Post by chaos lite on May 20, 2013 7:29:12 GMT -4
”Forget the Sindicate, as a staff, faction, and a crew... and if you wanna be down with Sindicate, forget you too.”
-Anthony R. Bailey
may.20.thirteen5:23am
”What exactly defines a bad guy? Because I think I’m a little confused, and behind on the lingo.
Is the ‘bad guy’ the person that picks and chooses her spot in this business, and makes the right decisions, and gets the right results? Or is the ‘bad guy’ the person that sits behind a computer screen and criticizes somebody else- makes threats to a vulnerable woman on Twitter?
WHO is the bad guy, really?
I’ve asked myself that, a lot. I asked myself WHY I was getting booed by the audience all of a sudden, and why people that used to respect me, and used to fight alongside me here in APW suddenly... suddenly hate me, and I thought that it was because somewhere down the road, between tasting gold for the first time with that North American Title, and experiencing failure back at Christmas Chaos... maybe I had become a bad person.
And I thought about it.
And I didn’t change anything about myself. I still put the egotists in their place. I still won by any means necessary. I still left a trail of chaos wherever I went.
The only difference? I changed the people I did it to. Instead of big, bad men like Michael Lively and Young Mannie, I was turning my sights on the real threats in APW like Anthony Bailey and Jair Hopkins. Hopkins and Bailey, the co-founders of the most arrogant, all-exclusive group in APW history, the Dying Breed.
I threw the first punch, but that danger was always there. They were always a group of obnoxious, violent misfits... I just validated them. I gave somebody like Jair Hopkins a reason to be angry, because I was taking from him. I was taking his dignity. I was taking his gold. I was taking food off of his plate. And why did I do it?
I guess because I’m the bad guy.
I lost my temper after Christmas Chaos, because I KNOW that Logan and I should have walked away as the Tag Team Champions that night. We were the last team standing, but- but what ended up happening? I was chased off when my partner needed me... I was attacked, and chased through the backstage area when my partner was down, and I did everything in my power to get back to the ring fast enough- but it just wasn’t enough. I got back there, and I made a mistake.
I thought I could find victory by climbing to the top of a ladder. I thought that maybe a little emphasis at the end of my match, by doing some sort of spectacular, death-defying move on Donald Deruty and Jair Hopkins was the right way to go. But it wasn’t. I suffered because of it. Hopkins recovered first... and he got his hands on that ladder... and he pushed, and shoved, and nearly put me out of commission. Donald Deruty was never the same after that fall- he ended up having to take time off.
You... Jair... I’m talking to you...
I fought through the pain from that night, for months. I woke up in the middle of the night, screaming in pain, for months after what happened, and what hurt the most was that I knew it wasn’t your fault, Jair. You were doing exactly what I would’ve done in the same situation, except you were lucky enough to be on the positive end of it. You crawled through shit and came out on the other side smelling like daisies... while Logan and I had nothing to show for it, except some gnarly battle scars and a story about how we almost became the Tag Team Champions.
Not. Again.
...no, this week, things are ending differently. I don’t know what kind of match the fans are going to choose for the Super Show on Monday, but no matter what it is, we’ll be ready. There’s nothing that you can throw at us this week that Logan and I haven’t seen somewhere, sometime before. You can’t hit us any harder than we’ve been hit somewhere, sometime before.
And you guys are really good, you truly are; but Logan and I are great. We were destined to be and we won’t settle for anything less. I won’t allow that. And we understand what hangs in the balance this week... whoever loses this match is effectively taken out of the Tag Team Title picture. I don’t know how long that lasts... it could be, for as long as the other team as the champions. It could be until Sienna gets out of that position she’s in now. Who knows? This whole situation is risky. But in the end...
You’re the ones taking the risks.
Without those Tag Team Championships in sight, the Dying Breed could crumble, now when you need each other more than ever. Now that Williams has no direction, and he’s become just as arrogant and rude as the two of you... now that Jair’s in rehab... Bailey’s your rock, and his mystique has gone too. Last night, Jason Kash already showed the world that Bailey’s far from invincible. Far, far from it.
You signed your championships away when you signed those contracts, babies...
Jair, you knew you wouldn’t be in any mental condition to fight us- not that you ever really have been before. You’re an emotional wreck, and a loss like this, accompanied by that disfiguring, debilitating pain could send you right over the edge, and I know all about the edge, Jair. I’m there now.
But I like it there. There’s no guilt on the edge, and there’s nobody whispering in your ear, second guessing every decision you make.
I like the thrill of knowing that when I march through those hallways at whichever arena APW has traveled to... knowing that there’s somebody out there that wants to get me- knowing that someone’s always thinking about me. Always.
I like it when you’re mad.
I like it when you want to hurt me.
I like it when you do get your hands on me...
Because it always ends with you losing more than you ever thought you would... Jair, I’ve learned how to handle dealing with the edge and I use it to my advantage inside the ring, and out of it. I know I’m not perfect. I know I have meltdowns out there sometimes, and one time, it cost me my Suicidal Championship. Another time, it caused me to break my ribs... it prevented me from getting my championship back, and sometimes, I hate myself for it. Sometimes, I hate the fucking... edge... because I make these stupid fucking decisions...
FUCK...
...but I WON’T anymore!
I want my fucking babies back! I want my Tag Team Championships back now!
Did you see what Logan did last night? He won the Tap Out Championship, and he beat Michael Lively to do it. He did it within minutes. He’s ready! He’s READY to fight... Logan is one hundred percent... but not you two. Jair, you were, haha, absolutely pulverized at the beginning of the night.
Anthony? I don’t even know where to begin. I don’t know what’s more hurt... your body, or your self-esteem. There’s no shame in losing to Jason Kash, but I know how much it meant to you. I know how you needed that match. And, I know your pride won’t allow you to do anything but try to take your loss in stride... you’re smart enough to know that your mind shouldn’t be on Mayhem, but here, with us. With the Tag Team Championships. With Jair. With me.
Your body doesn’t know that though.
I believe on Twitter last night, you said you were going to... and I quote, ‘choke me out.’
...and then I looked back at our conversation, and I hadn’t done anything to provoke you. I hadn’t said a word ABOUT you all weekend, because before Sunday, my mind was on Mayhem. My mind was on making sure that Christian Kane, Logan Alexander, and Terry Marvin stood united at the end of the night.
My mind was on the New Sindicate.
You know... the bad guys.
But just because I associated myself with Terry Marvin and the Sindicate, suddenly, I deserved to be choked for my decision.
Anthony, you said ‘forget the Sindicate, as a staff, faction, and a crew, and if you wanna be down with Sindicate, forget you too.’ We hadn’t said a NEGATIVE WORD ABOUT YOU, but here you come, running your mouth, ready to point the finger at ME for being a ‘witch’ when all I wanted to do... was go out there... and kick your ass, just like our wrestling foremothers and fathers WANTED us to in this business.
And you slandered us.
Why?
Is it because no one’s been able to defeat M&M two-on-two? Is that why? Do you feel the need to try to demoralize us before the fans choose our fate at the Super Show?
...baby, I’ve had people picking on me, talking shit about me, trying to keep me down before I even knew how to apply a goddamn headlock, so fuck your words. Fuck you. Fuck what you have to say. Fuck Jair. Fuck KRUNK wherever the fuck he is, and fuck your entire clique.
Babies, we’re going to test your strength tonight, and we’re going to see if your brotherhood is as strong as you claim it is after you lose the championships. Even with a fractured rib, I’ll make sure that Logan and I make it through whatever stipulation, and whatever bullshit thrown our way, and we take back our Tag Team Championships by any means necessary. We’re bringing it home to the Sindicate.
I know that your pride tells you to fight. And I know how dangerous a fight like that can be. I’ve seen what you guys can do...
I woke up in pain every night because of what you guys can do.
But my advice to you, is this: don’t try to be heroes tonight on Meltdown, babies. Don’t try to compromise the bad guys. Because in the end, all we’re going to get is a good fight... a great fight behind the future stars of this company in a heated battle between ‘good’ and ‘evil’. The ending’s already been decided though.
The bad guys win. Babies...
Run like hell.”
run, run, run, run, run, run, run, run
may.20.thirteen7:02am
”Happy birthday to you...”
I fucking hate that. Why the fuck is she doing that?
”Happy birthday to you...”
I wish she would shut up.
”Happy birthday, Dear Aubrey...”
Maybe I should let her finish. I guess that’s what a good friend would do.
”Happy biiiiiiirthdaaayyyy toooooooo-”
”That’s enough.”
I looked up at my best friend of twenty years, Cassandra McPherson, with my weak, but honest attempt at a smile. She was holding a cake in her shaky hands, with (count’em) twenty-five candles wedged into the center, which was a modest, homemade (or, hotel suite-made) cake... smelled like chocolate. I wouldn’t object.
Her eyes drifted down toward the flames, expectantly, and with my best effort I blew out all twenty-five of those goddamn candles. It wasn’t easy.
I wished for my fucking Tag Team Titles back. Obviously.
”Thank you, ha.”
I allowed her to place it on the table and threw my arms around her in a hug.
”Seems like you’re moving around a little faster!”
”Yeah, I didn’t go through too much last night... wasn’t the intention.”
I frowned a little as Cassandra licked a whip of frosting from her thumb, but was unable to silence myself before a small, maybe-a-little-condescending laugh escaped from my mouth.
”Cass, it’s like 7 in the morning. I love the cake, but... is it a little early?”
”Couldn’t sleep. Got started on it a couple of hours ago. Eat it! Cake for breakfast, bitch- pretend we’re in elementary school again.”
Something irked me about the latter half of that comment. I’m not sure what it was. I felt compelled to argue, but what the hell... why fight cake? That was when something had crossed my mind.
”Hey, where’s my phone?”
”Oh- it’s in the bathroom. Mine died, so I used it to call Peter. Sorry.”
”It’s fine. I’m gonna-”
”Hey...”
”Yeah?”
She hesitated before she finished her thought, but gave me a smile... one that was just as weak as the one I gave her earlier.
”You told Dr. Norman you’d call him today, remember?”
”...Cass, it’s my birthday. I don’t think I should have to-”
”You promised me and Talon that you would.”
”I know, but-”
”Please? Look... He heard about the Jair situation, and he thinks it’s great that you guys are going through something similar, because- because this could be a chance for you to connect with somebody positive in the sport instead of... enablers... like... Terry Marvin and Christian Kane.”
I don’t remember what look I gave her. Mind you, I was fully aware that my left eye was twitching uncontrollably.
”WE ARE NOT GOING THROUGH SOMETHING SIMILAR! He is a junkie! He tried to KILL himself. I’m just-”
”A little bit crazy?”
”I didn’t know you wanted to fight today.”
”That’s something a crazy person would say.”
Crazy.
”Why are you doing this?”
Crazy.
”I just want you to call Dr. Norman. He’s just trying to help. We’re all just trying to help.”
Crazy.
I didn’t have anything to say to her. I looked at Cassandra for a while, and I felt myself shaking. I felt it in my hands... in my leg. I couldn’t hide it. My knee was drumming against the table, rattling it.
Crazy.
”Just a ten minute conversation, and then the rest of the day is yours. And then... tonight, you go and you win those Tag Team Championships back.”
Crazy.
”Ffff...fine.”
So I went to make my call, but I knew before I even agreed to it, that I was lying.
may.20.thirteen7:12am
I stood in the bathroom and I looked at myself for a long time. At least, I think it was a long time... I was losing time again. I couldn’t separate the minutes, from the seconds, from the hours...
My palms were sweaty. I could feel my mouth growing dry. I could feel my heart beating faster. I saw the color drain from my face, only to be found again in my cheeks. Red. Shaking knees.
Oh my God. Am I having a fucking panic attack?
I reached for the faucet and turned the water on. The sound, and the cool mist rising up from the basin were enough to ease the anxiety... and I laughed.
For a few seconds, or minutes, or maybe even hours I sat there with my elbows resting over the marbel of the Brazilian hotel sink, and I laughed. I don’t think Cassandra could hear me over the combination of the fan and the sink. I couldn’t even hear me.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
With reflexes that my softball coach would’ve cried for, I snatched my phone from the edge of the sink. I looked down at the caller... LOGAN. And I let it ring for a little bit longer, in my hand, because I couldn’t believe my luck. It was some sort of psychic bond... it definitely was. Tell me otherwise and I’ll tell you to go fuck yourself. Logan was there when I needed him- and it was about twenty seconds into the continuous ringing that I found that the best thing to do, was answer. Silly.
”Logan?”
”Hey. G’morning... Cass drive you crazy with the birthday wishes yet?”
”Logan, we have to do this.”
”...Yeah. I know.”
”I don’t want you to leave.”
”I didn’t plan on it.”
”And if we lose, we can’t... we can’t...”
”I believe I referred to it as a ‘useless fixture’ yesterday.”
I nodded, even though I knew he couldn’t see it.
”I can’t.”
”...win or lose, I’m not going anywhere, Aubrey. We never needed the gold to accomplish what we wanted. We said we wanted to make tag team wrestling in APW important again... and I think we had a hand in doing that. We said we wanted to come back- give this wrestling thing another shot. We said we wanted to do it together.”
”And... and we did that.”
”And not everybody liked it. But we did it together.”
”But-”
”The gold would be nice... and I’ll fight until my hands our bleeding until we get it back tonight... but don’t let it make or break us. Don’t.”
I was used to Logan being suggestive with his metaphors... with his lessons, but this was blatant, and it was comforting. I appreciated it, and I should’ve smiled. Maybe a good person would’ve.
But a bad person gets filled with anger. I was angry.
”We shouldn’t be in this situation.”
For a while, there wasn’t an answer on the other line, but eventually Logan’s voice chimed back in over the receiver.
”We are. And we’re here together. Just like the beginning.”
”...just like always...”
”You’re ready.”
In the past, these conversations ended with that question- but this time it wasn’t a question. This time it wasn’t an option. This time, I didn’t need to warn Logan about how good our opponents are, and he didn’t have to warn me. We knew what we were getting into... and scarily, we knew what we were possibly getting out of.
”You’re ready.”
”Always.”
I smiled. Honestly.
”Good.”
And in those moments, where I lost time, where I felt the world escape me, I felt that there was one- one small thread holding me steady... and for so many days, I could feel that thread breaking.
Not today.
Today, it would be stronger than ever.
”They have no idea...”
fin.
