told anyone this, maybe not even you, but I'd give this business up in a minute if you asked. I know you wouldn't. You wouldn't dare. But I would.
And maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe that's what everyone saw when they saw us together. Maybe they were just jealous of an actual relationship, that still kept on in spite of all the shit we put it through. Or that I put it through.
A noise erupted from outside, likely something relatively harmless but it caused his head to dart up just the same. He couldn't tell if he would be elated or embarrassed to have Lucy find him here. The only thing he liked about this entire situation was the motivation it was giving him to push himself to success, and the nights he found himself sleeping along made him question if that was really worth it.
After determining the noise was definitely outside, and not right outside the door, he continued.
I don't deserve you. I never did. And I'm going to say and do things that I'll continue to regret, even though both know why and know they have to be done.
I just wanted you to know that I love you. And I'm sorry. I hope that however things pan out, it ends exactly like it's supposed to.
It'll be over soon.
- Joe
He once again found himself staring at the paper, studying it. He gave it the same time and consideration an artist may stare at a painting before wondering if it needed something else. That was when his inner troll came out.
His lips drew upward into a smirk and he wrote out a small little afterword for the note.
PS: I'm now 2-1 over you. ;)
He was sure he was going to get hit a little extra hard on Monday for that, but he didn't care. He wouldn't be who he was if he didn't needle the situation a little bit. It was hardly the least offensive thing he'd done to her lately.
She might actually find it funny, in spite of herself.
He folded the paper up, now with a properly-written message, put her name on the outside and then placed it in plain sight, right on the coffee table.
As he went to leave, he looked around the place, emitted a third sigh, and stepped out, locking the door behind him.
It was Monday morning and he was currently trying to find himself a seat on a socially distanced plane. Everyone wore masks, and every other seat was empty. He had spent his weekend visiting his daughter and then getting himself stretched in a match taped for Carnage Wrestling.
That match would air at the same time as Synergy, but he wouldn't be backstage to see the reactions of a younger roster. He didn't particularly care. He was proud of the match and effort he put in, even if his body screamed at him from multiple areas at once this morning.
He finally found his seat, right next to the aisle, and sat down. All he had with him was his ring gear in a small case, and he decided to check that instead of try to shove it in the overhead compartment. His shoulders felt heavy and ached, along with his neck.
Nevermind the ankle that throbbed every time he took a step.
Perhaps wrestling a submission match ahead of a #1 contenders match wasn't the smartest decision, but JC had plenty of time between his arrival and the match to rest and ice up.
A younger man squeezed past him and shuffled into the seats across the aisle. His mask wasn't covering his nose and once he noticed Joe noticing, he quickly pulled it up.
Idiot, he thought to himself.
Joe scrolled through Twitter on his phone, hoping to see if anyone said anything worth trolling over prior to takeoff. He didn't, so instead he turned it off and shoved it into his pocket. He looked back to the young man and noticed he was being stared at.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Hey, you're that guy, right?"
"I'm a guy," he shot back, trying not to let on that he had no interest in talking. A smarter person would have heard the venom in his voice.
"Nah, I mean," the other guy said, adjusting his position to face him better. "You're JC."
"That I am. I don't do autographs when I'm just trying to relax, bud."
He leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes, hoping this guy would get the point. But he continued talking, and so one of JC's eyes opened up and then the other.
It was going to be one of those flights.
"No thanks," his fellow passenger answered. "I mean, maybe a few months ago I would have wanted one, but you kind of suck now. Especially after what you did to Lucy."
"Always nice to meet a fan."
He closed his eyes again, hoping that this guy just wanted to insult him and be done with it. About five minutes passed and it truly seemed like that would be it.
Just as Joe was about to congratulate himself on not flying off the handle at some nobody on a plane, he heard that distinct Northeastern voice again.
"Why'd you do it?"
"Hmm?"
He opened his eyes again, realizing he had actually started to doze a little.
"Why'd you go after Lucy," the younger man replied. "Why really?"
"Do you really want to know or are you just looking for an opening to insult me again?"
The overhead light let them know it was time to fasten their seatbelts. He had already done so when he sat down, but this other guy was practically spilling into the other seat to talk to him and definitely hadn't secured himself. He didn't even notice the light.
"I really want to know," he continued. "Me and my kid brother, we..."
His voice trailed off, like he was about to admit something he didn't really want to.
"We grew up watching you. My first wrestling tape was of your BTW stuff, when you were Joe Cool. I was like, six, then."
Joe turned towards him as much as he could, suddenly interested in hearing what he had to say. It wasn't an ego thing, not entirely, but if someone who grew up with him suddenly didn't like him, he had to hear him out.
"And this is what turned you against me?"
"I mean, I didn't catch much of your OWF stuff until later, after you had explained why you did what you did. I didn't like it but...at least you had a reason, you know?"
Joe nodded. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.
"But this...all those internet sites, like 410wrestling.com, said you were on meds and better now."
"Don't believe everything you read in the dirtsheets, kid."
"So you're not?"
This line of questioning was getting a little personal, and he wondered how in the hell some random wrestling reporter could possibly know about his mental health.
He breathed out slowly.
"I am doing just fine."
"But...see that's it then. If you're doing okay upstairs...then you did what you did to Lucy because you're an asshole."
A snarky remark creeped into his head but he ignored it.
The flight began to take off and after nearly falling out of his seat, the fan quickly secured his seatbelt.
"A lot of people have said that too," he told him.
"Yeah, and they're right. You two...like there's a whole subreddit devoted to pics of you guys. Some really hardcore fans said they 'ship' you! And then you went and did that!"
Joe started to feel really bad. It was one thing that the issue was between himself and Lucy was as messy as it was, but to learn that people other than his clueless colleagues were turning on him hurt a little. He always liked to say that he was who he was, and thanked whoever supported him for it. He was an asshole, but a loveable one. Except now it seemed the loveable part wasn't there anymore.
"I don't know what to say."
"Forget it," the fan spat out. "You've changed. And I dunno, you kinda ruined my childhood. Like, my kid brother's too. He was saving up for wrestling school and now he's not even sure he wants to. Because people like you are in the business."
That last bit stung. The fan turned back around and faced the seat in front, seemingly having said his piece.
Joe did the same. He didn't expect to be hurt emotionally this weekend as well as physically, but the comment was getting to him.
There were two options. He could stick to wearing the mask of someone who didn't care, and let this fan go on hating him. It was one or two fans. Big deal. But he knew, somewhere inside, that he couldn't do that.
"Listen," he started.
The fan turned there head toward him, their anger visible. They worked themselves up. Joe found himself on the spiteful end of a fandom and decided he didn't like it.
"I'm sorry that what I did ruined things for you. But...well, shit, you need to just watch Synergy."
He sighed. He didn't want to exactly drop any big news or anything, but he had plans for Synergy and those plans would settle a lot of the issues surrounding him.
"Why?"
"Trust me. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. Not just because I'm going to win, either."
"What are you going to do?"
"Just watch. And don't lose your faith in me just yet. I promise you won't regret it."
He didn't know how long the camera had been rolling, because he hadn't paid attention. He sat in a chair inside a very cramped location. He wanted to get away from absolutely everyone at Synergy, including the Creeps that had a way of sneaking up where they weren't wanted.
Alliance or not, he had no use for Tempest right now and didn't want to put up with him. There would be plenty of time for that later. He was thankful that that group at least gave him his own space. He didn't subscribe to their hive mind. Being his own person was just something they'd have to deal with.
He founds himself as far back in the arena as he could, sitting up inside a currently empty production truck. The only light was provided by the parking lot outside, which was just enough for him to capture video. It was all he really needed. He had a lot to say.
You know, I had some big speech all ready to go in my head when I got to Chicago and had a chance to film, but I've decided to throw all of that out. Circumstances being what they are, this match is too important for me to shrug off and play pro wrestler. So you won't be hearing from JC, a hated character in UGWC and a member of Tempest's creeps, or whatever-the-fuck.
No, I want you to hear from Joe, the man. Maybe I'll be the laughing stock on Twitter after tonight when I've bared my soul and walked out of it empty-handed. But it's time I dropped all the fucking pretense and spoke the truth. My truth, whatever that means to you.
JC breathed in for a moment and shut his eyes. His chest heaved as he attempted to calm himself. He had been on edge all day, especially after that flight. Perhaps this wasn't the best time to be so honest, or maybe it was the perfect time.
He had grown absolutely sick of being judged for one single act in his life, when he was the only one who currently knew all of the details.
A lot of what people have been saying about me is true. I was in Lucy's shadow. I am not as good as I used to be. I do talk a lot of shit online only to sometimes not be able to back it up. It's not easy for me to admit these things, because I'm stubborn.
I'm not like the rest of you. The rest of you see this as some hobby. This is nothing to you. Well, that's not how it is with me. This is my life. This is what I've always wanted to do. Do you have a single clue what it's like to look into your future and see something you've loved your entire life is going to end soon? I'd say you don't. But I have.
As if on cue, he felt a stinging pain in his neck, something that was all too common these days. He resisted the urge to rub it while talking. He didn't need to be that honest.
So yeah, I attacked Lucy. I complained that she was holding me back. I aligned myself with Tempest. Do I particularly like the bed I've made? No. I didn't want to hurt Lucy. I didn't want to kick her in the head. But it had to be done. There was no other way for me to accomplish the things I'm hoping to accomplish without doing what I did.
And look where it got me. Outlast finalist. Destroyed the world champion from another promotion. Pinned both Adelaide Ainsworth and Lucy. I went to Outlast and beat three people in one night.
"But you didn't win, JC."
As he uttered those other words, he changed the tone of his voice to match that of Johnny Bonecrusher, an absolutely useless man still riding on the success of someone else. Another person who didn't know him.
He decided not to make the appropriate mocking face to go with it, because he thought his vocal impression was spot on. If anything, he could have made it more nasally to really play up the caricature.
Didn't I?
I came out of Outlast with my head held high, because I regained a little of the pride I had beaten out of me by letting the pretentious cliques of UGWC get in my head. I showed the world that JC is still a force to be reckoned with. I moved closer to that World title than I've ever been.
As a friend of mine so eloquently put it...even when I lose, I win.
And now I've been rewarded for my hard work. One match is all that stands between me and the main event of Battleground. One match. One shot. One opportunity, if you'll pardon the Eminem reference.
All I have to do is beat three people in one night.
Doesn't seem so impossible now, does it?
He smiled warmly at the people watching him right now. They couldn't really argue against what he said. Not only did he just have to repeat something he already did, but now he would be significantly more rested to do so.
Alex Kiseragi wouldn't kick him while he was tired from all the work he previously put in.
I see shadows of myself, of things I could be, in all three of them. Alex Kiseragi, someone who is seemingly resting on his laurels after being a big deal almost a decade ago. The very thing I've been accused of doing by many people here and elsewhere.
I'd poke fun at his nickname but I've got no room to talk. Besides, you're the one that eliminated me at Outlast. With a kick to the head too, of all things. Is that ironic? I have no idea. Maybe poetic justice is the right phrase to coin, if you believe in that sort of thing.
Under ordinary circumstances, I might get mad at that. Might say that I'm focused entirely on you. But that would be stupid. We have two other opponents. Unlike some in this match, I've got to keep my head on a swivel. If I were to try to avenge some wrong, I might find myself getting embarrassed again.
His thoughts drifted to Massive Melee, to Wrestlestock, when he let his focus waver and paid for it.
He shook his head and continued.
I will say this. Your reputation and accolades are one thing, but now that I've actually fought you, that kick hurts. I do not want to get hit with it again. Maybe I've been studying tape to avoid it. Maybe I'm just going to hit you so hard you don't have a chance to hit me back. Maybe I'll just break your legs. I'm not sure yet. But I will not...cannot...let you stop me.
This match also has Dave Rydell. I've teamed with Dave twice and if I were looking for a match for the co-op titles, I might just recruit Dave. But I'm not and I don't think he is either. In a way, he and I are cut from the same cloth. Similar styles, similar interests and one singular goal. We both want that World title. He's been here longer than I have and he's barely had a chance to sniff it, let alone wear it.
Outlast had, in fact, been his first and so far only chance at the UGWC World Championship. For that matter, he hadn't had any title shots until this year.
Rydell was a different shadow entirely. He was one of the awful possibilities that could be.
Dave, I'm not going to mince words here. It's a hard truth that maybe your time is done. I know, pot calling the kettle black, right? But while I've been, until recently, floundering in UGWC for mere months, you've been doing it for years. Others might call you a joke, I just call you someone in over your head and too stubborn to admit it.
There's not a wrestler in this business that hasn't been in that position at one time or another. But most of us have the good sense to make a change to avoid getting trapped there. You never did. You just keep going through the motions, month after month, year after year, hoping eventually you might finally reach the mountaintop.
You're like the Ghost of Christmas Future. A vision of what I could be if I don't make this shot count. I won't be like you. I won't be like Kiseragi and ride the coattails of past success. And I won't be like Lucy Wylde, either.
He lowered his head for a minute to try to compose himself. He kept himself grounded. Felt the floor beneath his feet. Focused on the air around him. A brief period of meditation to make sure that he didn't let his emotions get the better of him.
Lucy, for one reason or another was a touchy subject right now.
Thoughts of whether or not she got his note entered his head and he pushed them out as quickly as they arrived.
Hi, Luce.
I bet you expect me to mock you, right? I should. We all know you deserve it. Came here and won Wrestlestock, threw away your title shot, been losing ever since. I should laugh at that. I should point out the karma. And maybe on a worse day I would, but I'm feeling generous.
I'm feeling generous enough to save you from further embarrassment, that is. The world doesn't need to see Lucy Johnson tarnish her legacy by getting another chance at the big stage and fail again. We don't need to see you build yourself up, try to play nice and get nothing to show for it. And even if by some disaster I don't win this match, I know you won't.
You're distracted. You're distracted by me. We've come full circle, Lucy. You went from trying to steal the spotlight for yourself to being pushed back into my shadow. As I gain momentum and move closer to finally achieving my dream, you get hit with defeat after defeat after defeat. It's a real Dorian Gray situation. My career looks brighter and greater, while yours wastes away to nothing.
And you've got no one to blame but yourself.
He forced himself to smile, knowing that pointing out her tendency to self-blame would sting. Lucy always thought the worst of herself. She would put up a brave front when delivering her own promo, and she'd no doubt come at him with everything she had.
But all he needed to do was pick at that wound just enough to get the self-doubt going. When Lucy doubted herself, Lucy Johnson tended to fall apart.
The game was a psychological as it was physical, and he always surprised himself at his willingness to play mind games. He was usually more surprised that his intended targets never caught on until it was too late.
Three people in one night. I've done it before, and in order to finally get what I want, I have to do it again. I'll be honest, there's a part of me that lives for nights like tonight. But I have to set that aside. I have to set aside how much fun I'll have competing. I have to ignore whatever little petty grudges I have or respect people have earned. None of that matters.
The rest of you may be satisfied with being simple cogs in the machine, but I'm not. I'm done spinning my wheels and waiting for something to happen. This is everything I've ever wanted to be, and I'm not letting a single fucking one of you keep me from it. If you are in my way, I hope whatever god you believe in grants you mercy.
He leaned in, putting his hand on the camera. He planned on turning it off, but he had a few more sentences he wanted to say first. Something to really express how much winning this match would mean to him.
A noise from the crew outside caught his attention, but he ignored it. He was almost done. They could have their truck back when he was finished and not a second sooner.
I won't. Not tonight. Especially not tonight.
Kiseragi may want it. Rydell may crave it. Lucy may need it.
But I cannot exist without it.
And it will be mine.
