Banned From Mexico, Welcome Back America

[Tommy Knox]

///Banned From Mexico, Welcome Back America\\\
Chapter XVI

"I'm done here in this cesspool. I'm goin' home."
- Knoxville -

Saturday 12:21 PM [February 2nd, 2013]
Mexico City, Mexico

The sky is blue as far as the eye can see. A few scattered clouds drift in the open air as the breeze slightly moves them along. Emptiness consumes the surrounding area as silence fills the air, along with dust blowing in the wind. We've been down this road before. Fifteen months since the last time we've found ourselves parked at this dead end looking for a place to turn around. Fifteen months, fifteen long months of refuge and filth in America's toilet.

A building in the distance stands alone with a few cars parked along the side of it. Bicycles rest on the ground as chickens circle without a sense of direction. Further in the distance, a small village sleeps on this hot day underneath the vengeful sun that beats down on all life below. Life breathes inside this building standing in solitude. Adrenaline is in the air.

Inside, a ring rests centered in chaos as people yell with every ounce of energy in their bodies. Two masked men tango within the ropes, fueled by the electricity creeping in the air. Wrestling is what they call it. To some, it just looks like Halloween has come early this year. As the two exchange hits, it becomes more and more apparent that one has the upper hand on the other. Just glancing at them one would notice an incredible difference in size, posture and foot movement.

Size seems to be playing a factor today. The larger masked man uses his size to his advantage and rushes in on the other with force. Grabbing him by the head, he throws him across the ring ripping his mask off in the process. As the smaller individual hits the mat the crowd goes silent as he holds his face down, covering the sides with his hands, in an attempt to disguise his true identity.

The match comes to a hault as the ref signals for the bell and two heavy-set men climb inside the ring from the entrance side. They move in closer to the larger masked wrestler as he backs himself into the corner hesitantly. The fans then begin to boo and throw bottles, trash, whatever they can grab inside the ring in displeasure of what they witnessed.

"What's the fuckin' problem?" the masked wrestler says as he pulls off his mask revealing himself to those who may recognize him. Tommy Knoxville, we haven't seen this guy in over a year now, this is where he's been hiding.

Out of nowhere, he lunges forward and sucker punches one of the men in the jaw knocking him to the mat. The other grabs Knoxville only to get knocked a few steps back with a headbuut straight to the nose. He holds his nose for a moment as blood runs down his chin just before Knoxville quickly follows up with a kick to the stomach. As the fans become enraged, Knoxville then plants the man head first in the mat with a powerful DDT.

The ref rushes in to get some distance in between Knoxville and the fallen men only to find himself in harms way. Grabbing the back of his head, Knoxville throws him to the ropes, sending him up and over to the outside crashing to the hard floor below.

More and more trash begins to pile up in the ring as the fans yell at the tops of their lungs in displeasure. Walking to the ropes, Knoxville yells down at the announcing table signaling for a mic. They toss one to him as he slowly backs up to the center of the ring and looks over all of the fans, sensing their hatred.

"Yo, shut the hell up! This is bullshit. It's a mask, nothing more." he says as this upsets the fans even more, the ones who can understand him that is. "I've given you people everything I have week after week for the past year now. One minute you love me, the next, you want to see me burn at the cross after a mishap. You know what though..." he pauses for a moment as the fans quiet down a bit waiting on the next words to roll off his tongue. "Fuck it, I'm done here in this cesspool. You people can kiss my ass. I'm goin' home."

He drops the mic to his side as he slowly walks to the ropes and exits under the ropes. Walking up the aisle the fans continue to throw trash at him as he makes his way towards the entrance. Arriving at the top of the ramp, he slowly turns back and looks over the crowd once more as he shakes his head from left to right just before turning his back to them and disappearing backstage.

Thirty minutes later...

Glass flies across the outside as a body rolls to the ground stirring up a cloud of dust. A broken window faces a small parking lot behind the building. Seven cars sleep side by side with one in particular standing out above the other rust buckets.
Drawing our attention away from the cars, a loud commotion is heard coming from the building as Knoxville runs through the broken window with a potatoe sack in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. He tosses them towards the cars and turns back to knock a couple of trash cans over in front of the broken window. He then turns back with a smile across his face.

Quickly grabbing the sack, he rushes to the black Dodge Charger sitting on black twenty-two inch wheels. Opening the driver door, he tosses the sack into the passenger seat before hopping in himself and closing the door behind him. Once inside, he hides himself behind the blacked out windows as a loud roar rumbles across the land and the engine fires up. This isn't stock, no way in hell. We'll get to what's under the hood another time, right now, we need to get the hell out of Dodge.

A few men rush towards the car as Knoxville slams it in reverse and backs out of his parking spot. Rolling the passenger windown down, he laughs putting the car in drive just before throwing the men the middle finger and speeding off leaving nothing but a cloud and dust trail behind. As the men come to a stop, they throw a few rocks at the car but miss. One then bends over and picks up a dollar bill where Knoxville threw the potatoe sack.

Inside the car, "American High" by Machine Head is blasting over the custom sound system inside. Looking over to his right, Knoxville opens the bag and looks inside with a grin from ear to ear. Inside, a pile of money sits with two championship belts folding within one another. "Mother fuckers..." he says as he closes the bag and looks ahead at the open road before him.

His phone then begins to ring with "Anonymous" on the caller ID. With a puzzled look on his face he turns the music down and picks the phone up raising it to his ear. "What's up?" he answers as his facial expression changes. "It's been a while brother. You're the last person I expected to hear from." He listens for a moment before turning onto the main highway and accelerating. "I'm actually south of the border right now. Let me give you a call when I get back to the weed shop."

He listens for another moment before laughing, "Awesome! I might have to take you up on that offer. I need to get back in the game up there, it's a joke down here if you ask me. Do that for me, talk to the powers that be and put in a word for me." Listening for a second he pulls out a nicely rolled spliff from the console and places it between his lips. "I've been away from that shit for over a year now, it's all good. I've been workin' on a comeback, just been adding a few new tricks to the arsenal down here in my spare time from the clinic. Look it though, let me holla when I get back in the states."

Lowering the phone from his ear, he tosses it in the console and pulls out a lighter. Raising it, he flicks his thumb and ignites a flame that he slowly lights the joint with. Tossing the lighter aside, he takes a couple nice drags before grabbing the phone again and resting it between his ear and shoulder.

"Rico, it's me." Silence consumes the vehicle for a brief moment before Knoxville interrupts. "I have quite a bit actually. Yea, this trip has been good for me. The new strain should hit the streets here in a few months. So there's that cash and oh yea, I just lifted some merchandise you might be interested in. I'll throw it in with a discounted two points for you to get into the states for me. Consider it a gift." He nods his head briefly before replying. "I'll see you in about an hour then."

"WWhhhoooo!!!" he yells as he tosses the phone in the passenger seat and cranks the volume up on the radio banging his head. Suddenly, the head banging stops as he remembers the joint burning away in his steering hand. He then raises it to his lips again and takes a monster drag. Coughing, the music continues to play and the engine rumbles as he speeds down the highway, weaving in and out of cars passing them by.

Outside the vehicle, smoke rolls from the slightly cracked passenger window as the car begins to travel at a faster rate leaving nothing but "HIGHMIND" in peoples view from the license plate. It was a good day. Now, it's time to go home and get back in the habit of competition. America, here he comes.

///AMERICAN HIGHLIFE\\\
February 9th, 2013 [•REC]

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, tokers of all ages.
The time has come, the stage is set, now to rewrite the history pages."

"Been gone for a while, kickin' it down south, smokin' nothin' but the best.
Now I'm back, proud to be home, let's begin this game of chess."

"It's been too long, it is what it is, I can't change the facts.
One thing's for sure, to sum in two words, I'm bbaaaaaaaack..."

"Enough with the theatrics. You all know who I am, well, at least some of you do. I see a lot of faces have changed here since I've been off the grid. No worries here, it's just another day at the office for yours truly. It's the same shit, just a different show. I'll be honest with you though. I missed this place while I've been traveling down south, through the depths of America's asshole. Things didn't quite go the way I had wished over a year ago but it is what it is. I can't change the past but I can direct the future. My debts are erased and my slate is clean. It's time to pick up where I left off."

"A few days ago I received a call from an anonymous friend. Out of nowhere the phone rang and this guy was on the other end. Who would have ever fuckin' imagined? Not this fuckin' guy, not me. Anyway, to make a long story short, I've been invited to come back with this new wrestling style I've become accustomed to south of the border. It's an art form, without a doubt. Sure, I'll still be glad to slap you around, toss you from one side of the ring to the other and break your neck at the first chance I get but now I have a totally new mix of weapons in my arsenal. What I'm prepared to show APW brings a totally new meaning to American Highlife. It's not just a state of mind anymore, it's a way of life!"

"I've been through it all. My career has had it's ups and downs, it's good and bad and has even bottomed out in the depths of hell, someone's pocket. Through all these trials I've still managed to find points of influence on my way to where we stand right now. I don't regret my past, it's made me the man that I am today. It took years of agony to realize that I'm better than what I've presented for myself along this journey. I'm tired of just settling for average or what's expected of me. No more, all that ends right here, right now. If you think you know me, think again. There's only one, maybe two people here who truly know me. The rest of you are fuckin' clueless. Eat a dick! Enough about myself though, we have a long road ahead of ourselves for you to learn just who I am and to be influenced by it. Although I've been here once before, it's time to start from scratch. Monday night on Meltdown I get to step in the ring with four other punks in what might, should I say definitely, will become the most exciting match of the evening. It doesn't matter where my match is placed whether if be mid-card, low-card or main event, at the end of the night my match will be remembered the most. We all have to start somewhere and before too long, my reign at the top will come. Until then, I just have to crack a few skulls and make a name for myself. It's one thing to talk the talk, but you can bet your ass I can walk the walk. This battle royal is only the beginning."

"Five men total, only one will walk away with their hand raised in victory. Let's start with Nathanial Strong, the boxer. Stong, I've been in this game for a few years and believe me, it's goin' to take more than a few jabs to make a name for yourself, let alone become a wrestling champion. I'm not goin' to count you out completely. If there's one thing I've learned on this journey, it's to not take anyone lightly. You and have something in common though. While on my adventures down south, I've dipped my toes in the world of unlicensed fighting a time or two. It's exciting, the thrill of pounding another mans face into nothing more than a bloody pulp. It's not goin' to get you far, though. Sure, it might help in some cases but when you're standing across from a true wrestler who knows the ring in and out, all the power punches in the world can't buy you a win. I'll entertain the thought of introducing your face to my fist if that makes you feel more within your comfort zone. I've been a fighter my whole life both in and outside the ropes, five minutes with you is all I need and then it's on to the next!"

"That being said, the next falls to a man who calls himself Dave Wilson. I've done a little homework on this cat and to be honest, I'm not finding much out there. For someone who has claimed so many world heavyweight championships as he says, he sure didn't bother to make a name for himself with the fanbase. Then again, what sort of fanbase does backyard wrestling really generate? Sure, you might draw a small crowd with the neighborhood kids but other than that, what's there to brag about? All jokes aside, Wilson, you pose no threat. I'll be completely honest, I'm not sweating it. With four other people in the ring the chances are we probably won't even make eye contact, let alone introduce my boot to your mouth. But, if we do go toe to toe, you're goin' to have your work cut out for you. Yea, you may outweigh me but I've taken out bigger, badder competition. I don't need to sit here and create lies about how great of a wrestling history and past I have, nothing more but a story of fiction. Mine has been in the gutter more than once, I've lived no easy life. That's the difference between you and I. I don't need to alter the truth about my past. I know what I've done and I know where I'm headed. I'm here to create a future for myself."

"Drivin' that train, headed for pain. Casey James ain't ready, comin' at you with speed. Trouble ahead, trouble behind. And you know that notion just crossed my mind... Then there's this fuckin' guy. Mr. "Blackheart" Casey James, you're next in line. I thought about doin' some homework on you brother but then I thought to myself, what's the point. When it comes to me preparing for future matches I don't find myself dwelling on the past of opponents involved. I focus on gettin' myself ready, both physically and mentally. I've been out of the game here in the states for a little over a year now but don't let that fool you. I've done some soul searchin' down south and found myself gettin' mixed up with the aerial arts of wrestling with luchadors across the land. I've always been an "in your face, close combat" wrestler but now I've brought a whole new aspect to my wrestlin' style. I have no fears or regrets about puttin' my body on the line to defeat a foe. When it comes to winnin', I do it by any means necessary. If I break this or sprain that, who cares. As long as I'm walkin' out with my hand held above the others that's all that matters. I've adopted this daredevil mentality over the past year and aim to use it to my benefit on this return to reclaim who I once was. The best thing you could do is to steer clear from me. I won't hesitate to lay you out."

"Last but surely not least, we have Majik. I'm not goin' to waste either of our times here. I'll simply ask you to refer to what I had to say to James. Unlike all the others, you have quite an interesting past. It's nothin' that I'm goin' to lose sleep over or anything but interesting to say the least. If you are in fact who you are believed to be, no worries here man. I've had my bumps in the road with more ruthless, goombah fucks than you could possibly ever be. To be honest, one in particular is the reason I hit rock bottom over a year ago. This fuckin' guy ruined my career here in APW. I guess that's what happens when you get in debt with the wrong people. All that's behind me now. If I could survive that one particular person, you should be a walk in the park. I have nothin' left to fear in this world. Between you and me, I welcome death with open arms. You'll find that out for yourself though when you realize that I'm willin' to sacrifice my body at any means necessary to win. People don't get remembered for losing, but climbing to the top and making a name for yourself, that's what people remember."

"With that said, I'm anxious to meet you all in that ring Monday night at Meltdown. I've been waiting for this day for over a year now and none of you miserable dicks are goin' to take it away from me. You can try, but like anything else, you'll fail. Look forward to meetin' you all face to face. Don't let your mouth write checks that your ass can't cash."