Sail Into The Black

[Tommy Knox]

SAIL INTO THE BLACK
"... wham bam thank you ma'am!"

Stepping back in the ring had been nothing more than a distant memory in his rearview mirror for Knox. His time had passed a long time ago, growing smaller and getting further behind him as life continued. He didn't hang onto the memories as wrestlers before him still do to this day after walking away from it all. Life goes on, plain and simple, and Knox lived it to the fullest each and every day.

With the club still awaiting trial and turning their backs to him, he still had his business to attend to in California. The marijuana business was booming and with outside states making decisions to legalize it across the board, the opportunity to expand was there for the taking. Legal or not, the money is there to be taken, you just have to know the right people.

For the last few months, Knox had taken a side gig with 4 Corners Wrestling. As said before, his time had passed in the ring but being in the business for a decade, he knew the ins and outs. He knew the tastes that these wrestlers get while traveling from city to city, living out of a suitcase, some wanting to keep their noses clean while others indulging in mind and body altering substances.

So, he hadn't been away from the business completely and even if he had been, it's not something that you're just going to forget. No matter how long someone steps away, when they return, it's just like riding a bicycle. Sure, it may take a little bit to get used to it but after a while things just fall into place and the gears start turning. Everyone has their role in this business, cogs in place waiting their turn in line before being called into action.

After hearing that Action Packed Wrestling was going to be making a return for one night, a reunion as some would call it, the wrestling world was buzzing. After closing its doors a year and a half ago, the majority of talents spread out, each seeking their own opportunities with various promotions. Some excelled while others struggled to pick up the pieces, but people were still living the dream. So when those words seeped into your ears and finally settled, it was only inevitable that many would want to lace them boots up for one last night under the APW banner.

Knox had bounced around from place to place after walking away from APW, he had always been a nomad. He had a few short runs in various promotions before taking a shot to the knee that sidelined him for quite a bit. Knee injuries are nothing to take lightly, after all, they support the entire weight of your body. Once coming to terms with it, he stepped away from the business. Fast forward to today, you can find him in 4CW getting his hands dirty to appease the hungers of a certain few.

After the announcement had been made, it didn't take long at all before his phone blew up with texts. With maintaining friendships after APW, it was only right that he would either hear it first from long time friend, Jason Cashe, or brother in arms and Black Hand representative, Chris Madison. The race was on. Who would he hear from first? Although Cashe and Knox went back quite a few years, from the moment Knox broke into the professional circuit, it was surprising that the news came from Madison.

One last match, side by side with the man he trusted above everyone else to have his back, the Black Hand would step into the ring for this reunion. Sure, he could trust Cashe in his corner but it's no secret that Knox hadn't been dependable when Cashe needed him the most. Even though the friendship was there, it wouldn't be a surprise if Cashe were to leave him hanging when most needed just for the simple fact that Knox had done it to him in the past. This wouldn't break ties between the two, in the end it would make for a good laugh, but Knox wasn't interested in this last match for laughs. The itch had overtaken him and the nomad was ready to come home for one last night.

Saturday 11:40 PM [May 30th, 2015]
Long Beach, California
[•REC]

"One last match with the madman himself, Chris Madison and I will be reunitin' in the ring." Knox said as he comes into focus, engulfed by a thick cloud of smoke. At the head of a table, he leans back in his seat, slouched to one side.

After taking a drink from the bottle of whiskey sitting in front of him, he slams it onto the table as the sound echoes, bouncing off of the walls in the empty, half lit room. Above the table, a drop light hangs from the ceiling burning down onto the hard wood, barely illuminating anything in its vicinity.

Holding up a spliff and placing it between his lips, he takes a deep drag as the cherry glows fiery orange. As the brightness dies down, he slowly pulls it away from his mouth, feeling that kick inside of his chest. "I was surprised when I heard word about a reunion show in the makin', caught off guard as a matter of fact. I had walked away at the peak of my career, leavin' it all behind for the lifestyle that had chosen me."

Slowly exhaling, he sits up in the seat, straightening his back before leaning forward and resting his elbows onto the table.

"A year and a half, it's hard to believe that it had been that long since I walked onto that stage and left it all in the ring. I know some people feel as if there is a hole in their hearts after those doors closed for good, sealin' themselves off from the rest of the world. It is what it is, life moves on. I've hopped around from place to place for a bit afterwards, just goin' with the flow. Where I am right now, in the ditches doin' the dirt, I'm happy with that. It's who I am. I don't pretend to be somethin' that I'm not. But, I'd be lyin' if I said the interest to lace them boots up for one final night wasn't grabbin' every bit of my attention."

Taking another drag from the spliff, he then rubs his beard for a brief moment before shaking his head back and forth slowly and reminiscing.

"I had some good times in APW, I do have to admit. After findin' myself in Mexico wrestlin' in filth, it felt good to come back up north and rejuvenate my career. I thought it was long gone, just ridin' the wave as it circled into the bottom of the toilet. It was a new lease on life and I grabbed that son of a bitch by the head and face fucked it without a second thought, no regrets, just wham bam thank you ma'am!"

Standing up to his feet, he takes a quick hit from the joint before setting it down in the ashtray. Kicking the chair back, he then places both hands onto the table. With his head down, he stands in silence for a moment before swaying his head back and forth, dragging the tips of his hair across the top of the table. He then pops his head up, flipping the hair out of his face and then looks into the video recorder with blood shot eyes.

"Enough with the past, I'm lookin' into the future at that one night in Charlotte, North Carolina. I'm not goin' to sit here and dwell on the past, what could have been and what never was. I'm happy with what I've done with my life. We learn from our mistakes and we move forward. This match isn't about tryin' to prove somethin' or make up for the wrongs I've committed. I've done my share of wrong, we all have, but I like the high."

"Sure, I can get my fix in the things that I do outside of the ring. We all have our lifestyles but inside of that ring, it's only men fightin' to prove who is the better wrestler with these right here. Holding his hands up in front of him, he clinches his fists as silence overtakes the room for a slight moment. It isn't an awkward silence, just one where nothing needs to be said, no words can explain better than what you can see with your own eyes.

"I might not have the book smarts that a lot of these posers in the business claim to have. Everything I've done and everything I've earned, I did it with these right here. There were no shortcuts, there was only a long road of bumps and bruises to do what I've done, what had to be done. In that ring, book smarts aren't goin' to get you anywhere. I'm not goin' to lecture you for the three count, not by a long shot. I'm goin' to lay your ass out and send you home with your head held low."

Pulling his hand away from the table quickly, he slaps the drop light hanging above. Back and forth, it rocks, lighting up various spots in the room before pointing to another. Taking a step back from the table, he grabs the chair and slides it across the floor, resting both hands on top of the back rest.

"I'm excited, locked and loaded, ready to step into that ring for one last night. One last night where the Black Hand will come together and rise into the spotlight, overcomin' anything that gets thrown in our way. I'm hungry and lookin' forward to this meal. Even though I haven't laced them up for over half a year, the hunger is still there, tearin' up my insides and beggin' to be fed. It's goin' to be a buffet from the looks of it, four other men steppin' into that ring only to be laid out and proper fucked."

"The Black Hand is more than just the two of us steppin' into that ring and throwin' down. We're brothers in arms, ridin' side by side against all odds. APW has been filled with great tag teams along the way but none that will go as far and put it all on the line to walk out victorious. That's what we do. It doesn't matter if we walk out of that buildin' broken and battered, as long as the deed is done and we come out on top, then the message was delivered. Fuck what you think, no one is gettin' off the hook. The price for admission isn't cheap and it will be paid in blood."

Turning the chair around, he sits in it backwards with a leg on each side. With his eyes locked on the spliff still burning at the edge of the table, he reaches across and pinches it between his fingers. Looking at it for a moment, he then takes a drag before leaning his head back and slowly exhaling through his nose. Continuing to look up, he takes a deep breath, staring at the ceiling above.

"I could sit here and go on and on about this match all night but you don't want to listen to whatever spews from these lips, just like I don't give two shits what you have to say. At the end of the day, the only thing that's goin' to matter is what happens in that ring. We can shoot the shit back and forth but words aren't goin' to put anyone out for the three count. We can even take it to Twitter but a hundred and forty characters aren't goin' to do it either. It's goin' to come down to who is left standing in that ring and who isn't. You're either goin' to get down or you're goin' to lay down, but not by these hands..."

Lowering his head with the joint hanging from his lips, he holds up both hands again, fists clinched."... but by the Black Hand." After a brief moment of silence, he then reaches across the table with his hand drawing closer to the camera. With his palm then covering the picture, it flickers a few times before the feed cuts out to static.

And all these scars, the nightmare it calls
The fear and betrayal begin, we've come so far
The shit we ingest, with a mouthful of spit and protest
We sail into the black