Post by Rated R on May 9, 2014 14:17:29 GMT -5
“The greatest accomplishment is not in never falling, but in rising again after you fall.”
May 8th 2014
”You have twenty eight new messages. Message one.”
Jason Anders: Turn the car around and come back to the hospital Trace, you’re in no state to be running off like this.
”Message seven.”
Alexa Munroe: I gave you two days since I know what you’re like, but I’m not going to sit around and wait for some call telling me you’ve relapsed or worse. So you lost the title, this family of yours doesn’t care, just call me and let me know you’re okay.
”Message thirteen.”
Emily Hall: Why are you being such an a**hole?
”Message nineteen.”
Caitlyn Lucia: Dude people are freaking out, they think you’ve run off and collapsed in a ditch or something. Let somebody know where you are, I can’t be dealing with your families s**t.
”Message twenty-one.”
Axel Demon: Are you dead? Can I have your stuff?
”Message twenty-eight.”
Lila Sleater: You’ve missed half a dozen meetings already, I knew you were unreliable but if one loss is going to send you off the deep end like this then-
”All messages deleted.”
B***h.
<***>
May 5th 2014
Tempe St. Luke’s Hospital
This isn’t the first time Trace has ended up hurt because of some crazy idea he’s had inside the ring, but it is the first time since I’ve been working for him that he’s ended up in hospital because of it. I wasn’t really sure if he’d want to see anyone, I’m expecting some kind of downward spiral from all this, but his family can’t get out here and someone’s got to check up on him. Shame it’s got to be me though. There’s a lot of shouting as I approach the desk, probably some fat cat’s snuffed it, but then they’re all running off and I hear Trace’s name come up. S**t I hope he’s alright, can’t see me having much job security without him around.
Jason Anders: Hey what’s happening, where can I find Trace-
Nurse: We need more help in here, someone call security!
Security? God, that’s got to be him. What’s he doing this time, how’s he even moving about? I rush off after the nurse, they don’t pay much attention to me among all the commotion, and move effortlessly into the hospital room where I do indeed find the man I’m looking for.
Trace Demon: Anders, thank the new gods, explain to these overly paid morons that I’m leaving and they can’t stop me.
We all choose to ignore that a millionaire, soon to be multi-millionaire according to his accounts, are calling doctors overly paid. The nurses are trying to stop Trace from getting dressed and he… well he’s throwing what equates to be a tantrum. There’s a chair shattered in the corner of the room, I’m guessing that was Trace and not the five foot Asian nurse crying in the corner.
Doctor: Please Mr. Demon, we can’t let you leave, your ribs are nowhere near healed and-
Trace Demon: Am I going to die?
Doctor: Well no, but-
Trace Demon: Then I’m leaving, get… the hell…off of me.
He pushes the doctor away and he goes straight into the wall, I can’t help but cringe a little, it looked like a hard bump. Trace pulls on his last sleeve and I realize I’m the last person standing in his way. If I can stall him then security will turn up and then they can deal with him, well, they can try and deal with him at least.
Jason Anders: Trace-
Trace Demon: not you too, come on if anyone in this room realizes that I’m leaving whether people want me to or not it’s got to be you.
Jason Anders: The doctor’s right Trace, you’re in not fit state to walk out of here.
Trace Demon: You think I care if I’m in a fit state, you think I care about my health? I lost, they took my title, my title is now around the waist of some half-dead, untalented midcarder for life who only won because I was lying half-dead as a result of my own hubris.
Yeah, your hubris, there’s nobody else to blame for this but you. I should tell him that, I should… ah who am I kidding, I like my head on my shoulders and my blood in my veins, neither of which needs to be strewn across the floor any time soon.
Jason Anders: You could always just win it back.
Trace Demon: Win it back, win it back?! Get off of me!
He shoves the doctor and he careens off into the hospital bed with a whole lot of force. That’s going to be a lawsuit. The crying nurse has rushed out and there’s a lot of talking out in the hallway, probably trying to figure out who’s going to be next in the room to try and talk him down or force him back into bed. I can’t see there being a lot of takers.
Trace Demon: I can’t just win it back Anders! I lost, I lost at Superbrawl of all places and to Shawn Malakai of all people. I should have had it in the bag, I deserved to be champion and now I don’t deserve anything, now I’m just the guy who lost the title to a dying man. I’m the guy who can’t retain the title in his own company, at his own companies biggest show. I’m the guy who can’t prove himself to his own damn self and you think I can just win this back? No, I lost, I lost the title and I lost the respect of everyone including myself.
Jason Anders: You’re overreacting.
And not for the first time, he’s such a bloody drama queen.
Trace Demon: You wouldn’t understand, you’re not in my head, you’re not a wrestler, you don’t understand what a loss like this means, you don’t know what that title means. It’s not just a hunk of metal, a piece of gold, a shiny piece of tin, it’s everything. Without it… without it I’m nothing. Don’t call me.
Jason Anders: Aren’t you meant to say “I’ll call you” after that.
Trace Demon: If I did it would be a lie.
He pushes past and heads for the door, I wouldn’t even think of stopping him. His arrogance I can cope with, his psychosis even, but a defeated and broken Trace Demon is not something I have any experience with. He’s right, I can’t fathom how it must feel to go so long without tasting defeat and then to taste it on the biggest night of my career. On the other side of the door, as he emerges out into the hallway, a horde of nurses, doctors and hospital security stand circled.
Trace Demon: If one finger touches me I’ll bite it off with my teeth.
One security guard steps forward, a brave man indeed, but as he meets Trace’s glare he freezes, like a tiny dog staring at a lion.
Trace Demon: Keep your fingers and get out of my way.
A bizarre threat yes, but one that achieves it’s goal, the security guard stepping back and Trace barging past him. I watch him go down the corridor and I can’t help but feel that when I see him again it will not be the Trace Demon I know. And not for the better.
< *** >
May 8th 2014
Arizona Desert
It’s been a while since I built a fire in the middle of nowhere but as long as know how then you never really forget it, life lessons are useful like that. Of course unlike fat American kids, who I’m seeing more and more of on the street nowadays, every Canadian youth generally knows how to start a fire. Not for malicious reasons mind you, very rare you’ll find a Canadian arsonist outside of Darren Thurston and the Monster of the Miramichi, but when you live in a place so damn cold you risk frostbite in your c**k every time you go skinny dipping you’d best learn how to light a fire. Can’t say I ever thought I’d be lighting one up in the middle of the Arizona desert but I’ve spent three days sleeping in a car and I’ve got this wicked crook in my neck and I’d sooner take the sand than the leather right now. Even if half of its found its way down my jeans and up my crack.
I wasn’t sure exactly where I was heading, not for the first three days at least, but now I’ve got my bearings, the inner compass is pointing due north after days of circling the freaking magnetic storm that is life. Still, none of it feels quite real, not the desert sand beneath my hands or the near unbearable heat that comes from both the fire in front of me and the humidity in the air. Didn’t light it for the heat of course, but I needed a bit of light and didn’t want to risk draining the car battery with the headlights. Still, heat’s never really been a problem for me before and it’s good to focus on something other than feeling a gold belt lighter. Funny that, it’s not like I wore it around outside of shows or anything but when it’s gone you still feel it, like a limb that’s been cut off and you’re left with that phantom limb pain.
Pain’s the word of the day, the cravings having refused to leave me since the moment that final bell rang and I realized what an idiot I had been. It started with an itch, just on the underside of my right arm, that has grown into my entire body screaming out for it. My bodies telling me that I can get rid of my self-pity through the bottle, or by popping a few little whites and maybe, for a second, that’d work, but then you sober up and you’re right back there, usually minus your family, your health and your livelihood. So this is my safety net, a car and the roads and not a dealer or a pharmacy in sight. So what if my ribs hurt, so what if my eye is still a little bit swollen, so what if I can’t get over the feeling that I might have bitten a little bit of my tongue of, I’ve been better off out here, just me and my fire.
Sometimes you’ve got to admit that your failure lies in your own hands. I got cocky, arrogant, I didn’t think about the bigger picture. I climbed the cell and I damn well killed Solomon when we came off of it and that cost me the match and my title. I can’t blame Malakai for that, I can’t blame Thunder or Scarlett, can’t even blame Sleater, just myself. I thought I had it in the bag, destiny waiting to happen and I stopped trying, I settled for what I was. I could have tried harder, become stronger, faster, planned better, but I didn’t, I walked into Superbrawl knowing that I was going to win and… I lost. My fault, my own stupidity and hubris, my own pride. You can be the greatest athlete in the world but if you make a mistake you can still lose. That’s what I am, that’s what I did, that’s what happened. Greatness lost through a mistake. A fire extinguished by arrogance unproven. I don’t deserve to be champion, and I don’t deserve a light to guide me to the answers, I have to find them myself amidst the abyss.
I kick some sand over the fire and let it dim until there’s nothing left. And then I just lie down.
And let the darkness envelop me.
< *** >
May 9th 2014
Phoenix Children’s Hospital; Terminal Illness Ward
Stopped off at a hotel on my way here to grab a shower, didn’t want to stink up the place, last thing these kids need is any more odours on top of the undeniable smell of death. Some people will tell you that you can’t smell death, that it’s a myth made up by people who like to pretend they’ve got some weird psychic gift, but those people are bloody idiots. Death stinks, you can smell it coming from their pores, it stinks of hopelessness and defeat and it doesn’t leave you, it stays with you days, even weeks. I’ve smelt of death more in my lifetime than I’d like, yet here I am surrounded by it again, through my own choice this time. Must be losing my mind, eh.
Ava Carter: I was really surprised when you called; I know how busy you must be.
Trace Demon: Not busy enough not to come out for something like this.
Anyone who knows me even a little bit would call me out on that sounding like total bull and they’d be right, this isn’t my thing, it’s not my style at all. In truth I’m here for the worst of reasons, but she doesn’t need to know that and neither does he, why crush their dreams when it does nothing for me? I’m a monster, but I’m not an bunghole.
Ava Carter: He’ll be so happy to see you, you’re his favourite wrestler.
Trace Demon: I’m gonna be honest, I don’t get that all that much, not when it comes to kids anyway. You ever hear about networks targeting the 18-45 demographic? Well that’s the demographic I hit, 18 to 45 year olds generally with a bit of a weird fascination with violence or… other things I don’t really think need going into.
Can’t tell whether she’s taken aback by my honesty, what exactly those other things are or the thought that her eleven year old son might be into them. I’d rather either of the first two, the final one kind of freaks me out too.
Trace Demon: Why’d it take you so long to call me, three years is a long time to wait.
I first met Ava three years back in the waiting room of a hospital. I was waiting on Alexa to come back from the toilet, the girl was pregnant and has the bladder of a… well, a pregnant woman, and Ava here was in a state, her son was in surgery and she wasn’t coping all that well. You ever find yourself stuck in a room with someone you don’t really know and suddenly they start crying? You know the moments, you look around for a few seconds to see if there’s a way out and then you realize s**t, she’s right in the path of the doorway and you’ve got to wait for your pregnant girlfriend because she’ll murder you otherwise. You know, that kind of moment. Anyway, me, going through my whole be a better person because I’m about to have a kid phase, tried comforting her, found out her son was a big fan of yours truly and told her that if her kid ever wanted to meet his hero to give me a call.
Honestly when she didn’t call I kind of just assumed her son died. I won’t deny that I was relieved. Like I said, monster, not bunghole.
Ava Carter: I didn’t think you’d come, big time celebrity and all.
She tries to brush her mess of brown curly hair away from her face and it doesn’t really work, the thing looks like an afro in the heat. Doesn’t help that she’s not an attractive woman by any stretch of the imagination, she reminds me of the ring rat moms I used to pick up when I was too drugged up to care and too beat up to head to a club and find someone younger and hotter. Sure they were less likely to bounce the moment the binds came out but still, now I’m sober I like to have a little something nice to look at even if it is just Alexa’s stunning red hair as her head bounces off the headboard.
Ava Carter: But then Jason got worse and I thought I had to try for his sake. I’d kept the number all this time and… I didn’t expect you to come two days after I called.
Trace Demon: Sometimes you just go with what is right.
And sometimes you’re sleeping in a car driving through the desert and get so bored you check your messages.
Trace Demon: So, it’s bad?
Of course it’s bad you idiot, cancer is bad.
Ava Carter: He’s got days, maybe weeks and… I’m just… I’m hoping that you might give him a reason to fight it.
I hear the emotion in her voice, her tone leaping up and down without her control. It’s awkward for me, I knew there’d be hurdles but I didn’t realize they’d be so teary eyed. I hate tears. I can’t remember ever crying, not in my constitution, thinking about it someone once told me that’s a sign of sociopathic behaviour. Always nice to drop a few unrelated facts here and there.
Ava Carter: Miracles happen Mr. Demon, they do. He can fight this, he just needs a reason, he just needs someone to remind him how.
I’m not sure she knows what terminal means.
Trace Demon: I don’t know if I believe in miracles, and I don’t know if anything I say in that room is going to help your son but if it does then all of this, me coming down here, me seeing him, it will all be worth it just for him to see another day.
The tears well up in her eyes and I pat her half-heartedly on the shoulder, glancing around at the canteen. A single cook, a woman who must not only be in her sixties but based on her physique probably fought in Vietnam, watches with a smile. I wave awkwardly.
Ava Carter: Thank you so much, you don’t know what this means to me. He’s all I’ve got, I can’t lose him.
God, I really am an bunghole.
< *** >
Tomas Carter: This is so cool!
Sitting cross legged in my chair I watch young Tomas look brightly upon all the signed merchandise he now owns. A lot of it was his own stuff, never realized I had so many action figures, but a few were just old programmes and posters I had tucked away in the boot of my car when I high tailed it from the hospital. I’ve got to say I never expected myself to bring a kid like Tomas such happiness and such spirit, most of them run in the other direction the moment they see me, but not him.
Tomas Carter: I can’t believe you’re here!
Trace Demon: You’ve said that like seven times already.
Tomas Carter: Well it’s still true.
He’s got such energy that if you were blind you wouldn’t think for a second that he was any different than any other annoying little kid, but I’ve got eyes and you can’t hide the truth from them. As I glance at his mother through the open door, sitting outside the room talking to a nurse, I wonder if she sees the truth or if she’s hidden it from herself. He’s frail, his skin white as a sheet, he’s unhooked from the machines and drips for now but it’s only a temporary reprieve that can’t last. And worst of all is the smell of death that embodies every inch of this room, it’s a stench unlike any other.
Tomas Carter: It’s just so awesome, I saw you win the title from Alex Sean and now you’re here!
Well that’s a blast from the past, a reminder of a time when I was a big fish in a small pond. Nowadays I’m motherf*****g jaws, ripping everything to shreds like it’s nothing.
Trace Demon: Huh, that was a long time ago kid, surprised you even remember it. You were what, seven?
Tomas Carter: I was eight! And I remember everything you’ve done, you’re so cool and you always win.
Trace Demon: Not always.
I mumble without thinking, it escapes purely by my own hatred for the result.
Tomas Carter: What?
Trace Demon: You seen Superbrawl yet kid?
His face drops a little but as he speaks it perks right back on up, suppose it’s not hard to see how he’s honed his resilience. Dealing with what he’s dealing with his hero losing a wrestling match probably isn’t going to crush his spirit.
Tomas Carter: Yeah, but that was a one-time thing, you were too busy spearing Solomon off the cell, like bang!
He claps his hands together and I actually grin at his enthusiasm. One of the things I’ve learned from Tomas here is that it doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you’re doing crazy ass things inside the ring or from the top of cells people are going to keep watching and keep enjoying it anyway.
Tomas Carter: And now you’re going to win the title back, right? I can’t wait to see you do that!
I feel odd pointing out the irony of this situation. This kid, cancer gripping at his very bones, is supporting me instead of someone like Shawn Malakai. He wants me to take the title from a guy going through the very thing that he is. I guess when you think about it your heroes aren’t the people living down the street from you, they’re not the people you work with, your heroes aren’t living the same life as you, they’re better, they’re richer, they’re achieving something that you’re not. Tomas doesn’t want to be Shawn Malakai because if he was then he’d still be in the exact same boat. He wants to be, successful, rich… healthy.
Trace Demon: That’s the plan.
Tomas Carter: Of course it is, that’s why you’re the best. Do you want to play?
He’s playing around with WFWF action figures or collectibles or whatever you call them. Never really been a fan myself, never played with toys growing up, always too busy hiding from a drunk to play monopoly or anything like that.
Trace Demon: I’m okay, thanks. Actually, I wanted to ask you something.
Tomas Carter: My mother is single.
I’m sure she is.
Trace Demon: Not what I wanted to ask. I wanted to ask… why me? Why are you a fan of me? Why not Scarlett, why not Cameron Stone, why not Shawn Malakai or Thunder or any of the other guys that actually want people to like them?
Tomas Carter: Because you fight.
Trace Demon: We all fight.
Tomas Carter: But you keep fighting. Even when you get hurt you don’t quit and that’s what I have to do. You’ve always fought, you’re like me.
No, no I’m not.
Trace Demon: But what happens if we lose?
He looks out at his mom with more maturity than an eleven year old boy should ever have. But he’s grown up fast, he thought he beat this thing and it came back worse than ever. He’s staring death in the face and it’s staring right on back with a sly smirk… he’s too damn old for his age.
Tomas Carter: We don’t.
I didn’t come here to make this kid feel better.
Trace Demon: We keep fighting.
I came here as a reminder.
Tomas Carter: Yeah…
Not some cheesy reminder that you have to fight no matter what. This isn’t that kind of story.
Tomas Carter: We keep fighting.
I came here as a reminder that sometimes, no matter how hard you fight, there are things that you just can’t beat.
< *** >
I lost. Let’s get that out of the way right now shall we? No excuses, no stories, no side-stepping, I lost at Superbrawl. I took a risk, it didn’t pay off and I lost the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship. There, you happy now?
But see, I may have lost, but I’m not dead, and that’s important. Because you can hurt me, you can maim me, you can tear me apart but you can’t kill me, it’s impossible, it can’t be done, I’m immortal! And as long as there’s air in my lungs it will never be over, I’ll keep coming for you, I’ll keep digging away, I’ll keep tearing until there’s nothing left. And you know it’s true, you know I’ll do it, you’ve seen me do it. Time and time again I’ve worn you down, time and time again I’ve beaten you, time and time again you’ve tried and failed to put me down. And on this rare occasion, in the single moment of glory you have achieved, in that one moment when you thought I was dead and buried… I rose again to do it all again and this time to beat you like you’ve never been beaten before. Who am I talking to? Which of you poor unfortunate souls have I set my sights upon?
All of you.
I may have lost, I may not be champion but I do know one thing now – I’m going to keep fighting. I’m going to come after each and every one of you who stands in my way until I’ve got what is rightfully mine back in my hands. It starts with you Solomon and right now it ends with you Malakai and it doesn’t matter who comes in the middle. Penny Shannon, Jayson Garrett, Ace Bennett, whoever stands in my way won’t be standing for long. I’d say ask Solomon but by the time Reborn comes to a violent, blood-soaked close there won’t be much of him left to ask. He’s the first in a long line, the martyr that begins my new legacy because as one revolution dies, another is reborn with a Demon at its head and blood at its feet. From now on there are no more games, no more arrogance, there is only truth in violence.
Funny thing is a few days ago I wasn’t sure what came next, I didn’t know whether I still had any fight left in me, I was ready to lie down in the desert and die in the darkness. And then I saw the sickness, I saw a body torn apart by cancer and it made me realize something. That little boy, doomed to die no matter how hard the fight… that opened my eyes to the truth. See I’m not the sick one here, I’m the sickness. I’m the cancer corroding the bones of every single one of you and sure, maybe once you’ll think you’ve done it, maybe once you’ll think you’ve beaten me but I’m always there, just waiting, a sickness in your genes and a sickness in the back of your mind hidden but not gone. No matter how many times you think you’ve gotten rid of me, no matter how many times you think you’re healthy and safe and can keep on living your pitiful little life, no matter how many times you go into remission… I’ll always come back…
And no matter how hard you pray, and how hard you fight… I’ll always win.
And you, and your dreams, will all die.
May 8th 2014
”You have twenty eight new messages. Message one.”
Jason Anders: Turn the car around and come back to the hospital Trace, you’re in no state to be running off like this.
”Message seven.”
Alexa Munroe: I gave you two days since I know what you’re like, but I’m not going to sit around and wait for some call telling me you’ve relapsed or worse. So you lost the title, this family of yours doesn’t care, just call me and let me know you’re okay.
”Message thirteen.”
Emily Hall: Why are you being such an a**hole?
”Message nineteen.”
Caitlyn Lucia: Dude people are freaking out, they think you’ve run off and collapsed in a ditch or something. Let somebody know where you are, I can’t be dealing with your families s**t.
”Message twenty-one.”
Axel Demon: Are you dead? Can I have your stuff?
”Message twenty-eight.”
Lila Sleater: You’ve missed half a dozen meetings already, I knew you were unreliable but if one loss is going to send you off the deep end like this then-
”All messages deleted.”
B***h.
<***>
May 5th 2014
Tempe St. Luke’s Hospital
This isn’t the first time Trace has ended up hurt because of some crazy idea he’s had inside the ring, but it is the first time since I’ve been working for him that he’s ended up in hospital because of it. I wasn’t really sure if he’d want to see anyone, I’m expecting some kind of downward spiral from all this, but his family can’t get out here and someone’s got to check up on him. Shame it’s got to be me though. There’s a lot of shouting as I approach the desk, probably some fat cat’s snuffed it, but then they’re all running off and I hear Trace’s name come up. S**t I hope he’s alright, can’t see me having much job security without him around.
Jason Anders: Hey what’s happening, where can I find Trace-
Nurse: We need more help in here, someone call security!
Security? God, that’s got to be him. What’s he doing this time, how’s he even moving about? I rush off after the nurse, they don’t pay much attention to me among all the commotion, and move effortlessly into the hospital room where I do indeed find the man I’m looking for.
Trace Demon: Anders, thank the new gods, explain to these overly paid morons that I’m leaving and they can’t stop me.
We all choose to ignore that a millionaire, soon to be multi-millionaire according to his accounts, are calling doctors overly paid. The nurses are trying to stop Trace from getting dressed and he… well he’s throwing what equates to be a tantrum. There’s a chair shattered in the corner of the room, I’m guessing that was Trace and not the five foot Asian nurse crying in the corner.
Doctor: Please Mr. Demon, we can’t let you leave, your ribs are nowhere near healed and-
Trace Demon: Am I going to die?
Doctor: Well no, but-
Trace Demon: Then I’m leaving, get… the hell…off of me.
He pushes the doctor away and he goes straight into the wall, I can’t help but cringe a little, it looked like a hard bump. Trace pulls on his last sleeve and I realize I’m the last person standing in his way. If I can stall him then security will turn up and then they can deal with him, well, they can try and deal with him at least.
Jason Anders: Trace-
Trace Demon: not you too, come on if anyone in this room realizes that I’m leaving whether people want me to or not it’s got to be you.
Jason Anders: The doctor’s right Trace, you’re in not fit state to walk out of here.
Trace Demon: You think I care if I’m in a fit state, you think I care about my health? I lost, they took my title, my title is now around the waist of some half-dead, untalented midcarder for life who only won because I was lying half-dead as a result of my own hubris.
Yeah, your hubris, there’s nobody else to blame for this but you. I should tell him that, I should… ah who am I kidding, I like my head on my shoulders and my blood in my veins, neither of which needs to be strewn across the floor any time soon.
Jason Anders: You could always just win it back.
Trace Demon: Win it back, win it back?! Get off of me!
He shoves the doctor and he careens off into the hospital bed with a whole lot of force. That’s going to be a lawsuit. The crying nurse has rushed out and there’s a lot of talking out in the hallway, probably trying to figure out who’s going to be next in the room to try and talk him down or force him back into bed. I can’t see there being a lot of takers.
Trace Demon: I can’t just win it back Anders! I lost, I lost at Superbrawl of all places and to Shawn Malakai of all people. I should have had it in the bag, I deserved to be champion and now I don’t deserve anything, now I’m just the guy who lost the title to a dying man. I’m the guy who can’t retain the title in his own company, at his own companies biggest show. I’m the guy who can’t prove himself to his own damn self and you think I can just win this back? No, I lost, I lost the title and I lost the respect of everyone including myself.
Jason Anders: You’re overreacting.
And not for the first time, he’s such a bloody drama queen.
Trace Demon: You wouldn’t understand, you’re not in my head, you’re not a wrestler, you don’t understand what a loss like this means, you don’t know what that title means. It’s not just a hunk of metal, a piece of gold, a shiny piece of tin, it’s everything. Without it… without it I’m nothing. Don’t call me.
Jason Anders: Aren’t you meant to say “I’ll call you” after that.
Trace Demon: If I did it would be a lie.
He pushes past and heads for the door, I wouldn’t even think of stopping him. His arrogance I can cope with, his psychosis even, but a defeated and broken Trace Demon is not something I have any experience with. He’s right, I can’t fathom how it must feel to go so long without tasting defeat and then to taste it on the biggest night of my career. On the other side of the door, as he emerges out into the hallway, a horde of nurses, doctors and hospital security stand circled.
Trace Demon: If one finger touches me I’ll bite it off with my teeth.
One security guard steps forward, a brave man indeed, but as he meets Trace’s glare he freezes, like a tiny dog staring at a lion.
Trace Demon: Keep your fingers and get out of my way.
A bizarre threat yes, but one that achieves it’s goal, the security guard stepping back and Trace barging past him. I watch him go down the corridor and I can’t help but feel that when I see him again it will not be the Trace Demon I know. And not for the better.
< *** >
May 8th 2014
Arizona Desert
It’s been a while since I built a fire in the middle of nowhere but as long as know how then you never really forget it, life lessons are useful like that. Of course unlike fat American kids, who I’m seeing more and more of on the street nowadays, every Canadian youth generally knows how to start a fire. Not for malicious reasons mind you, very rare you’ll find a Canadian arsonist outside of Darren Thurston and the Monster of the Miramichi, but when you live in a place so damn cold you risk frostbite in your c**k every time you go skinny dipping you’d best learn how to light a fire. Can’t say I ever thought I’d be lighting one up in the middle of the Arizona desert but I’ve spent three days sleeping in a car and I’ve got this wicked crook in my neck and I’d sooner take the sand than the leather right now. Even if half of its found its way down my jeans and up my crack.
I wasn’t sure exactly where I was heading, not for the first three days at least, but now I’ve got my bearings, the inner compass is pointing due north after days of circling the freaking magnetic storm that is life. Still, none of it feels quite real, not the desert sand beneath my hands or the near unbearable heat that comes from both the fire in front of me and the humidity in the air. Didn’t light it for the heat of course, but I needed a bit of light and didn’t want to risk draining the car battery with the headlights. Still, heat’s never really been a problem for me before and it’s good to focus on something other than feeling a gold belt lighter. Funny that, it’s not like I wore it around outside of shows or anything but when it’s gone you still feel it, like a limb that’s been cut off and you’re left with that phantom limb pain.
Pain’s the word of the day, the cravings having refused to leave me since the moment that final bell rang and I realized what an idiot I had been. It started with an itch, just on the underside of my right arm, that has grown into my entire body screaming out for it. My bodies telling me that I can get rid of my self-pity through the bottle, or by popping a few little whites and maybe, for a second, that’d work, but then you sober up and you’re right back there, usually minus your family, your health and your livelihood. So this is my safety net, a car and the roads and not a dealer or a pharmacy in sight. So what if my ribs hurt, so what if my eye is still a little bit swollen, so what if I can’t get over the feeling that I might have bitten a little bit of my tongue of, I’ve been better off out here, just me and my fire.
Sometimes you’ve got to admit that your failure lies in your own hands. I got cocky, arrogant, I didn’t think about the bigger picture. I climbed the cell and I damn well killed Solomon when we came off of it and that cost me the match and my title. I can’t blame Malakai for that, I can’t blame Thunder or Scarlett, can’t even blame Sleater, just myself. I thought I had it in the bag, destiny waiting to happen and I stopped trying, I settled for what I was. I could have tried harder, become stronger, faster, planned better, but I didn’t, I walked into Superbrawl knowing that I was going to win and… I lost. My fault, my own stupidity and hubris, my own pride. You can be the greatest athlete in the world but if you make a mistake you can still lose. That’s what I am, that’s what I did, that’s what happened. Greatness lost through a mistake. A fire extinguished by arrogance unproven. I don’t deserve to be champion, and I don’t deserve a light to guide me to the answers, I have to find them myself amidst the abyss.
I kick some sand over the fire and let it dim until there’s nothing left. And then I just lie down.
And let the darkness envelop me.
< *** >
May 9th 2014
Phoenix Children’s Hospital; Terminal Illness Ward
Stopped off at a hotel on my way here to grab a shower, didn’t want to stink up the place, last thing these kids need is any more odours on top of the undeniable smell of death. Some people will tell you that you can’t smell death, that it’s a myth made up by people who like to pretend they’ve got some weird psychic gift, but those people are bloody idiots. Death stinks, you can smell it coming from their pores, it stinks of hopelessness and defeat and it doesn’t leave you, it stays with you days, even weeks. I’ve smelt of death more in my lifetime than I’d like, yet here I am surrounded by it again, through my own choice this time. Must be losing my mind, eh.
Ava Carter: I was really surprised when you called; I know how busy you must be.
Trace Demon: Not busy enough not to come out for something like this.
Anyone who knows me even a little bit would call me out on that sounding like total bull and they’d be right, this isn’t my thing, it’s not my style at all. In truth I’m here for the worst of reasons, but she doesn’t need to know that and neither does he, why crush their dreams when it does nothing for me? I’m a monster, but I’m not an bunghole.
Ava Carter: He’ll be so happy to see you, you’re his favourite wrestler.
Trace Demon: I’m gonna be honest, I don’t get that all that much, not when it comes to kids anyway. You ever hear about networks targeting the 18-45 demographic? Well that’s the demographic I hit, 18 to 45 year olds generally with a bit of a weird fascination with violence or… other things I don’t really think need going into.
Can’t tell whether she’s taken aback by my honesty, what exactly those other things are or the thought that her eleven year old son might be into them. I’d rather either of the first two, the final one kind of freaks me out too.
Trace Demon: Why’d it take you so long to call me, three years is a long time to wait.
I first met Ava three years back in the waiting room of a hospital. I was waiting on Alexa to come back from the toilet, the girl was pregnant and has the bladder of a… well, a pregnant woman, and Ava here was in a state, her son was in surgery and she wasn’t coping all that well. You ever find yourself stuck in a room with someone you don’t really know and suddenly they start crying? You know the moments, you look around for a few seconds to see if there’s a way out and then you realize s**t, she’s right in the path of the doorway and you’ve got to wait for your pregnant girlfriend because she’ll murder you otherwise. You know, that kind of moment. Anyway, me, going through my whole be a better person because I’m about to have a kid phase, tried comforting her, found out her son was a big fan of yours truly and told her that if her kid ever wanted to meet his hero to give me a call.
Honestly when she didn’t call I kind of just assumed her son died. I won’t deny that I was relieved. Like I said, monster, not bunghole.
Ava Carter: I didn’t think you’d come, big time celebrity and all.
She tries to brush her mess of brown curly hair away from her face and it doesn’t really work, the thing looks like an afro in the heat. Doesn’t help that she’s not an attractive woman by any stretch of the imagination, she reminds me of the ring rat moms I used to pick up when I was too drugged up to care and too beat up to head to a club and find someone younger and hotter. Sure they were less likely to bounce the moment the binds came out but still, now I’m sober I like to have a little something nice to look at even if it is just Alexa’s stunning red hair as her head bounces off the headboard.
Ava Carter: But then Jason got worse and I thought I had to try for his sake. I’d kept the number all this time and… I didn’t expect you to come two days after I called.
Trace Demon: Sometimes you just go with what is right.
And sometimes you’re sleeping in a car driving through the desert and get so bored you check your messages.
Trace Demon: So, it’s bad?
Of course it’s bad you idiot, cancer is bad.
Ava Carter: He’s got days, maybe weeks and… I’m just… I’m hoping that you might give him a reason to fight it.
I hear the emotion in her voice, her tone leaping up and down without her control. It’s awkward for me, I knew there’d be hurdles but I didn’t realize they’d be so teary eyed. I hate tears. I can’t remember ever crying, not in my constitution, thinking about it someone once told me that’s a sign of sociopathic behaviour. Always nice to drop a few unrelated facts here and there.
Ava Carter: Miracles happen Mr. Demon, they do. He can fight this, he just needs a reason, he just needs someone to remind him how.
I’m not sure she knows what terminal means.
Trace Demon: I don’t know if I believe in miracles, and I don’t know if anything I say in that room is going to help your son but if it does then all of this, me coming down here, me seeing him, it will all be worth it just for him to see another day.
The tears well up in her eyes and I pat her half-heartedly on the shoulder, glancing around at the canteen. A single cook, a woman who must not only be in her sixties but based on her physique probably fought in Vietnam, watches with a smile. I wave awkwardly.
Ava Carter: Thank you so much, you don’t know what this means to me. He’s all I’ve got, I can’t lose him.
God, I really am an bunghole.
< *** >
Tomas Carter: This is so cool!
Sitting cross legged in my chair I watch young Tomas look brightly upon all the signed merchandise he now owns. A lot of it was his own stuff, never realized I had so many action figures, but a few were just old programmes and posters I had tucked away in the boot of my car when I high tailed it from the hospital. I’ve got to say I never expected myself to bring a kid like Tomas such happiness and such spirit, most of them run in the other direction the moment they see me, but not him.
Tomas Carter: I can’t believe you’re here!
Trace Demon: You’ve said that like seven times already.
Tomas Carter: Well it’s still true.
He’s got such energy that if you were blind you wouldn’t think for a second that he was any different than any other annoying little kid, but I’ve got eyes and you can’t hide the truth from them. As I glance at his mother through the open door, sitting outside the room talking to a nurse, I wonder if she sees the truth or if she’s hidden it from herself. He’s frail, his skin white as a sheet, he’s unhooked from the machines and drips for now but it’s only a temporary reprieve that can’t last. And worst of all is the smell of death that embodies every inch of this room, it’s a stench unlike any other.
Tomas Carter: It’s just so awesome, I saw you win the title from Alex Sean and now you’re here!
Well that’s a blast from the past, a reminder of a time when I was a big fish in a small pond. Nowadays I’m motherf*****g jaws, ripping everything to shreds like it’s nothing.
Trace Demon: Huh, that was a long time ago kid, surprised you even remember it. You were what, seven?
Tomas Carter: I was eight! And I remember everything you’ve done, you’re so cool and you always win.
Trace Demon: Not always.
I mumble without thinking, it escapes purely by my own hatred for the result.
Tomas Carter: What?
Trace Demon: You seen Superbrawl yet kid?
His face drops a little but as he speaks it perks right back on up, suppose it’s not hard to see how he’s honed his resilience. Dealing with what he’s dealing with his hero losing a wrestling match probably isn’t going to crush his spirit.
Tomas Carter: Yeah, but that was a one-time thing, you were too busy spearing Solomon off the cell, like bang!
He claps his hands together and I actually grin at his enthusiasm. One of the things I’ve learned from Tomas here is that it doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you’re doing crazy ass things inside the ring or from the top of cells people are going to keep watching and keep enjoying it anyway.
Tomas Carter: And now you’re going to win the title back, right? I can’t wait to see you do that!
I feel odd pointing out the irony of this situation. This kid, cancer gripping at his very bones, is supporting me instead of someone like Shawn Malakai. He wants me to take the title from a guy going through the very thing that he is. I guess when you think about it your heroes aren’t the people living down the street from you, they’re not the people you work with, your heroes aren’t living the same life as you, they’re better, they’re richer, they’re achieving something that you’re not. Tomas doesn’t want to be Shawn Malakai because if he was then he’d still be in the exact same boat. He wants to be, successful, rich… healthy.
Trace Demon: That’s the plan.
Tomas Carter: Of course it is, that’s why you’re the best. Do you want to play?
He’s playing around with WFWF action figures or collectibles or whatever you call them. Never really been a fan myself, never played with toys growing up, always too busy hiding from a drunk to play monopoly or anything like that.
Trace Demon: I’m okay, thanks. Actually, I wanted to ask you something.
Tomas Carter: My mother is single.
I’m sure she is.
Trace Demon: Not what I wanted to ask. I wanted to ask… why me? Why are you a fan of me? Why not Scarlett, why not Cameron Stone, why not Shawn Malakai or Thunder or any of the other guys that actually want people to like them?
Tomas Carter: Because you fight.
Trace Demon: We all fight.
Tomas Carter: But you keep fighting. Even when you get hurt you don’t quit and that’s what I have to do. You’ve always fought, you’re like me.
No, no I’m not.
Trace Demon: But what happens if we lose?
He looks out at his mom with more maturity than an eleven year old boy should ever have. But he’s grown up fast, he thought he beat this thing and it came back worse than ever. He’s staring death in the face and it’s staring right on back with a sly smirk… he’s too damn old for his age.
Tomas Carter: We don’t.
I didn’t come here to make this kid feel better.
Trace Demon: We keep fighting.
I came here as a reminder.
Tomas Carter: Yeah…
Not some cheesy reminder that you have to fight no matter what. This isn’t that kind of story.
Tomas Carter: We keep fighting.
I came here as a reminder that sometimes, no matter how hard you fight, there are things that you just can’t beat.
< *** >
I lost. Let’s get that out of the way right now shall we? No excuses, no stories, no side-stepping, I lost at Superbrawl. I took a risk, it didn’t pay off and I lost the WFWF World Heavyweight Championship. There, you happy now?
But see, I may have lost, but I’m not dead, and that’s important. Because you can hurt me, you can maim me, you can tear me apart but you can’t kill me, it’s impossible, it can’t be done, I’m immortal! And as long as there’s air in my lungs it will never be over, I’ll keep coming for you, I’ll keep digging away, I’ll keep tearing until there’s nothing left. And you know it’s true, you know I’ll do it, you’ve seen me do it. Time and time again I’ve worn you down, time and time again I’ve beaten you, time and time again you’ve tried and failed to put me down. And on this rare occasion, in the single moment of glory you have achieved, in that one moment when you thought I was dead and buried… I rose again to do it all again and this time to beat you like you’ve never been beaten before. Who am I talking to? Which of you poor unfortunate souls have I set my sights upon?
All of you.
I may have lost, I may not be champion but I do know one thing now – I’m going to keep fighting. I’m going to come after each and every one of you who stands in my way until I’ve got what is rightfully mine back in my hands. It starts with you Solomon and right now it ends with you Malakai and it doesn’t matter who comes in the middle. Penny Shannon, Jayson Garrett, Ace Bennett, whoever stands in my way won’t be standing for long. I’d say ask Solomon but by the time Reborn comes to a violent, blood-soaked close there won’t be much of him left to ask. He’s the first in a long line, the martyr that begins my new legacy because as one revolution dies, another is reborn with a Demon at its head and blood at its feet. From now on there are no more games, no more arrogance, there is only truth in violence.
Funny thing is a few days ago I wasn’t sure what came next, I didn’t know whether I still had any fight left in me, I was ready to lie down in the desert and die in the darkness. And then I saw the sickness, I saw a body torn apart by cancer and it made me realize something. That little boy, doomed to die no matter how hard the fight… that opened my eyes to the truth. See I’m not the sick one here, I’m the sickness. I’m the cancer corroding the bones of every single one of you and sure, maybe once you’ll think you’ve done it, maybe once you’ll think you’ve beaten me but I’m always there, just waiting, a sickness in your genes and a sickness in the back of your mind hidden but not gone. No matter how many times you think you’ve gotten rid of me, no matter how many times you think you’re healthy and safe and can keep on living your pitiful little life, no matter how many times you go into remission… I’ll always come back…
And no matter how hard you pray, and how hard you fight… I’ll always win.
And you, and your dreams, will all die.
I dont know good luck 
