''One's'' Flames of the inferno (Part II)

[Level-Two]

‘’One’s’’ Flames of the inferno (Part II)

Corruption calls

‘’Hi, EWC offices calling. We would like to know if you would interested in meeting us at the table on a resigning of your contract that will be done in a few months. You have been a big part of our company, and we would love to have you remain the cornerstone of our federation…’’

I stood in the middle of the ring. Microphone in hand. It was time to shoot another promo, you know the deal, walk around the ring, hold the microphone to your lips; and speak to the millions at home listening, but suddenly, those millions became thousands; and then thousands turned into small cults. Broken up by hardnosed fans refusing to let the product they loved die…

‘’Hello, EWC offices calling. It’s been a month now, and with only a few weeks left on your contract, you’re really starting to worry us. We have talked backstage, and despite our losses in revenue we will increase the contract price in hopes that you will remain in our company, please contact us ASAP, we hope to hear from you soon’’

‘’It was more than just the money’’ I spoke. ‘’This place has made me an animal, a beast, it’s fucked me up beyond belief. See, because all along I have been trying to be something I am not. I am trying to shine in places that were geographically meant to remain dark. I cannot beat this corruption with-out becoming corrupted my self. And then, look at you…’’ I look over the ropes out into the crowd. Virtually every seat is empty, I nod my head in shame. ‘’You’ve all been fooled’’ I said, dropping the microphone to the floor.

‘’EWC offices calling. It is clear that after our previous calls you have no interest in meeting with us at the table to renew your contract. Needless to say, after all the EWC has given you, we are quite disappointed with your actions. We wish you best in your future endeavors’’

I paced myself up the ramp; turning my head, a spark shone through my eyes. It was then and there that I knew walking through these curtains, leaving this all behind was the best decision for me. Call it selfish, call in unmoral, call it whatever the fuck you want. It was an empire. It was a legacy. It was something that had it’s foundation built so strong, yet not anymore immune to death then me, or you.

‘’I’m sorry…’’

To my ear; I held a phone.

‘’I must move on’’

The phone went dead.

‘’I know it hurts’’

Remembering my first world title rein…

‘’But I cannot go down with you’’

…feeling the end of my first title rein.

‘’It isn’t worth it’’

I remember the blood I had spilt…

‘’Let it go’’

I walked away; and never looked back.

‘’…Everything burns’’

---

They told me to never play with fire…

I stood amongst a small crowd; in an open grassy pasture. The rain drizzled softly, dripping from the dark clouds softly bouncing of the black umbrellas those in attendance held up over their head. Like an anti-social kid; I stood the furthest away from the group of people. After all, I didn’t even know them. I held no umbrella; they offered me one, but I had declined and through my hood over my head instead. The rain no longer bothered me.

I thought back to the newspapers. You know, the ones that remind me with a paragraph on the filth page that a man was killed. Those bullets were meant for me; yet I didn’t even taste the slightest bit of metal. Instead, I tasted guilt. Failure. I allowed these guys to run amuck around the city; firning shots meant for me, yet the innocents play the role of the Martyr. Apart of me felt no guilt. After all the man was a driver, a glorified chauffer to the stars of the world, but then the other part of me…

‘’Mommy, where’s daddy?’’ A little girl asked; catching me off guard. The mother holding an umbrella standing in front of her husbands coffin looks down at her daughter who now tugs on her coat. With a signal of a hand, a weep from the others to follow the mother only offers up a promise to answer the question later; as if this pain should be endured any longer.

Sure, I was a star. I was important. I had a life that was worth saving. But this man had kids; was it fair? If I ever needed a kidney, or a heart, or anything, with a simple down payment I’d be kicked up to the list—bumping names that the world has ever seen right off of it. I understood it; I just wasn’t sure if it was right. For one, I valued my life very little. I only learnt to feel empathy a few days ago; and I still don’t quite understand it. I guess, if I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t change. I feel like shit; but I don’t think I would ever take a bullet for that man, a man who died taking mine.

We engaged in a moment of silence; which felt like the longest hour in my life. The others stood with their head bowed, and their eyes closed; I finally raised mine up high with my eyes wide open. Brian Mc Phee had taken this beyond any measures I could imagine. I would give back any club, any money, or anything he feels I have ever taken from him to restore the balance he had broken…

…but only if he was to return the lives he had taken away in return.

And we know that once you meet the face of death; there is no coming back. Brian had drawn the line in the blood; I had very little choice in choosing on whether or not I was going to step over it. It was risky, a huge risk. Brian knew everything about me; for a solid year he determined where I went, he knew where I lived, and apart of my life became his. I guess it explains his evil. But there was no risk I wasn’t going to take; after all, every second we spend breathing—we are one breath closer to death.

---

I stood outside the funeral gates; mother nature still keeping an even flow of steady rain, each of it’s droplets seemingly getting colder upon the touch of my skin. The hood of my jacket remains down; as the rain drips down my face; snakes around my eyes, skates along my cheeks and the drips onto the concrete creating a ripple in the puddle of water, which is brave enough to show my dull reflection. The last mirror to do that, well…it wasn’t pretty.

Nothing special. Nothing worth remebering. Just a mortal, a man, a mere wrestler.

Footsteps pounced along the puddle of water behind me. I didn’t look back. Perhaps it was a lack of reflexes, or maybe it was a sign of trust; but most likely, it was stupidity given the circumstances. After Brian’s assassination attempt; it would’ve been wise to wear a set of eyes in the back of my head. The footsteps stopped right beside me; a soft arm skinning mine. I slowly turned my head to see a lady in a black jacket; with a black cap over her head. She wore a set of long blonde hair which slipped down to her back.

‘’How about this weather?’’ The women casually asked. She had a smooth tone. Pure, yet seductive in a way.

‘’It’s shit’’ I replied. Looking up in the air; at the dark clouds. ‘’There was a time where I hated the rain..’’ I spoke. The words meant nothing to her; she looked down at the concrete momentarily, before flashing her focus back on me.

‘’…Well why don’t you hate it anymore?’’ She quizzed. I looked at her and shrugged my shoulders.

‘’I have found too many other things to hate’’ I replied in a dull-sandpaper tone. ‘’You know, the typical delivery guy who messes up your order. The guy who bumps into you while walking down the street; and the assholes you seem to run into everyday at work’’ I replied masking my true feelings. If she really knew what I hated; it would probably scare her away.

‘’You can’t be that trivial’’ She replied; gazing into the street in-front of us; while a green car roars on by; I fought back a smile, she saw right through my words. ‘’You know, I saw you back at the service. I don’t think I know you; nobody else seemed to either. What brings you here?’’ She asks. I felt guilty already, as if she thought I was a shooter or something.

‘’Look, I knew very little about the murder…’’ I blurted out. Damn it. It was a lie really.

‘’You seem to know more than your putting on…’’ She quickly brought up. ‘’Don’t get so offended. I am sure if you were truly behind the trigger; you wouldn’t be stupid enough to show to the mans funeral, or am I wrong?’’

I shook my head. ‘’Not at all’’ Slipping my hands in my pocket; I sighed. ‘’It was a senseless murder; that man didn’t have to die that way…’’

‘’That man is my uncle’’ She casually corrected me before continuing on. ‘’To be honest; I didn’t shed a single tear’’ she claimed to my surprise. I took a long look at her. She was young, not too young. 19, 20, maybe 21, and good looking enough to date on top of all that according to most men’s standers.

‘’Really, and why is that?’’ I countered.

‘’He was an alcoholic, an adulterer, not to mention he raped me when I was six-teen’’ My heart dropped. Racing quickly, as I stammered up some thought for some reasonable reply…

‘’That sucks…’’ Fuck me senseless! Is that honestly the best I could come up with?

She flashed me a long confused look. ‘’Yeah…well, you know if it wasn’t for my parents I probably wouldn’t be here. If you ask me, the son of a bitch deserved every bullet’’ I nodded my head and looked away. Here I was mourning the death of the man, yet his life on earth seemed to be the scummiest of them all, if what this women was saying was really true. I couldn’t even sympathize with the right people, perhaps this good guy image, the one the world sees as acceptable, simply is unreal for me. I am not pure.

‘’Well…I’m going to run now’’ She stated; as a nose of a cab peered it’s way through the fog down the street.

‘’Alright’’ I replied. The cab pulled up my the curb; as she took a step forward. I reached out grabbing her by her arm. ‘’…your name is?’’ I asked, as she let out a small grin. She reached into her purse, pulling out a small piece of paper, slipping it into my hand.

‘’I get that often’’ She laughs softly, before opening up the cab door, slipping inside. I took a few steps away from the curb, as the taxi peeled away from the curb; I watched her leave as she waved back at me, I flashed a humble nod.

Patricia Lewis…

As for this man? An alcoholic, and adulterer and rapist? Here I was mourning this mans death; feeling sorry, almost wishing I took a bullet if it meant saving this guys life. Yet, perhaps he deserved to die. Still, something remained unsettling about the entire situation. Through the cars on fire; the screams of the ambulance, and the smell of gun powder that man died in my arms. And while Patricia’s comments would stick with me for a few days, this line would remain embedded in my head forever.

‘’I couldn’t have picked a better time for this to all happen. I die…I die a better man’’
--

‘’Let us sleep’’

Let’s take a trip down memory lane...

There has been a big misconception of me. Many folks believe I am a well chiseled vet; with plenty of experience under my belt; but the truth is? My career started about two years ago. In the super promotion that WAS the Extreme Wrestling Corporation. I remember the pre-match jitters; I remember the butter flies bumping the core of my intestines before the match. And most importantly, I remember the excitement. I could only imagine that Pence is feeling the same way.

I mean, two years later—I am the guy people want to face. I am on virtually every dream match list you could find. And yet; Pence Weatherlight upon his debut is granted something men twice his caliber would DIE for. I don’t quite know how he will treat this opportunity, my belief is that he will bring his past baggage over to the APW; and we will all have to gawk, roll our eyes, and curse under our breaths after having to hear about all of it. Save us the trouble, Pence.

My estimation however; is as follows. Here I stand in the darkened night right out in front of EWC’S headquarters. Where I stood out here for four hours; pence. Four fucking hours just to get the chance to talk to President Mac himself. I spent another two sitting across that piece of shit trying to negotiate a deal where I would be paid just above minimum wage. In that contract entailed my debut match. It would be a week AFTER Stranglemania, because Mac simply didn’t have time to find me a match where I could debut my talent on the biggest stage of them all. To add salt to the wounds, I had been thrown into the rush main-event and forced to work with some fucking cannon fodder, I never heard after I had beaten him.

Oh, but look? Level-One was always the golden child. He was always the saving face of the company! And hey look what a surprise! He’s in the main-event in the APW, too. Wake up call. There wasn’t a damn thing ever given to me. Shadow Man, BDC, Deniro, Angel, and Blade. Those responsible for ‘’building’’ Level-One though, right? Tell me where the FUCK are they now, Pence? Further more, while he’s in the EWC fighting for the clusterfuck championship and whatever bullshit they through at him from keeping Pence from crying a river while Thaliana Rodriguez tries to drown her self in it; I’ve been on the top of wrestling empires proving to be more than just a single-stroke promotion champion.

As for Pence? He walks in here signing some six-figure contract immediately boosting his ego by default. Secondly, instead of doing anything to prove himself in the APW he’s also granted with a main-event match for a debut. So, not only does he get a comfortable contract he also receives his own terms too. Well, if he thinks he’s beating me on overdrive, and then pulling the ‘’put the title on the line’’ shtick, he’ll be sent packing his ass back to the EWC, where he would bleed for no one watching, wins when nobody cares, and rakes in a couple of dollars that would only be pocketed by Mac who is eating a sundae; in between removing an oversized pimple off his left ass cheek.

Pence, let’s take a walk. Through an open door; I walk into the EWC head quarters. The first thing I notice is that there is no security. It’s clear this place is virtually dead; either they couldn’t afford to pay them or the place was deserted. For one thing, the floors were clean—Mac must’ve used the window optional.

You want to call this trespassing? See, Pence. The Extreme Wrestling Corporation, isn’t your federation. Before you were opening up the show; I was in the main-event. Before you were beating Shadow Man in tag-matches, I was getting the job against him in singles matches. Besides Shadow Man passing President Mac hand jobs for marketshare, I pretty much ran this promotion. I sold tickets, I put asses in seats, and I brought entertainment.

I have already heard Mr. Weatherlight come on tape with claims that I ditched the place in the limbo. Well the truth is; I did. Even Crazy Man was smart enough to walk away when he did. See, while Pence maybe hung up on ‘’loyalty?’’ I am hung up on actually wrestling where a promotion as both talent and potential. You could pour all the life blood you want into the EWC life veins, its heart is already dead and gone.

Still, if he’s ready to lynch me over leaving, I’ll give Pence the fucking rope. When it comes down to it, Level-One didn’t kill the EWC. Don’t give me so much credit, for one. Secondly, President Mac took the money he earnt off all our hard work, and took one long ass vacation, and now that he’s being sucked off by Mexican midgets, he isn’t ever coming back. Get the fuck over it, because I have along time ago, Pence. Does he really think a promotion could survive with-out the man who started it, and then virtually surrounded its entire foundations around his own roots?

Look at all these pictures that hang in this hall way. Do you see any familiarities? They’re all filled with two people. Shadow Man and President Mac. World titles; and Stranglemania posters. Where is my hard work, Pence? Where is all the respect for the stars who bled and sweat for the EWC to make it what is today? No where. Just two men, glory hogs from day one, and when they couldn’t have it the way they fucking wanted it, they took they’re ball and ran home.

Fuck the EWC.

…This is what you sit here and represent? Wake up, kid. You’re apart of the APW now. Unless, you’re just here to fuck with the world champ, and then be rude enough to never call me back? Here in the APW; you will be recognized for the work you’ve done. If there is one thing I know about President Jeff; is that he doesn’t mind staying in the back round like he’s supposed too. President Jeff doesn’t need to book himself in title matches, main-events, and make the entire show around him. More importantly; he isn’t stupid enough to take the credit for someone else’s work. Isn’t that right, Mr. Mac?

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! My fists cut; blood leaking onto the floor, but I don’t mind. This history needs to be erased. Forgotten. The REAL men and women who had busted their asses are the ones who need to be recognized, not some egotistical, power hungry pig.

I never gave up on the EWC; the EWC gave up on me.

If Pence’s sole purpose is to exact some type of revenge on me; then I welcome him with open arms; he will receive none here. I do hope Pence’s decision to move on over to the APW wasn’t an ignorant, and at least a rational one, but I can’t be quite sure. I understand that he is signaling for my championship before he’s even walked into the door; but he can take the waiting line optional instead.

Pence must understand that the Level-One in the Extreme Wrestling Corporation has grown to be a bigger beast than he, or anyone else still entrapped in their sunken ship has witnessed before. You can call it hype. You can cue the overrated tag line everyone has been tossing to me lately; it means nothing when I can’t throw it in the win column along with your name however; so save us both the wasted time. My unbeaten streak speaks volumes; and your pussified screams will too.

I reach the end of the hall, it’s funny where life takes us, huh? The sign on the door reads ‘’President Mac’’ but that doesn’t stop me from thrusting open the door to his office. The office is large in size; behind a big table, a large glass window similar to something you’d find in a skyscraper over-looks the city down blow. I walk towards the glass window; my eyes traveling along the city streets; wondering which route Mac had taken out of here.

I had spent two years in the EWC Pence; and that is time I cannot get back. Sure, I won world titles. Sure, I started my career there. But the corruption that overhangs my head by the association with President Mac will forever tarnish anything, and everything I had done in the EWC. For me, I have been rebuilding. Starting over from scratch. For you? This should be a clean slate, don’t let President Mac’s dark cloud clout your judgment.

This is your time to prove yourself, kid. It’s your time to prove to me that the old pence in the Extreme Wrestling Corporation is nothing like the one who has stepped his foot; and gritted his teeth into the ever growing APW. For one, I thank you. With the downfall of the Extreme Corporation, I didn’t think I’d ever have the chance to fight another born and bred EWC’ER that once bled the way that I did for the company. I don’t think I could ever express my disappointment with President Mac to an APW crowd who ultimately wouldn’t care, or understand our past history. But me and you; we speak the same language.

My attention drifts away from the window. In calculated form I paced myself over to President Mac’s desk; sitting on his large leather chair before reaching under the desk; pulling out a bottle of kerosene; slamming it on the table top.

…We speak the same language pence, unfortunately only one of us knows how to listen.

No matter how long I sit here; and point out President Mac’s corruption, pence will fight for him. He will fight because all Pence knows is the Level-One that stormed the EWC like nothing mattered. Fucked everyone just to get a few steps further; a few inches closer to a world title or a main-event match. He already has created set image of me and believes he can break me, shake me, and beat me.

I have changed my formula.

I grab the bottle of kerosene untwisting the tap. Seated in Mac’s chair; I hold the bottle over my head; closing my eyes the liquid splashes off the top of my head; seeping onto my body below. A thud can be heard; as I toss the kerosene bottle carelessly to the side before stumbling my right hand through my pockets.

The APW is my home now; and I hope that one day, you shake these memories out of your head long enough that you can begin to see straight. I understand what you’re thinking, I really do. See, because no matter how much I don’t like it; I cannot destroy where I had came from. I can shit on the EWC for the corruption that Mac brought; but there was no denying that I was apart of his promotion. I had a hand in feeding the flames to the devil; and I’m just as bad as he is.

The only difference is, Pence. I am not going to run. If for the rest of my career; I will be overshadowed by the likes of the Extreme Wrestling Corporation, and the pieces of shit that ruled atop of it; then this career means nothing for me. If at the end of this all; in that head of yours… I am still the guy who you believed ‘’killed’’ the EWC?

I lift up my hand; exposing a lit match.

…Then take THIS as my repayment; and you can keep the fucking change.

I drop the match; hitting my body, immediately am I casted into a ball of flames. It was something out of the movie; as I sat up right, virtually burning to the crisp; although for a second; my soul felt a bit cleaner.

…and then I woke up. The sheets pulled up off of my face; my chest racing heavily, creating a sense of urgency with each breath.

‘’… everything burns…’’