Post by Deleted on Dec 16, 2014 20:45:32 GMT -5
The hotel telephone goes off at six in the morning right next to my bed. It's a two-bedroom suite with Chase in the other bedroom. Chase has been exceptionally quiet since the trip across the pond for the first title defense of the titles. My titles. I will say I deserve most of the credit for the fact that we won, and I held the titles as one man when Chase decided to head into the looney bin without giving me any warning. That is the past for The Clash. What's important is our clash with two men led by DMK, Samael Ahriman and Tugarin Zmey. Three thorns in my side for what's been far too long to ignore now. I had a chance to pull one out at Black Friday and alleviate my thoughts of this nagging thorn, these pains that I've had for many months. What happened though is not that. Instead of that, it's simply digging deeper. This is my last opportunity to take the thorns out. To have the chance to remove them, which I certainly will. Now there's plenty on the line. This is no longer about simply showing the fans that I'm the absolute best they'll ever see. Now it's about the belts that prove that fact. The piece that always backed my claim up to the fans, something that gave me the extra validity to those unknowing of my greatness. They're on the line. If we, if I lose, these thorns that have bothered me so long are going to sink into my skin. They will become scars of my mistakes. It will remind me of what I desperately wanted to do, but failed at, and that's holding onto these titles until I can't compete anymore. The thorns won't sink into my side in London. I'm going to pull them out myself and discard them in an orderly fashion because I will remain the measuring stick of tag teams for years to come.
I lean over to the bedside table and pick up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Jayson, hello. This is Officer Coleman of Olympia, and the head of the investigation of Chase Landon."
What I needed was this distraction before the first tag team title defense of our team. The reminder that I need to continue to keep tabs on Chase when I can barely focus on my own schedule. Chase only joined me yesterday, the last flight. He took a cab, that I set up and paid might I add for him, to a hotel, that I'm allowing him to room with me, for a match where I will carry him to the biggest victory of his life. I'm not sure why I even agreed to the extra stress in the first place.
"How did you find out where I'm staying?"
"We placed a phone call into WFWF management, this is a very serious matter. We wanted to let you know Mr. Shirley is in England and will be present at the event. We've received a backstage pass for him so if you find anything odd about Chase tonight he will be here. Due to the high amount of stress we're imagining Chase is feeling we thought it'd be best to have one of our own available for your contact while in England and in case of emergency be able to handle Chase for you backstage. Thanks, I'll talk when you return."
She doesn't give me a chance to say anything else. As much as Chase drives me crazy, I still need him for this match. The same management who gave Coleman the hotel's number will certainly not let me enter a tag team match, let alone a championship tag team match where I am the champion, alone. Brian Shirley and the Chase Landon case can wait because I'm only focused on one thing, retaining my gold.
Chase wakes up now. Nothing out of the normal happens in the morning. Just as he has been for the entire trip, he remains nonresponsive and distant towards my questions and comments. I ignore him, but there's a voice in the back of my mind. Something telling me to keep prodding him for the answers that he may have. The answers that the police want. I took up this responsibility, I might as well prod Chase until I get what I and in turn the police need. Still, I ignore that urge, there's a match tonight. The last thing I need is Chase being paranoid about me.
The nagging thing is still present during the time from when we leave the hotel and make our way to Wembley Stadium. I'd been to London several times for movies but never with the WFWF. Wembley is a stadium that was built on a site with a proud history. In addition to the recent NFL games and soccer matches that have taken place not just in the newly constructed Wembley, but the one in which this new one was built upon. Tonight Wembley sees an athlete that it has never seen before and never will again. Jayson Garrett for the first time steps foot inside an English wrestling ring. It's only fitting that on such a historic site, the star of the present and future is going to have his first wrestling match in England here. I'm going to light up England more than The Beatles did when they broke on to the scene. One Direction has nothing on the star power that I will be obtaining in England after just one wrestling match. The talk of the town is going to be the fact that I put on the best show the fans of London have ever seen, and Chase can stand holding the tag rope as it happens.
Finally time to head to the stadium. The presswork is over. The long days of moving between TV station to radio station to press conference then back to a different hotel room are done. There's just one thing left to focus on and to dedicate all the rest of my time and attention to here in London. The Clash. My first opportunity to get my hands on the men behind the torture that has occurred to me in a sanctioned fight. A fight it will certainly be. Gone are the days of waiting to finally have the opportunity to fight for my titles. There will be no more waiting for the time to present itself so I can take down Zmey and Samael. The time is now.
I turn to my left, stupid British cars, to see Chase sitting there, still in a sweat, holding on to his rock as if his life depended on it. I know I shouldn't even acknowledge he's there. I should just ignore him until we get to the building and it's time for our match. I have to say something though. Something about that stupid rock.
"Chase, seriously, what's the deal with that rock?"
"It's not a rock. It's a badge."
Unbelievable, in his mind, for god knows what reason, he thinks this piece of earth, a rock, is a badge. I don't know how, I don't know why, but he does and I want to know. He pushes it towards me now.
"How could this be a rock?"
"How could it be a badge?!"
Silence. I've finally connected the puzzle pieces in his head. He's hesitating. He finally speaks.
"I need to get rid of it."
I laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood as he sounds gravely concerned.
"Well obviously Chase, that rock is pretty heavy. It gets annoying to carry around I'm sure."
"No, this is evidence."
"Of what? How in the world could a rock be evidence?"
He doesn't hear me. He continues.
"This was the police officer's badge. I can't let anyone know I have this."
There goes any process I thought Chase had made over the course of our talk. In my frustration I punch the steering wheel honking the horn.
"It's not a badge! It's a rock! It's a rock! I don't know how in your mind you see that as a badge, but it's a rock!"
"Lay off the horn, mate, for god's sake!"
The passenger in the car in front of me yells back. I honk again.
"I'll honk all I want! Now shut up and roll your window up!"
No response and the car speeds up a bit. Now Chase is talking in a more firm tone.
"No it's not. This isn't a rock. It's a badge. It has the police officer's name on it and everything, and now I need to get rid of it so you don't use it as evidence against me."
"Evidence for what!?"
"I can't tell you or you'll tell your cop buddies and I'll be locked up with only my thoughts. I can't do that. I can't be alone with my thoughts, Jayson. Not after being in the hospital. I escaped for a reason."
Chase is officially still insane. I have no clue how he was able to be signed out of the mental ward, especially since he himself thinks he escaped from it, but he obviously needs to go back. Still, I can't talk about this. Not yet at least. As champions I've been at the peak of the mountain for so long. Without a partner as champions would spell the end of my stint at the top. What if it's a loss? I can't think about ifs. Even so, I still couldn't go out on my own yet with unfinished business. They'd have taken my titles. Chase thinks one is his, so he'll fight with me, but I know they're mine. We'd have to stick together. That's why I still need him. I can't afford for him to get locked up.
"Chase, you didn't escape from anything."
"I need to get rid of this."
I've lost hope on Chase. This obsession with some rock that he thinks is a badge for some police officer has gone on for far too long for far too long. I roll down his window.
"Then get rid of it. Just throw it on the side of the road."
"They'll know. They'd know where it is. I'm sure they're here, making sure you have an outlet if they think I'm going crazy."
I hold back from the obvious response telling him that he is, in fact, crazy. Instead, I opt for a more tactful reply.
"Look, first off, that meeting with the police wasn't anything involving you. I'm not turning you in for anything, it was just a once off meeting to make sure you're doing okay."
"So it was about me. Really? Did they tell you to lead me to the arena and turn me in?"
"No, Chase, oh my god let me finish. So they asked if you were doing okay since they knew you'd been in that mental hospital."
"But I escaped, how would they know Jayson?"
The sound that the road makes when just one window in the car is open and you're speeding down the road is filling the car. It is almost as bad as Chase's insane arguments. I sigh.
"You didn't escape from anything, you were signed out."
He starts to say something, I cut him off.
"Don't speak, listen. Now, you know that no matter what I may think, these are tag titles. I'm not going to be allowed to defend them by myself, believe me, I've tried. You want redemption just as much as I do, why wouldn't I let you fight? I want these titles too you know."
I'm hoping that he doesn't realize that I don't really care too much about his input in this matter. But, after all, I am an award winning actor, so I can mask it well. My speech comes through to him it seems. He doesn't speak.
"Look, do yourself a favor and just toss the rock-"
"Badge."
"It's a rock Chase."
"No it's not."
"That's not the point. Just toss it out the window. We're 5,000 miles from Seattle, no one cares now, no one will ever care. Save yourself the stress and just toss it out the window."
Nothing. Whatever. I refocus on the road. A few seconds go by, then I hear some rustling. Then a thud outside. I still don't look. Mission accomplished.
The rest of the ride goes rather smoothly, nice and quiet. Though we get to the arena and park and sure enough, as soon as I get out of the car and go to give Chase his bag, he's gone. I sigh. I head in to get focused. I drop everything off in the locker room and go get taped up. Soon time passes rather quickly. An hour goes by, no Chase. Two hours, still no Chase. Finally a half hour before the match and no Chase. I walk around, deciding enough is enough. I make an entire lap around the building. Not a sign of him. I recover to the locker room and put my head down and sigh.
This is what I needed tonight. To put my titles on the lines and prove to the two men standing across from me that I am in every way better than they are. No matter their height, size, or brain that stands outside the ring for them yelling, I was still going to go in there as the champion and walk out the same way. But a handicap match isn't the same. I fully intend, and expect, to have to carry Chase, especially in his state of mind, so doing everything isn't a problem. It's the vindication. Almost a challenge. I've proven that I can last with Chase Landon as my partner. Even when he disappeared I held these titles. The defense is another step. It's proof that with Chase Landon, insane state and all, I can still hold these titles. I look over to grab my hoodie from my bag, prepared for a 2 on 1 war. Then I see it. That stupid rock, in my bag. Then in comes Chase like clockwork. I look at him, holding that rock. Kind of like a mom does when her son screws up, only I'm not a woman and even if I were I'd be mortified if Chase was my son.
"They'd never expect to find the badge in your bag. But if they did find it in your bag then you'd be in trouble. So you'd be in this with me. You want me to get rid of it? Fine. Then you take it."
It's not worth it. I just let out a sigh.
"Okay fine, if it means you'll stop your stupid obsession with it and contribute to our match, then I will take it. Let's just go win."
This is it. The moment that since I've been champion I have been waiting for. The first challenge to the throne. The blindside attacks, the cheap-shots, everything DMK has ordered on me ends tonight. There won't be a chance to hide. Not that an over seven foot monster and the midget with an ego to match his monster's height along with their pal who is first on my target list tonight after my loss can hide in the ring anyways. For the length of the match it doesn't matter whether Chase Landon is insane or we don't get along or he's paranoid about some stupid rock. It doesn't matter if I've been beaten up in the past. Even the past itself doesn't matter on this winter night in London. What matters is the four men in the ring and the fact that of them I will prove that I'm superior to the men standing across from me. London will be home to just the first of many triumphs of the Jayson Garrett Tag Team title reign. Chase Landon whether I like him or not is my partner for this. The afternoon is gone. Neither of us focus on anything but sending Zmey and Samael home empty handed and DMK filled with rage that his hand-picked buddies couldn't get the job done. Preparation is over. The waiting is done. This is the opportunity I've been waiting for. Chase and I, despite our dysfunction, walk out towards the curtain together as tag team champions.
I lean over to the bedside table and pick up the phone.
"Hello?"
"Jayson, hello. This is Officer Coleman of Olympia, and the head of the investigation of Chase Landon."
What I needed was this distraction before the first tag team title defense of our team. The reminder that I need to continue to keep tabs on Chase when I can barely focus on my own schedule. Chase only joined me yesterday, the last flight. He took a cab, that I set up and paid might I add for him, to a hotel, that I'm allowing him to room with me, for a match where I will carry him to the biggest victory of his life. I'm not sure why I even agreed to the extra stress in the first place.
"How did you find out where I'm staying?"
"We placed a phone call into WFWF management, this is a very serious matter. We wanted to let you know Mr. Shirley is in England and will be present at the event. We've received a backstage pass for him so if you find anything odd about Chase tonight he will be here. Due to the high amount of stress we're imagining Chase is feeling we thought it'd be best to have one of our own available for your contact while in England and in case of emergency be able to handle Chase for you backstage. Thanks, I'll talk when you return."
She doesn't give me a chance to say anything else. As much as Chase drives me crazy, I still need him for this match. The same management who gave Coleman the hotel's number will certainly not let me enter a tag team match, let alone a championship tag team match where I am the champion, alone. Brian Shirley and the Chase Landon case can wait because I'm only focused on one thing, retaining my gold.
Chase wakes up now. Nothing out of the normal happens in the morning. Just as he has been for the entire trip, he remains nonresponsive and distant towards my questions and comments. I ignore him, but there's a voice in the back of my mind. Something telling me to keep prodding him for the answers that he may have. The answers that the police want. I took up this responsibility, I might as well prod Chase until I get what I and in turn the police need. Still, I ignore that urge, there's a match tonight. The last thing I need is Chase being paranoid about me.
The nagging thing is still present during the time from when we leave the hotel and make our way to Wembley Stadium. I'd been to London several times for movies but never with the WFWF. Wembley is a stadium that was built on a site with a proud history. In addition to the recent NFL games and soccer matches that have taken place not just in the newly constructed Wembley, but the one in which this new one was built upon. Tonight Wembley sees an athlete that it has never seen before and never will again. Jayson Garrett for the first time steps foot inside an English wrestling ring. It's only fitting that on such a historic site, the star of the present and future is going to have his first wrestling match in England here. I'm going to light up England more than The Beatles did when they broke on to the scene. One Direction has nothing on the star power that I will be obtaining in England after just one wrestling match. The talk of the town is going to be the fact that I put on the best show the fans of London have ever seen, and Chase can stand holding the tag rope as it happens.
Finally time to head to the stadium. The presswork is over. The long days of moving between TV station to radio station to press conference then back to a different hotel room are done. There's just one thing left to focus on and to dedicate all the rest of my time and attention to here in London. The Clash. My first opportunity to get my hands on the men behind the torture that has occurred to me in a sanctioned fight. A fight it will certainly be. Gone are the days of waiting to finally have the opportunity to fight for my titles. There will be no more waiting for the time to present itself so I can take down Zmey and Samael. The time is now.
I turn to my left, stupid British cars, to see Chase sitting there, still in a sweat, holding on to his rock as if his life depended on it. I know I shouldn't even acknowledge he's there. I should just ignore him until we get to the building and it's time for our match. I have to say something though. Something about that stupid rock.
"Chase, seriously, what's the deal with that rock?"
"It's not a rock. It's a badge."
Unbelievable, in his mind, for god knows what reason, he thinks this piece of earth, a rock, is a badge. I don't know how, I don't know why, but he does and I want to know. He pushes it towards me now.
"How could this be a rock?"
"How could it be a badge?!"
Silence. I've finally connected the puzzle pieces in his head. He's hesitating. He finally speaks.
"I need to get rid of it."
I laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood as he sounds gravely concerned.
"Well obviously Chase, that rock is pretty heavy. It gets annoying to carry around I'm sure."
"No, this is evidence."
"Of what? How in the world could a rock be evidence?"
He doesn't hear me. He continues.
"This was the police officer's badge. I can't let anyone know I have this."
There goes any process I thought Chase had made over the course of our talk. In my frustration I punch the steering wheel honking the horn.
"It's not a badge! It's a rock! It's a rock! I don't know how in your mind you see that as a badge, but it's a rock!"
"Lay off the horn, mate, for god's sake!"
The passenger in the car in front of me yells back. I honk again.
"I'll honk all I want! Now shut up and roll your window up!"
No response and the car speeds up a bit. Now Chase is talking in a more firm tone.
"No it's not. This isn't a rock. It's a badge. It has the police officer's name on it and everything, and now I need to get rid of it so you don't use it as evidence against me."
"Evidence for what!?"
"I can't tell you or you'll tell your cop buddies and I'll be locked up with only my thoughts. I can't do that. I can't be alone with my thoughts, Jayson. Not after being in the hospital. I escaped for a reason."
Chase is officially still insane. I have no clue how he was able to be signed out of the mental ward, especially since he himself thinks he escaped from it, but he obviously needs to go back. Still, I can't talk about this. Not yet at least. As champions I've been at the peak of the mountain for so long. Without a partner as champions would spell the end of my stint at the top. What if it's a loss? I can't think about ifs. Even so, I still couldn't go out on my own yet with unfinished business. They'd have taken my titles. Chase thinks one is his, so he'll fight with me, but I know they're mine. We'd have to stick together. That's why I still need him. I can't afford for him to get locked up.
"Chase, you didn't escape from anything."
"I need to get rid of this."
I've lost hope on Chase. This obsession with some rock that he thinks is a badge for some police officer has gone on for far too long for far too long. I roll down his window.
"Then get rid of it. Just throw it on the side of the road."
"They'll know. They'd know where it is. I'm sure they're here, making sure you have an outlet if they think I'm going crazy."
I hold back from the obvious response telling him that he is, in fact, crazy. Instead, I opt for a more tactful reply.
"Look, first off, that meeting with the police wasn't anything involving you. I'm not turning you in for anything, it was just a once off meeting to make sure you're doing okay."
"So it was about me. Really? Did they tell you to lead me to the arena and turn me in?"
"No, Chase, oh my god let me finish. So they asked if you were doing okay since they knew you'd been in that mental hospital."
"But I escaped, how would they know Jayson?"
The sound that the road makes when just one window in the car is open and you're speeding down the road is filling the car. It is almost as bad as Chase's insane arguments. I sigh.
"You didn't escape from anything, you were signed out."
He starts to say something, I cut him off.
"Don't speak, listen. Now, you know that no matter what I may think, these are tag titles. I'm not going to be allowed to defend them by myself, believe me, I've tried. You want redemption just as much as I do, why wouldn't I let you fight? I want these titles too you know."
I'm hoping that he doesn't realize that I don't really care too much about his input in this matter. But, after all, I am an award winning actor, so I can mask it well. My speech comes through to him it seems. He doesn't speak.
"Look, do yourself a favor and just toss the rock-"
"Badge."
"It's a rock Chase."
"No it's not."
"That's not the point. Just toss it out the window. We're 5,000 miles from Seattle, no one cares now, no one will ever care. Save yourself the stress and just toss it out the window."
Nothing. Whatever. I refocus on the road. A few seconds go by, then I hear some rustling. Then a thud outside. I still don't look. Mission accomplished.
The rest of the ride goes rather smoothly, nice and quiet. Though we get to the arena and park and sure enough, as soon as I get out of the car and go to give Chase his bag, he's gone. I sigh. I head in to get focused. I drop everything off in the locker room and go get taped up. Soon time passes rather quickly. An hour goes by, no Chase. Two hours, still no Chase. Finally a half hour before the match and no Chase. I walk around, deciding enough is enough. I make an entire lap around the building. Not a sign of him. I recover to the locker room and put my head down and sigh.
This is what I needed tonight. To put my titles on the lines and prove to the two men standing across from me that I am in every way better than they are. No matter their height, size, or brain that stands outside the ring for them yelling, I was still going to go in there as the champion and walk out the same way. But a handicap match isn't the same. I fully intend, and expect, to have to carry Chase, especially in his state of mind, so doing everything isn't a problem. It's the vindication. Almost a challenge. I've proven that I can last with Chase Landon as my partner. Even when he disappeared I held these titles. The defense is another step. It's proof that with Chase Landon, insane state and all, I can still hold these titles. I look over to grab my hoodie from my bag, prepared for a 2 on 1 war. Then I see it. That stupid rock, in my bag. Then in comes Chase like clockwork. I look at him, holding that rock. Kind of like a mom does when her son screws up, only I'm not a woman and even if I were I'd be mortified if Chase was my son.
"They'd never expect to find the badge in your bag. But if they did find it in your bag then you'd be in trouble. So you'd be in this with me. You want me to get rid of it? Fine. Then you take it."
It's not worth it. I just let out a sigh.
"Okay fine, if it means you'll stop your stupid obsession with it and contribute to our match, then I will take it. Let's just go win."
This is it. The moment that since I've been champion I have been waiting for. The first challenge to the throne. The blindside attacks, the cheap-shots, everything DMK has ordered on me ends tonight. There won't be a chance to hide. Not that an over seven foot monster and the midget with an ego to match his monster's height along with their pal who is first on my target list tonight after my loss can hide in the ring anyways. For the length of the match it doesn't matter whether Chase Landon is insane or we don't get along or he's paranoid about some stupid rock. It doesn't matter if I've been beaten up in the past. Even the past itself doesn't matter on this winter night in London. What matters is the four men in the ring and the fact that of them I will prove that I'm superior to the men standing across from me. London will be home to just the first of many triumphs of the Jayson Garrett Tag Team title reign. Chase Landon whether I like him or not is my partner for this. The afternoon is gone. Neither of us focus on anything but sending Zmey and Samael home empty handed and DMK filled with rage that his hand-picked buddies couldn't get the job done. Preparation is over. The waiting is done. This is the opportunity I've been waiting for. Chase and I, despite our dysfunction, walk out towards the curtain together as tag team champions.
