Post by Michael Callahan on Dec 22, 2012 21:54:54 GMT -4
THE FINAL ISSUE
A Michael Callahan Graphic Novel
The two journalists from the Seattle Press, young hot-shot Edison and the elderly and wise Alexander Caine wasted no time in making their way down to the hospital for what would be the scoop of all scoops to close out 2012. It was the story to break the year and of course... Callahan's already trodden on reputation. Charging through the sliding doors to the hospital, the two damn near flipped over the reception desk as they slammed into it in their hurry to find the ward before it was too late.
Jonathan Edison: Jonathan Edison, I'm Bethany Monroe's cousin. What ward is she in? I've got urgent news.
Alexander Caine: REALLY urgent.
Nurse Hannibal: She's in Ward 302, just follow the yellow line and take the stairs.
Both Alex and Jonathan followed with their eyes as the nurse pointed at the floor which had a colour coding path system for ease on the budget for signs. Locating the yellow one, they immediately began to run along the line and followed it 'til they reach the staircase.
Jonathan Edison: You're serious about her coming out of her coma?
Alexander Caine: Deadly! My same insider source-I-
Atop the stairwell, they barrel through the door and straight for Ward 302 making sure to cause as much chaos as they possibly can. That all comes to a stop though as Dr. Tony Morishima slips out of the Ward they're looking for and nearly knocks them flat on their back in the process.
Dr. Tony Morishima: Where are you two going?
Jonathan Edison: To see Bethany... We're... family.
Dr. Tony Morishima: Bizarre, no family members have been to see her since she arrived.
Morishima saw right through them and they knew it but he didn't especially care either way. He twirled his stethoscope around casually as he carried on walking down the corridor, whistling a merry tune as he went. Edison and Caine pushed their way through the swinging double doors of Bethany's ward, Ward 302 and were taken aback by the shut blinds and the lack of light and sound.
Jonathan Edison: Oh... God...
Edison wondered why there was no life support machine beeping, until it occurred to him. There was no longer a need to monitor her heart rate, but not because she'd woken up, rather that she was never going to.
Michael Callahan: I'm... I'm so sorry Bethany... I'm so sorry, for everything. This is all my fault.
Michael inhaled deeply through his nose, trying his best to suffocate the welling up of his eyes. His voice was tainted with the unmistakable sound of anguish.
Michael Callahan: If I hadn't have been so stubborn... so foolish, you'd still be alive today. Why did you have to lie to me? Why?! Because I'm stupid, that's why. So convinced that I had everything perfect and yet... -sniff- I was destroying everything I held near and dear to me. Now, what do I have left? Money and a career, but what good is that when you have nobody to share it with? My friends have left me... My employees have left me... And now... you're gone. I... I...
No longer can Callahan choke back the deep mourning that fills his chest and lungs. The corners of eyes explode and torrents of hot salty tears streak down the cheeks of the devastated, self-realised American Hero who's finally discovering just how heroic he truly isn't. He burrows head into the hospital bedding and to Bethany's side, crying a deep and painful sadness out from the very core of his soul, a true deep hurt that Callahan can no longer deny to himself. Edison and Caine, the unnoticed watchers exchange looks and back away together slowly. Now was not the time to destroy Michael's life... not yet.
Like usual, Callahan was in the car recording his audio diary but this time there was no accompanying laughter from the motley crew of GI and Gray. Only Callahan could be heard making his drive to the Kelso Air Strip, his voice feeling misplaced and out of tone due to it's insufficiencies for mockery. Callahan's voice and quivering bottom lip betrayed the quiet confidence he wished to portray, but he did not care. This was but fuel to the already stoked fire of his hatred for Anthony Bailey.
Michael Callahan: Respect...
A pregnant pause and a deep breath as Callahan collects his thoughts.
Michael Callahan: It's a funny little word, isn't it? Respect. Seven letters, two syllables, two vowels and five consonants. Short, rolls off the tongue, used almost every day in our society. Yet the sad reality is that respect, defined as the admiration or deferential regard for another's abilities or qualities and general character is something that's desired by all but held truly by the few. To throw the textbook of clichés at you, it's something that's not given but earned. Now I've made myself clear time and time again, I don't care much if people respect me because as you've all come to learn, I take great pride in proving people wrong and constantly defying people's expectations. Does this however mean I wish to be disrespected? ... No.
Quieter than usual, Callahan clears his throat and makes a conscious effort to try and speak a little bit louder.
Michael Callahan: For someone like me who polarises our mesmerised audiences and encourages partisan crowds no matter who you choose to support at our shows, you might be surprised to know that the uncompromising “black or white” looks for a grey middle-ground when it comes to the issue of respect. I don't consider people respecting me something that's especially important, it's entirely their choice if they wish to recognise my immense potential. Yet what I don't want is to go through the mires of slander, lies, criticisms... and well, disrespect I've suffered in my near year as a member of the Asylum roster. The main culprit of this? None other than Asylum's own golden boy, Anthony Reese Bailey.
The very name makes his hands tighten around the dashboard in fury, his blood boiling at the thought of that smug little man with his Gucci shoes and his Superdry sweaters.
Michael Callahan: Since I arrived to the dance of Asylum eleven months ago, the most consistent gripe I've had is with this young man, a daddy's boy who bought his way into wrestling and thinks that his “do-gooder” and “golden-boy” status can warrant him a sufficiently high enough pedestal for him to be able to look down upon me from. Right from the very outset, his reaction to even the slightest attempt at diplomacy was met with hostile rejections. A constant verbal assassination of my character, a barrage of tweets citing me as a bully, a liar, just another hack fraud with a God complex thinking I'm entitled to make decisions for people. It's a never ending hurricane of defamation that in any other profession in the world would leave you spread eagle for a law suit that'd dig so deep, the fist of my lawyers would be using you like a puppet. Yet this does not apply in pro wrestling...
Callahan was not quick to mention that this too was something he was guilty of or that even he might be responsible for such instigation but alas, Callahan was always quick to forget his own shortcomings.
Michael Callahan: Not only are you a liar and a slanderer, you're a hypocrite. You laid hands upon my former fiancé to incite me into rage, you've tried to physically accost me on a number of occasions and you've robbed from me a world championship dynasty that by all rights SHOULD be mine. Without any of the hard work I put in, you palled up to Sally and got yourself a world title match. You've had people get your championship defences thrown out because you KNEW you couldn't hack it as champion. You KNEW you had no right holding that glorious belt, and that your name in the history books was a besmirching of it's prestigious name. You're a complete mercenary. If it's going to benefit you Anthony, you will know no loyalties. One whiff of the suggestion that I might have been able to grant your uncles release from prison and you turned your back on Sally in the blink of an eye.
Is it fair that Callahan can use his own dealings with Bailey as a ground on which to criticise him? It was after all his idea and Bailey still insists it was not his own doing. Yet Callahan wasted no opportunity to get on the soapbox.
Michael Callahan: You're a disgusting human being, human trash in a sharp tailored suit. Your toughness, your in-ring ability and your charisma mean nothing to me when all you are is a wolf in sheeps clothing, constantly turning people against me to suit your own wicked, self-glorifying, ego-driven agenda. You came to Asylum for chump change, I came to Asylum to make a change and take a stand against the people like you who destroy all that is good and virtuous in professional wrestling. You took an immediate dislike to me for no properly well explained reason and have massively extended your hand into trying to make my life as miserable as possible. Why?
And boy has he. Bailey was the first man to ever make Callahan willingly use a weapon and swear on national television, a series which culminated in Callahan going all Bret Easton Ellis on Bailey and beating his head in for the second time this year.
Michael Callahan: Is it because I'm a better wrestler than you? Because I'm more charismatic, have a much better shot at immortalising myself in the records than you do? Maybe, maybe not. Could it even be racial tension and the fact that I'm a successful, middle-class white male that immediately drove you to distrust me? I follow all of the members of hip-hop group “Das Racist” on Twitter, I'm not completely oblivious to the fact that some people, even the successful, belonging to certain ethnic groups are still in the habit of holding whitey accountable for absolutely every last one of their screw-ups.
Callahan tailored his words very carefully, he knew that what he'd just said would be tremendously controversial.
Michael Callahan: It doesn't matter why you hate me Anthony, truth be told I've spent a long time soul searching for the answer and I'm now truly beyond caring. Why you disrespect me doesn't matter any more. What matters now is that I put it to a stop, once and for all. I'm going to exterminate you like the vermin you are Bailey, I'm going to beat you at your own game and I'm going to give you the beating of a life time. You WILL learn to respect me Anthony because if my dominant performance against you in the ring doesn't convince you that I'm the superior athlete and wrestler in this business? Then the sound of your bones snapping, your heart pounding and your blood spilling will do. I despise your very existence...
Callahan punched the inside of the door out of sheer anger.
Michael Callahan: Anthony... I've just learnt the hard way that you don't know what you have until it's gone. I offered you a place alongside me to form the power team that could've remoulded the entire foundations of this company for the better and you declined. I can't tell you that you're going to be able to empathise with me because you never accepted our alliance, you never “had it” to begin with, from which you can feel remorse at the loss. Instead, I'm going to make you regretful for wasting opportunities that men like me had to scratch and claw for. I didn't grow up rich Anthony, I got here of my own tenacity and volition and at Christmas Chaos I'm not going to make you regret what you've lost... but regret what you have, an enemy that's going to do everything in his power to shatter your spirit and make you rue the day you ever thought you could treat me as poorly as you did.
Callahan's tires screeched as he slammed on the breaks, clearly driving way too fast.
Michael Callahan: There is nothing I will not stop at to make you see the error of your ways, no line I won't cross. You're gonna' learn that saying no to Michael Callahan is NOT the done thing. You won't be the first, you won't be the last, but I'll take great delight in making the ultimate example of you in what happens to people who think they can show me disrespect. That, Anthony Bailey, is a promise. If you thought my previous attacks, our previous encounters was anything to go by? That's not a jot of what I'm going to inflict upon you at Christmas Chaos... you truly have not seen ANYTHING yet.
With that, the tape cut off and the harrowing words of Callahan were left to reverberate through your head. This is a match that would feature no commercials and no mercy. Careers were going to be shortened, injuries were going to happen and Callahan was going to see to it that he did everything in his power to destroy The Golden Boy.
It was four AM on the edge of Kelso town at Camp Callahan and Michael Callahan himself was unable to rest. Wearing nothing but a night gown, he typed away at his computer unaware of Steve Fukuyama walking into the room until he cleared his throat as noisily as possible. Callahan knew the sound a mile away and could instantly recognise the hacking.
Michael Callahan: What do you want? It's been a long day...
Steve Fukuyama: You did, I've come to get my stuff. I've got a new job and I'm moving to New York.
Michael Callahan: Good for you. What do you want?
Steve Fukuyama: I wanted to thank you and repay my debt.
Callahan braced as Steve reached into his pocket, expecting a fire-arm or knife. Instead, his former assistant brandished a travel brochure and placed it on the desk in front of him. On the front it said in big letters, “WELCOME to Avery County” superimposed over a ranch.
Michael Callahan: What the-
Steve Fukuyama: Go there. Talk to the people. Learn the place. That flier is the key to your destiny. Trust me.
Michael Callahan: You want me to go to some hick town in South Washington?
Steve Fukuyama: Just trust me Michael, you won't regret it.
Michael Callahan: Avery County... Interesting.
With that, Steve left. No sooner was he out the room, Vikki Lahm emerged from another room wearing a purple silk nightgown that just about covered the top of her thighs. With a Martini in her clutches, she slipped an arm around Michael who still held the brochure in his hand.
Vikki Lam: Coming to bed dear?
Michael Callahan: Right you are...
Michael and Vikki's lips met, only for Callahan to lift Vikki up in his powerful arms and carry her away to the bedroom as the series finally came to a close...
