“Heaven ain't close in a place like this..."
Joe stormed out of the warehouse that housed his now former employer, fuming. He saw the way things had been going there and while he didn’t like it, he accepted it. Changes come, as some washed up has-been had once said. But those changes benefitted a few and forced several changes to the very DNA of the company. Former champions were taking an ‘extended hiatus’ or leaving altogether.
He hardly felt as though it was right, that so many longtime employees who had given their blood, sweat and tears to this company had been cast aside, in favor of whatever the vision was going to be now. He didn’t really know and if he were being honest, in the moment he didn’t care.
There had been a meeting with the man in charge of running the asylum disguised as a warehouse. Even with his special contract, he found he couldn’t force his way onto the card. And the fact he was being left off was ridiculous. It was insulting. He had been cleared to compete, so there was also no cause for it. He was just the latest to be targeted for a dystopian company with the façade of a utopia.
He reached down in the parking lot and grabbed a chunk of brick, squeezing it in his palm. It had a jagged point or two and he could feel them pressing into his skin. It calmed the anger. It held the nagging sense of betrayal at bay.
The fact of the matter was, he was willing to concede a few things.
He was willing to open the show. He was willing to face no one of any importance. He was willing to face a friend or a rival. It wasn’t as if he were asking for a title rematch. He knew he was at the back of the line and he knew he could get a chance again. Besides, the world title belonged in the main event and anything else in that spot was a joke.
The issue was that he simply wanted to be included.
He asked for a match with Mac Bane and was denied. Amber Ryan wasn’t cleared to compete. His best friend, Trent Steel, was occupied.
He even asked for Matt Knox, someone he didn’t particularly like but could at least tolerate to have a friendly match. Knox, apparently, had left the dirty old warehouse to greener pastures some time ago. Quietly, without incident, and yet there had been some animosity in the delivery of the news.
“People leave,” his former employer told him. “The best thing you can do now is pretend they don’t exist.”
But they did still exist. They gave that company everything they had and now it seemed what they had given didn’t matter anymore. ‘The Answer’ JC even had a hand in keeping the company’s lights on.
He remembered, way back in 2016, when he was asked by the President of the OWF to go to Carnage. “Take Trent with you,” Chase Johnson had said. “Their roster is small and they need some names to draw attention.”
So he took Trent Steel. And he fell in love with the place. Everything about it was against his very ideals. They were violent, they were dirty, the majority of them hated technical wrestling. It was a very ‘blood and guts’ promotion. But it was the independence of it, the anarchic spirit, the revolutionary attitude.
Hours before the meeting, he had been offered a contract of a different sort. UGWC had told him to come work for them, exclusively. That was what led to this meeting. He didn’t want to leave the warehouse. Not really. So he tried to explain things.
“UGWC is offering me quite a bit of money,” he had said. “They want me to be exclusive, or at least full-time. All you have to do is book me for the show and I’ll turn them down. Just let me wrestle. Let me do what I do best.”
“There’s nothing I can do,” his former boss replied. “Maybe you should take their offer.”
JC stayed with that company for four years. He bled orange. He put his own mental health at risk to defend it from threats within and without. He nearly lost an eye for it. He nearly crippled himself for it.
And now he wasn’t worth the paper his contract was printed on. He wasn’t worth a spot on the biggest show of the year. The company he loved didn’t love him back.
So he ripped up his contract in front of his boss and stormed out, letting him know that he was lucky ‘The Answer’ didn’t take a piece of him as a souvenir.
He would have given anything to that company, and now he could barely bring himself to think of its name. He was now full-time with UGWC and he would tell everyone he didn’t regret it, even though he would be lying.
Joe squeezed harder, and he felt a corner prick his palm. It would be sore later. He would deal with the consequences then.
A moment of clarity came upon him. Knox. Why did Knox leave? Was he forced out too?
Joe walked, calmly, to his truck and climbed inside. He tossed the brick out of the window and glanced at his hand. A small pinprick with the faintest amount of blood stared back at him. He wiped it on the leg of his pants and grabbed his cell phone.
He wondered if he even remembered the number given to him after the time Knox visited him in the hospital. The only one from this company who had, if he had remembered correctly.
He found the number in his contacts, likely entered while under the influence of painkillers, and pressed CALL.
“This is Knox” came the usual monotone that had the ability to annoy if not infuriate so many people. Albeit, usually with plenty of reason.
“I know who you are,” JC started. “What I want to know is...why the fuck was I told you quit the company?”
He asked this, of course, without a hint of irony that he too had just quit. He was met with a beat of silence, and then a heavy sigh. The voice on the other end took on a labored tone as it formed it’s next sentence.
“Joe, I’m flattered but I never thought we were so close you’d call to motherfuck me for leaving, too.”
“We’re not,” he spat. “As it turns out, I’m no longer employed here either. As it turns out, I’m worth more to a worldwide company than I am a regional warehouse. Fancy that. I suggested a match between us, just to get myself booked, and was told you flew the coop.”
The bird pun was very intentional.
“Considering you were willing to burn down UGWC over this place, I want to know why you left.”
“Because Joe, you can’t make a home in a viper’s nest.” he replied before Joe’s ear filled with that annoying sound of a heavy exhale into the receiver, “There were incidents, since Chaos 98 that were never resolved. And the constant war with C$J? Took its toll on me. I beat the shithead bloody, broke his fingers. Didn’t do a thing. He’s running people out left and right. Hell, go back in there and ask where the new Chaos Champion is.”
A brief pause, a clearing of the throat, and he continued.
“I’m not at the point in my career where I can rail against the establishment. Especially when the people I thought I was fighting for, and with were just fighting for themselves.”
This time it was Joe’s turn to sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck ,feeling a tension headache coming on. The day had worn him down, yet another on a long career. It was times like these that made the moments he loved feel fleeting.
“I know the feeling.”
He let the words hang for a moment, then continued.
“But I shouldn’t go back in there again. I have a fiancée at home and I’d rather she not get a call about me being in jail tonight.”
“Makes sense. So what, you’re going to UGWC full time and exclusive, or were you looking for another weekend job?” That was intentional on Knox’s part, this time.
Joe laughed.
“If you saw the money they offered me to be full-time, you’d understand. UGWC acknowledges my value, even if I did burn a man alive over there.”
He considered his next choice of words for a moment.
“As for exclusive...that’s negotiable. I’ve…”
He glanced at his hand for a moment, then sighed again.
“I’ve spilled my last drop of blood for this place.”
His words were met with a contemplative silence. In his hotel room in Nevada, Knox stared out the window and down to the Casino where he would make his debut later in the week. A smirk cracked his features. His relationship with JC was an odd one. He didn’t exactly like him, but he didn’t hate him. Above all, there was respect. Two round pegs absolutely defiling square, triangle, oblong holes. This was their world, and they’d fit wherever the hell they said they would.
However, once in a while. The peg matched up.
“There’s a place in Reno. It’s small, like Carnage. The guy running it though? One of us. Old school. Pretty sure we’ve both fought him too..” he trailed off into a pause, before chuckling and going for a pun, “Brad Jackson has started an Uprising, you see.”
“Brad fucking Jackson,” Joe mused. A guy who had been on his wishlist for some time, but that was never meant to be. And perhaps, someone who knew what it was like to have his time in this place swept under a rug.
“Fought him once in a battle royal,” he continued. “Unfortunately that was it. He’s got a company, huh?”
“Yep. Like I said it’s small, but there’s some recognizable names. Luther, Don Tirri, Matt Stone….who I have taken a particular disliking to…” he went silent, maybe taking a moment to try and remember who he had ever taken a liking to this year, “It’s solid and it’s ran by someone who’s cut from our cloth. No pretentious rich bullshit. Hell, we drank scotch when I signed the contract.”
Joe chuckled to himself. He couldn’t recall ever actually having a conversation with Jackson. Or a friendly one with Knox, if he was being honest. Perhaps it was time for things to change. A change in alignment. A chance in alliances. A change of scenery.
But one question nagged at him in the back of his mind.
“I can’t keep giving to places that don’t want me around. And Reno is a far fucking flight from New York. I’ve got more priorities now than just my career, so what assurance do I have that I’m not going to get laughed out of the office if I show up offering my services?”
“They had a drink with a washed up drug addict who was batting just over .500. They’ll be ecstatic signing someone with more title wins than original pieces of their neck.” Knox quipped in good nature.
Joe smirked to himself.
“Alright, text me his digits. I guess I’ll head back and give Lucy the news.”
He almost hung up, but before he did, he had one last thing to say.
“And Knox? Don’t think we’re friends now. I don’t want you getting soft before we end up facing each other again.”
“And here I was browsing friendship bracelets on Wish.” Came the snarky reply. “I’ll shoot that over to you right now. Merry Christmas, Joseph.”
The conversation ended and so Joe ended the call. He set the phone down on the passenger side and placed his hands upon the steering wheel. As he reached to turn the ignition, he heard the phone vibrate against the seat.
He smirked again and threw the vehicle into drive.
