Post by Madman on Jan 4, 2014 15:18:06 GMT -5
Monday.December.16th.2013
Key.Arena.Seattle.Washington.
11:00.PM.PST
I marched down the arena's corridors in a fit of rage, fuming from the loss I had just suffered at the hands of Aubrey J. Parker, again. It was becoming a bit of a repetitive theme which for me, was very unsettling. Throughout my career there were only two competitors who truly just had my number, AJP could be a third.
My younger brother shadowed my every step, just a couple feet behind, walking through my path of destruction. Stagehands watched cautiously as I unwrapped my hands, avoiding eye contact any possible way. Every thirty feet I would knock over an equipment case or flip a foldable table sending catered spreads to spill across the cold concrete floors. I made it to my locker room door and let out a roar that seemed more suitable for the Serengeti than the backstage area of a wrestling show. I cocked my right hand back and launched it clean through the wooden door, creating a fist sized peephole.
Nick tip toed behind me and followed me into the locker room. He searched for some words of encouragement. Although heartfelt, the timing just wasn't right. "It's okay Chris, you can rebound from this..."
I snapped my head up as I sat on a steel folding chair positioned in the far corner of the room. My gym bag was open between my feet, allowing me to drop garment after garment as I undressed. "Rebound? That's two for two...right now she's got credit for both blemishes on my record in PURE. Not so easy when you put it into perspective."
"Well..." He paused for a moment, feeling like he was walking on eggshells at the moment, dancing around any remarks that may just send me off the deep end. "You'll hit the tapes, do some scouting, and find a way to beat thats bitch!"
"That bitch..." I rose to my feet, dressed down to nothing but a navy blue pair of under armor boxer briefs, "...happens to be one of the best in the world. As much as I hate her, I can't ignore the facts. She's good at her craft."
Before Nick could muster up any sort of response there was a faint, feeble knock at the door. He knew I wasn't in the right frame of mind to be dealing with any outsiders so he took it upon himself to see who was calling. Before opening the door he peered through the six inch hole in the door but could only see a black shirt. Nick opened the door and I could hear was whispers between two men. I looked over but couldn't see who was there, Nick had only opened the door a crack. I could tell something was going on. Nick looked over his shoulder towards me with every break in the conversation.
"What is it", I shouted out. A big part of me was dreading the news. I watched as Nick walked back into the room with one the arena's security guards standing by his side. Both of the heads cowered down. "Well..."
They turned their heads towards one another as if they were having a telepathic argument over who was going to break the bad news. You could see the anxiety taking over. Finally the security guard stepped forward. "There was a problem in the parking lot", his voice squealed. "Your car was vandalized."
"You better be fucking kidding..." I caught myself before exploding all over the security guard. I wanted to mash his face into something that could be confused as a Picasso painting. He had enough problems of his own though, guarding a door for a couple hundred bucks just to make ends meet. His existence in life was nothing to be envied. I released my balled up fist and took a few deep breaths. "Give me a second and I'll be right out."
They stood there with their mouths wide open as if they had just witnessed some inexplicable miracle. You would have thought they were in the room as god impregnated the Virgin Mary. Was it that amazing that didn't flip my lid? Was I that much of a loose cannon?
"Umm, okay", the guard mumbled before stepping out of the locker room to wait.
I stepped through the legs of a pair of black nylon Adidas pants with the trademark three white stripes running down the sides of the legs. Each hand had a good grasp of the elastic waist that I effortlessly pulled up, snug against my hips. "What's the catch", Nick interrogated while tossing me an APW Black Hand T-Shirt.
"No catch…" I snaked my upper body through the shirt, popping my head out to see Nick's puzzled look. Countless occasions he had felt the brunt of my tirades. I guess for him it was a nice change of pace.
I collected the rest of my equipment that was scattered throughout the room and placed them into my duffel bag. I bundled up for the blistering cold winters air which was awaiting me like a group of thugs hidden in the dark shadows of an alley. We made it to the exit which the security guard was posted at. He placed his large ape-like hand on the door and pushed it open.
"I guess this is where your post ends? Nothing passed that door huh?" My sarcasm didn't go over well. The big oaf just lowered his head in shame as my brother and I exited to survey the damage.
Yep. There it was. My blacked out Cadillac Escalade was sitting on cinderblocks, every last piece of glass was smashed out, and a solid stripe of red spray paint went fully around the vehicle. I could see it in Nick's face, this was the point he thought I would fully implode. I'll show him. I took a few deep breaths and continued my way to the shell of what once was a luxury SUV. I scratched at the stubble on my chin and bit down on my lower lip. There was a white piece of paper sticking out of the driver side door.
Had the culprit left me a note? Interesting turn of events. I reached out and plucked the piece of notebook paper while dropping my gym big to the asphalt. After glancing it over my eyes shifted to Nick, hinting towards the contents of the writings. The unsettling glare set free the all of those nervous butterflies that dance around the pit of his stomach.
"Whats it say?" He reached out and pulled the note from my grasp. He began to read it aloud. "No one is out of reach. I'm still owed money. Meet me at the Steelhead Diner on Pine and Post tomorrow at four. Angelo."
Nick crumpled the note in his hand and spiked it to the ground. I could tell he was frustrated. No matter how many times we try to right the ugly ship that is his gambling addiction, it rears its ugly head. Not even ten days have passed since his quote unquote accident. Angelo is the man behind all of it, and tomorrow we'll finally get to rid this cancer from our lives. I placed my arm around Nick's shoulders and reassured him, "it's not a big deal Nick. Tomorrow we end this!"
He nodded while fighting back his own frustrated outburst.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
"For the second time in as many matches against one another, Aubrey J. Parker forced me to decide between tapping and fighting another day or push through and risk everything I have worked so hard for. To me it's an easy decision. Especially with Crisis around the corner. You have to put the big prize into perspective. The PURE Heavyweight Championship, a prize that I'm not willing to just let slip away because of a bullshit knee injury."
"At Crisis four of us march down to that ring all with the same goal, the same aspiration. To be crowned the first PURE Heavyweight Champion. Sure, this is where I am supposed to bad mouth my opponents, point out all their flaws, and plead my case to the PURE faithful. That's what everyone has done for ages. Chris Madison doesn't plead for anything. Some people in this industry make a living on their knees, I'm not one of them! So let me throw everyone a curveball….I'm breaking the up the format…I'm not going sit here and bash three individuals who have earned a chance to be the best PURE has to offer. Instead I will praise all of them!"
"All three of my opponents, are deserving of this championship!"
"Yeah, mind blowing I know. But Joe Martinez, Aubrey J. Parker, and Anthony Bailey all belong in this match and have legitimate claims for the title."
"Anthony Bailey has built his name off his partnership with Jair Hopkins, The Dying Breed. But he's far more than one of the greatest tag team wrestlers in the industry today. It's kind of a travesty that people don't give this guy the kind of credit he deserves! Anthony Bailey reminds me of one of those prospects that baseball scouts clamor over. He's a five tool kind of guy. Inside that ring he can do anything, and he does it all well. It's hard to pinpoint a weak spot in his game. You don't get dubbed the promise without showing that there's potential for being the future of this industry!"
"He's been the top guy before. He knows what it takes to climb that ladder of success and look down at every single competitor he used as a rung. The fans would be lucky to have this guy represent the company and to be the face of PURE Wrestling. Bailey is the kind of guy who's going to go out there show after show and proudly represent this company. He's the kind of guy that will draw investors, and help skyrocket PURE Wrestling to the upper echelon of wrestling promotions, and he'd do it with a smile on his face!"
"Put aside the lackluster start he had here. Bailey is as hot as they come right now, winning the last chance battle royal to earn his spot in this match. Getting a big win with AJP as his partner over Joe Martinez and myself. The momentum is in his favor, and that's scary for a guy who's got such god given talent in the ring. He's a diamond in this industry, and at only twenty three years of age. Slap that title around his waist, sit back, and watch as he soars to new heights. Something that Michael Callahan and Johnny Rebel know all too well. Both failed to dethrone Bailey of the APW World Heavyweight Championship back in October of two thousand and twelve. They've seen him at his best. I'm sure as far as they're concerned, Anthony Bailey, is THE guy!"
"Then there's the relatively unknown, Average, Joe Martinez…"
"…My partner this past week. Up until our tag match he had a perfect record. Kind of ironic for a guy who looks like the furthest thing from a perfect champion. But as the old saying goes, never a judge a book by it's cover."
"But let's take a closer look at big Joe Martinez! Since he stepped inside a PURE Wrestling ring he has been a runaway locomotive! Some would argue that if it wasn't for my own short comings, he'd still be undefeated inside a PURE Wrestling ring. I'd agree. I'm the one who lost the match. Joe did everything he could to win us the match. But it was me who tapped out to Aubrey J. Parker, again…"
"Joe's a strange talent. He's a guy that people easily can get behind. I know the term gets thrown around too loosely now a days, but he's a true champion of the people. They relate to him. In their minds he is one of them. His physique is far from the prototypical body builder that management loves to parade down to the ring, but once you get passed that, there's an elite wrestler buried deep down within."
"Now I'm sure Joe has some unfavorable things to say about me. I couldn't have gotten to where I am in my career if I allowed myself to be effected by what others have to say. If he wants to turn this into a war of words, shame on him for taking his eye off the prize. Just like everyone else in this match, I wouldn't be surprised if Joe Martinez was walking home fifteen pounds heavier after Crisis. Especially now that this match has been officially announced that it's going to be a no disqualification, falls count anywhere. Perfect for the burly brawler…Outweighing all of his opponent by almost one hundred pounds. If Joe was smart, he'd throw that extra weight around and shock the world!"
"And finally, pro wrestling's darling princess, the unstoppable force, the wrestling juggernaut, Aubrey J. Parker."
"You're the heavy favorite to win this thing. You have been since day one. Aubrey J. Parker has been on a roll that's unparalleled in the wrestling world. And it all started when you dethroned Terry Marvin of his APW Undisputed Championship. Terry Marvin is the kind of name in this profession that holds weight, no matter what company your in, no matter what hallways you're walking through, Terry Marvin has left a lasting impression on this business, and Aubrey J. Parker is the one who drove him to retirement! That in itself is a big enough accomplishment to hang your hat on. A legacy can be built on lone accolade. But you're not satisfied yet and you ride that momentum into every match, pushing your opponents arounds as if you were some super heavyweight trapped inside the petite body of a super model. It seems illogical for a girl of your stature to be an elite force. I said illogical, not impossible..."
"When does it become enough? Never. It's never going to be enough because you're a competitor. Behind the make up and girlish figure is as fierce of a competitor as there is in the wrestling world. You wouldn't have enjoyed the success you have in this business had it not been for that drive. In my spec of time in the wrestling world there are only two men who have always seemed to have my number; Brad Jackson and Spiral. AJP is on the verge of being added to that list. You're the sole reason for any blemish on my record in PURE Wrestling. Two matches, two submission victories, complete dominance…Dominance that stems from your desire to be the best in the world."
"So how do you rebound from that?"
"Simple..."
"Just keep busting my ass! You see I've never claimed to be an elitist. Everyone thinks because I know a few fancy submissions that I consider myself untouchable. That couldn't be further from the truth. I don't see myself as unbeatable, but what I am is one of the hardest working men inside that squared circle. I dare you to dispute it…Week after week I give it my all. I go to the ring like a good soldier and give those fans a performance worth the price of admission. I don't need championships anymore in my career. I've been there and done that. I'm simply here because I have an addiction. I'm addicted to the thrill of competition. Thankfully, Callahan and Rebel have generously given me a home where I can get my fix. Whether it's AJP, Joe Martinez, Anthony Bailey, or Young Mannie…PURE is a place where I can compete with some of the best the business has to offer!"
"Am I going to win at Crisis? I don't know...but you three can rest assured that I'm not going to be an easy out. I'll make you earn that fifteen pound championship belt!"
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Tuesday.December.17th.2013
Steelhead.Diner.Seattle.Washington
4:00.PM.PST
"Ninety five Pine street, here we are."
I reached forward over the cab driver's shoulder with two crisp twenty dollar bills in my hand. "Keep the change", I instructed while sliding out the passenger side of the cab with my baby brother by my side. We stepped out onto the sidewalk in the heart of the Pike Place Market, the cold winds blowing in from the Puget Sound at our backs. Right in front of us was the Steelhead Diner. I pulled out my phone to look at the time on the display screen. It was perfect timing, but the front door of the diner had a "Sorry, we're closed" sign displayed in the window. Odd for a restaurant whose hours of operation are eleven AM to ten PM.
"The note definitely said four, right?" All Nick answered with was a nod of his head. Surprisingly he took the initiative and walked up to the front door. He cupped his hands around his eyes and pressed up against the glass, peering into the diner.
"I think they're open", he shouted while pulling away from the glass front door. He pressed up against it again, taking a closer look. "There's staff walking around. They've got to be open."
"Then lets put this shit behind us!" Nick and I both pushed the door open, causing the small bell that hung above it to ring. Immediately all the attention was on us. The staff nervously looked on, visibly trembling as we walked in. Angelo had made his presence known to the staff as they feared the possible outcomes of todays events.
In the far corner of the restaurant was Angelo and his goons. Angelo sat at a table by himself, sipping on a small porcelain mug filled with a steaming hot coffee. The two closest tables each had four hulking men, his muscle that he never left home with out. We made our way towards the back and were quickly stopped by four of the men. Airport security didn't go through this much trouble looking for weapons and contraband. They patted us down and felt every crevice of our bodies to make sure this meeting was going to go down without a hitch.
Angelo motioned for us to take a seat while never getting up from his chair. The wooden chairs screeched along the floor as we dragged them out far enough for us to accompany Angelo at his table. "I see you got my message", he joked.
I so badly wanted to reach over the table and punch his lights out. We were vastly outnumbered, and the events of our last encounter still resonated with me. It's been exactly three months to the day since our first encounter. Coincidence, I think not. Instantly I had flashbacks of being knocked out by a leather blackjack. I rubbed the back of my head as if the pain resurfaced after a three month hibernation.
"I hope there's no hard feelings about our last meeting Chris. You have to understand that in my business I can't allow anyone to get one over on me. When you showed up five grand short of your brother's debt…a message had to be sent." He was so cynical it was disturbing. I know I've been given the nickname of madman, but Angelo was truly mad. No remorse or feelings, it was just another day in the office for him. He took another sip from his cup of joe and then neatly patted at the corners of his mouth with a white napkin. "First I'd like to say I'm glad Nick escaped that accident practically unscathed..."
"BULLSHIT", I screamed while placing my hands on the table and pushing myself up.
My sudden outburst alerted the eight other men who jumped from their seats. Angelo rose to his feet and reassured the men to sit back down at their tables. Before sitting down Angelo removed his black pinstriped Armani suit jacket and handed it to one of the men. "You don't think I had something to do with his accident do you?"
I think my facial expressions was enough of an answer for him. But just incase it flew over his greased up head I reiterated my theory, "No, I know you had something to do with it. Like you said, in your business, a message needs to be sent."
Angelo chuckled, "That's cute". The rest of his neanderthal cronies laughed along with him. "Right now, you're brother is worth more to me alive."
"Then why try to kill him", I asked, not budging from my position. Angelo wasn't amused by unwillingness to believe his hands were clean of Nick's accident.
He pushed down on the table and inched close, bringing us nose to nose. "If I wanted that piece of shit dead, he'd be dead! Trust me!" It was as if Nick wasn't even in the diner, let alone sitting directly opposite the crime boss. Angelo surveyed the tense scene and took a step back. He adjusted his red power tie before sitting back down at the table. He pointed to my seat while suggesting, "take a seat. This back and forth bickering isn't going to help the situation at all."
He was right. I had to put my ego aside so that we can work on a solution. Not only for my own sanity, but for the peace of mind for my brother, my whole family. Angelo was clawing at the youngest Madison, and I'm afraid to see how quickly we would all crumble if he was taken from us. "Well let's hear it. You wanted this meeting, how do we pay up on his debt."
I could tell by the smile on his face I wasn't going to like his offer.
"By my calculations, you're little brother is still a hundred large in the hole." You know that old phrase a look is worth a thousand words, the glare I was giving Nick was probably closer to ten thousand words. "Astonishing how much you can lose with a simple wager. I think if it weren't for bad luck, you're brother would have no luck at all!"
My head hurt, the pain was pulsating throughout my brain and the light was starting to hurt my eyes. "One hundred grand…" I shook my head in disbelief that someone could dig a hole that large. No wonder they tried to kill him. They must have thought the money was as good as gone. "How the hell are we supposed to make up a hundred grand?"
"It's actually pretty easy…" All the possible ideas were running rampant through my mind. He needed more muscle. Nick was going to have to turn to a life of crime until his debt was paid. He's going to ask us to whack someone. All the possibilities seemed to be on the tip of his tongue as I watched his mouth open. All of them except the actual offer itself. "You lose..."
Enter a state of mass confusion. Nick and I looked at one another, not grasping what he was proposing. "I'm sorry did you say I lose?"
Angelo quickly explained while the confusion settled in, "Yeah. You're the hometown hero and sporting events are one of my biggest money maker. You throw this championship match you have in January. Lose on purpose and I'll clean up on all the degenerates like your brother who can't help themselves from gambling away their life savings. My profit will easily make up the hundred large your brother owes me. I'd be more than inclined to wipe the slate clean…"
"So you want me to throw a championship match…" Angelo nodded his head while I sought out some clarity.
"That's all you have to do. Lose the match…" His entourage snickered as I weighed the options in my head. He wanted me to taint the crowning of a PURE Heavyweight Champion by laying down. What meant more to me, being competitive with a chance to become champion or my brothers guaranteed safety.
I found myself repeating those words over and over again, aloud. "Lose the match… Lose the match… Lose the match…"