''One's'' The planning of ''The Plan'' (1)

[Level-Two]

''One's'' The Planning of ''The Plan'' Part 1 V. John Green

It wasn’t until I returned home from Des Moines did I realize they really did a number on the place. The couches left flipped over, the cupboards and dour all remained open for anyone to take what they wanted. I showed little respect to them, and I suppose they did the same to me. Karma, is a bitch.

While they tore apart every inch of my penthouse, it didn’t seem to anger me. It was a slap in the face, but it felt nothing like a clenched fist. The penthouse was the least of my worries, and I didn’t even plan on sorting through the broken shit, they’ve left graciously left me. No, it was time to sit down and rethink everything. And that’s what I did.

I knew who was behind it, hell I saw them in that park car down the block last week as I re-emerged with no cuffs attached. I saw the looks on their faces. The look of anger, frustration, the weight of their failure falling right beneath their feet, leaving them too feeble and weak to pick it back up. They’re after me, and I can’t sit here and wait for them to throw the first punch.

And so I sat down and formulated a plot. Every single step of it, every single movement, reliving the moment in my head to a T. I walk in, pistol in hand, I shove it in his face….no, I put the barrel right between his eyes…

‘’…You sure you want to do this Level?’’ Brian asks, with the gun to his head I simply shrug my shoulders before lowering the gun.

‘’Your fucking my girlfriend…’’ I tell him in a calm, carefree manner. ‘’You’re re-building something in which I sought so hard to destroy…’’ I said now swinging the gun loosely in my hands; Brian raised his hand in defense.

‘’…She made the first move’’ I stopped before lifting my hand right back into his face the barrel of the gun right against his temple this time.

‘’…Lastly, you’ve interrupted me’’ I shook my head in pity, as my index finger slowly snaked it’s way around the trigger.

‘’Your going to shoot me!?’’ Brian blurted out now sweating like a stuck pig under a lit fire. ‘’Look where we are you, idiot!’’ Brian shouted as my eyes began to travel around the surroundings. A group of his co-workers, neatly dressed in ties and suite, held their hands over their mouths in complete and utter shock.

‘’We’re calling the cops!’’ One women uttered as she dialed the telephone behind the safety of a glass pane. I then turned my attention to Brian Mc Phee. ‘’Ah, don’t worry…I’ll gladly go down in cuffs if it means you take this bullet to your skull’’

‘’You fear jail, Level. You’re a beast and you know it! The last damn thing you want is to throw your entire career out the window, and be locked up like the animal you know you are’’

Brian was wrong.

‘’…Any last words?’’ I asked.

‘’You won’t…’’ Brian clenched his teeth as I cut him off; I closed my eyes to show my displeasure with him.

‘’Now choose wisely’’ Brian Mc Phee nodded his head. He gritted his teeth and then smiled, closing his eyes in the process.

‘’Her lips were softer than ever. When I ran my hands through her hair, I could feel the passion she had for me’’ Brian mocked before cockily pointing at me. ‘’You know what I mean, bro?’’

‘’Yes, yeah I do’’ I replied. Brian almost shocked that I took it so calmly, but he wasn’t going to shake me, nor break me. I had control over him, just like old times where he would fetch my bags, take care of my bookings and scheduling, a personal bitch. It’s a shame, it had to go down like this.

‘’I know exactly how it felt. Before she did you Brian, she did me’’ I sighed. ‘’…And I have the signature to prove it. Signed, sealed, delivered’’

‘’What the fuck are you talking…’’

BANG!

I sat at the table shaking my head in disbelief. That couldn’t work. You see, while I had the FED-EX truck out back to dispose of his body, there was no way I could carry it out of that building. Surely, the cops would be there before I could get out of there. It was potent, I had that body.

It wasn’t that I needed to dispose of the body, nor to hide it. No, it was to add the salt on the wounds. The final slap in the face; it embedded something similar to me wiping it out, and taking a long piss on his grave, as it soaks through the soil into his shallow grave.

I had wrapped his body in a blanket before shoving him into the back of the trunk. I had no license, nor was it even my car. A man lay in the grassy pasture face down, with a bullet to the back of his skull. And if the police had asked a damn thing, I’d just insist it wasn’t from my gun.

I wasn’t thinking straight, damn right I wasn’t thinking straight. Two murders committed in the span of a day, I knew I had a spot reserved in hell for me; but that didn’t matter. I drove until I saw nothing but open land. A corn field stared back to me in the distance, as I did my best to man a wheel with out-ditching the car along the way. The roads only seemed to grow thinner the further I went.

I drove to the last property at the end of the road which singled a dead end. I quickly stepped out of the car. Peering my head into the sky, it was clear the sun was setting. It was a hot, dry day, and Brian’s body in the back of the truck began to odorize and I knew I would have to rid the body soon.

A bent barbed wire fence taunted me, daring me to climb over it. It was the good ol’ EWC memories all over again. I gripped my hands on the sharp razor wire and with a sling shot motion I was over the fence. I laid in the tall long wheat a gash opened up on my hand, but I didn’t pay it too much attention. A string of mosquitoes came out behind the bush, like a stalker in the night.

The buzzed, they bit, and I did my best to pick myself back up to my feet; but I was knocked back down again. A man with a big black boot planted his weight down against my chest; with a shot gun pointed to my face. A long piece of wheat hung in between his coated yellow teeth.

‘’HAH! I gotcha’’ He taunted in a heavy hick accent. I knew I was in some trouble. ‘’I knew there some folk up here, stealin’ my corn’. Look, what I find now. A damn nigger’’ The farmer said with his shot gun still pointed to my face.

‘’There’s a misunderstanding’’ I said trying to sit back up.

‘’Don’t you move, don’t you do it’’ The farmer threatened. ‘’Yous on private property, now, boy’’ I laid my head flat against the wheat, the plant felt as if it was eating away at my neck. Its teeth leaving an itching, almost burning sensation. ‘’…Hey’s, you look darn familiar’’ The farmer soon comes to a shocking revelation.

‘’…You saw me on the tube, right?’’ I asked as he nodded his head. He slowly removed the gun from my face; thank god for that.

‘’Yous that Level-One fella’ aren’t you?’' The farmer asked as he reached over and offered a hand. With my very own had cut not wanting to cause anymore trouble, I looked up at him and rose to my feet on my own. ‘’I see you wrestlin’ every week on that damn television’. Yous something else, not to damn bad for a nigger’’

I looked at him with a cut eye not liking his choice of words. But there was absolutely nothing out here, it’s no surprise he wasn’t on par with today’s times. His great breaking technology likely involved a color television, by god if I asked him what an IPOD was; he’d think I was crazy.

‘’No, I guess not’’ I replied wiping my bloodied hand on the side of my torn jeans. ‘’So, what do you do down here?’’

The farmer just looked at me, chewing on the piece of wheat in his mouth. Lifting the shot gun over his shoulder he sighed. ‘’You knows, I tends to the chicken. I milk the cows, and I pick corn. It ain’t easy livin’ down here, I’ll tell you that, boy. You’ve got easy’’

It was quite clear he didn’t realize I had a rotting body in the trunk, nor did he realize I was running on sheer luck and desperation, trying to keep myself out of the hands of the law, they’d gladly pick me apart.

‘’You got all those people cheerin’ you on. Yous an icon in this sport. Lotta’ kids look up to you, I don’t knows if you realize that or not’’ I stared at the farmer, shrugging my shoulders.

‘’I’m used to letting people down by now’’ I told the farmer who simply nodded his head.

‘’Watcha’ doin around these parts anyhow, what’s you up to?’’ The farmer asked me, as I did my best to make up a story. Something, anything, to maneuver out of the situation that was quickly surrounding me.

‘’Uh…I…yeah…see…’’ I stumbled on as the farmer wrapped his large arm around my neck.

‘’You ain’t like those other black folk’’ The farmer said before pointing to his barn yard. ‘’I’ve got three 6 packs, which equals like…10 beers down around back. How about we get’er done?’’

‘’I’m not sure…’’ I said looking back to the trunk; where I knew Brian’s body lay.

‘’…I’ll take that as yes’’--

SWING!

I stumbled through the porch door and then down the steps doing my best to keep my footing, with a beer can in my hand I was quite aware that I had drunk too much. I threw the half full beer can to the side carelessly, as I made my way back down towards the car. In my drunken state; I simply through myself helplessly over the fence now slicing my arm open this time.

‘’Fuck…’’ I hissed a drunken hiss. With the blood slowly spilling down the side of my arm, I slowly but surely stumbled back to the trunk. Opening it there Brian’s body laid, wrapped in a blanket, his feet sticking out through the bottom. With all my might I pulled and tugged at his dead weight, finally getting his legs out from the trunk as they hung lifelessly, literally.

The smell was horrendous. It made the liquor in my stomach turn, and turn, and then turn again. Until I found myself bent over on the concrete road; emptying my stomach fluids. Wiping away at my mouth; I slowly stumbled back to my feet before wrapping my hands around Brian pulling him up onto my shoulders.

That fucking fence. Loosing my footing, with Brian on my shoulders we both tumbled over the fence, back into the farmer’s field. The drunken adrenaline had set in by now, and I didn’t know where I was cut now. I assumed I escaped the razor wire this time, but in reality, nobody gets that lucky. In my career, I’ve faced that blade before.

Exhausted in my drunken state, I began to see double vision; no longer could I barely stand. So on my knees I grabbed Brian’s arm, dragging him until I reached my destination. I looked over as the pigs all made their beastly sounds, craving for dinner. Their keeper to drunk to feed them had left them hungry for the night.

I lifted Brian up onto my shoulders once more; I walked over to a large mixer type container placing him on the edge on his stomach, I took a breather before using my last bit of strength to dumping him over into the machine for good.

‘’Son of a bitch…’’ I uttered amazed at the work it had taken. I stumbled over the machine, the pigs still calling out for their dinner; before pushing the red button. The machine’s engines kicked in, and it started up. It was a loud noise; and it only got louder. With the last bit of energy I had, I ran through the farm, tripping and stumbling over my feet countless times.

‘’Shit, I’ve got to get the fuck out of here’’ I roared as I ran faster, and faster, until my legs weighed more than I did. The sound shot through the farm, almost shaking it like an earth quake. I knew the other farmers with their own anchors not too far away, would wake up and hear the noise. I took yet another drive back into the fence. Bloodied, dirtied and drunken I wiped open the car door, and stuck the key into the ignition.

‘’Come on…come on…come on!’’ I said shouted to myself as the car finally started. With the peddle to the floor, I was off. Not too far away, the pigs were enjoying their feast. Rightfully so.

With a pen and pad now laid out on-front of me; I violently scratched out what I had marked down the paper. It was stupid. I mean, if the plan went down anything like this, how the hell would I be in any shape to drive back home? Farmland was about three hours from Brian's headquarters. And the drive back? How the fuck would I pull that one off?

I couldn't believe I was actually planning this out. But I've hit rock bottom, and I've got the marks to prove it. I took a deep breath, and flipped the page. Forget the murder, forget the revenge, it was now time to plan a decent escape.

SCREECH!!!

I smashed my head off the steering wheel and then off the back of the seat, catching a nasty whiplash effect. I groaned and I mumbled and through the cracked window car window I did my best to see. I caught no break. The front of the car caved in smashed directly into a tree. Smoke rising through the front of the car.

‘’Oh, fuck…’’ I muttered to myself. I could barely move, my body throbbing widely in pain. Pain, in which I haven’t felt since the good ol’ EWC days. The flaming tables, the barbed wire beds and the 15 feet drops. Blood began to trickle from my forehead, but I didn’t bother to wipe away the evidence. I was already a bloodied mess.

Through the splitting headache, police sirens rang out. From there I had two choices to escape on foot, or rot in this car. And when I tried to exercise one of my two choices, I soon realized my failure. I only had the ladder, I simply couldn’t climb. I cursed under my breath, as the police pulled up behind me. They were quick to save me, but I didn’t want their help.

‘’Are you okay, sir?’’ The officer shouted out. A fucking moron this guy was. Yes, I was fine. I’m going to jail for murder, and I can’t move anything below my neck. I sighed, closing my eyes tight, as they tugged and pulled on the door, before finally getting it open.

‘’Don’t help me’’ I tell them as they ignore my warning, freeing me from my seatbelt. ‘’…I’m a cold heart killer’’ I mumbled before fading to black.

I wish I had died.

What a fucking horrible plan that was? I reached over ripping out the piece of paper tossing it onto the floor beside me. The entire thing was stupid, and would get me nowhere but locked up. And then what? I’d lose everything. I hated my life, but at the same time, I wasn’t willing to give it away too easy.

The more I lost my mind, the more I managed to find myself. I was a beast, and no longer was I denying that. Now, it was time to embody it. Perhaps murder was going too far; but I had the feet willing to walk the distance. I would just need to take a break and regroup.

Still, apart of me wanted to know what was next. Who would miss me, if anyone? What would they say about me? How would they honor me? Would the world see what they’ve lost, or will they cherish my death not with tears and flowers, but with smiles and glee?

In the end, it doesn’t really matter.

TAP TAP TAP!

With my hands cuffed like a prisoner, I raised my head. I knew I had a visitor, and it shocked me. Although, if I knew any better any visitors that would dare to come on by would only to stop to witness me rot. I looked up to see my brother with his hands folded in-front of him, staring in on the opposite side of the glass. I reached over and picked up the phone.

‘’It’s been along time’’ I said to my brother. God knows how much I’ve let him down.

‘’Yeah, it has’’ Game-over replied. ‘’I still can’t believe it. You being here, and everything’’ Game-over said looking at my orange jump suite. I showed no emotion.

‘’I was headed down the wrong path since day one, Game’’ I said before taking a long pause. ‘’Every single night, I gave them everything I had. They and their pocketbook felt it. On the surface, everything was alright, wasn’t it? The guys in the back, they figured it was business as usual. The title reins, the single matches…sit up in front of the camera, berating the shit out of each-other only to keep what’s inside of us, inside’’

‘’This wasn’t my fault…’’ Game-Over stated, still wanting to escape any liability for what happened on the faithful night. It was habit of his.

‘’No, it was my fault’’ I calmly stated. I held the phone tightly before lowering my head. ‘’That wrestling ring was my save haven. A way to escape the grasp of real life, away to escape reality. I relied on it too much to save me’’

Game-Over nodded his head. ‘’I tried to save you. Do you think there was anything I could’ve done different?’’

I looked back up at Game-Over.

‘’Yes, yes you could’ve…’’
--

AHHHHHHH!

I smashed my fist against the table. I couldn’t take it anymore. I would need to take care of any outside problems, before they consumed me alive. I had a gun. A bullet to my head, and everything could be over with. I however knew I wouldn’t have the will to pull the trigger; I’ve been there before. I can’t do it.

I quickly sat up walking over to a pile of pictures the swat team had knocked off the shelf. A frame on one of them had broken open. A picture of me with the True Experts championship, raising it high above the air in pride. Behind it however, laid a picture of Kayla in which I had covered up.

How could I hide from this life for so long?

I couldn’t, it was time to face it. It was time to face everything. I knew my plan was a sleeper, and that going through it, would be no better than suicide. I had too much too lose. I’ve built this all up from nothing but rebel and dirt, and while it was on fire, I wasn’t going to walk away from it. I fucking refused to walk away from it.

They wanted war, and they got it.

I slipped the picture of Kayla back into the cracked frame, before putting it back up onto the wall. I’m out of hiding…

I'm going to war; and I'm coming back in one peice.
--

Rasslemania 6, will YOU be be there?

Carnage, what a wonderful night we have on our hands, don’t we? I mean, if you actually believed the bullshit that came out of the announcer’s mouths last week, it seems as if John Green actually stands a fighting chance against, Level-One. On paper things seemed balance. On the ticket, we appear as equals. But once you throw all the hype, all the merchandise and Pay-per-view buys, right out the window where that shit belongs, it’s quite obvious this is a mismatch. John Green is being fed to the fucking wolves with the intent of him being devoured alive.

Don’t you know that hype is what sells tickets, John Green? I recommend you save your money, and not buy into the bullshit. Hurricane Jeff and his buddies didn’t book this match actually thinking you can beat me. They booked it with the intent of making money. And the only way to make money is to ‘’sell’’ the fight. Turn on your television, John Green, and indulge on our commercials in between your favorite sitcom. For only while your sitting on your ass staring, feeding into that bullshit, will we appear equal.

I don’t know about you, but I’m smarter than that. You have clearly bought into the hype. You clearly believe you can actually beat me. You actually think you are on par with my talent. While I should feel highly disrespected, I can’t help but laugh. If you were really the best the APW had to offer, I’d turn my back on Jeff and the entire APW in a second. I don’t come here to mingle, I come here to fight, kick ass, and take names.

You? You actually fucking believe your relevant. Dancing to the newest hot ‘’joint’’ on the air waves, and pulling what you see as cool ‘’dance’’ moves, making a complete and utter joke of yourself time and time again. If I see you make one more ‘’soulja boy’’ reference; I’m going to smash your fucking face in, before shoving that IPOD so far up your ass, your mouth becomes your new play-list. And who the fuck knows what character you’ll be playing today.

I see right through your shit, Green. The key to your failure is pretty simple. John Green the former APW champion only puts enough effort to ‘’get the job done’’ unfortunately, this business requires 100% every night you step into the ring. This is why we have the John Green upsets; this is why John Green suddenly ups the ante when the big prize is on the line. This is yet another reason why you’ll never be on top, Green. You have no heart.

I have a heart. It’s as fucking cold as ever, but trust me there’s something there. I put everything on the line when I step into the ring. Given, I don’t need to break a sweat when I step foot in the ring with some as pathetic as Jason Royce, but let it be known, that I bring more than enough to the table to walk out with the win at the end of the night. You on the other hand, Green. You want to get places by taking the short cuts, by scamming us all by putting half the work, and a quarter of the effort. Yet, you have the audacity to shoot for it all?

That’s not how it fucking works, rookie. Nobody ever gets to the top by simply excising their spontaneous cunt. You tried to take the opportunity to cut straight into the main event, and you almost did it. You almost ascended that ladder, and shocked the world again green…but I jumped higher and I swatted your dreams right out of that air, right into the fucking crowd, to their pleasure. They don’t want you in that main-event, John. You’ve been there before, and yet you want to take them there again?

Not on my watch. Trust me; I don’t give a shit about those fans. But there is no denying, that they deserve better than you. The APW and President Jeff deserves better than you. You may have been here at the APW from the start, John. However that only explains how you became world champion the first time. While the marquee sounds a bit fancy, let it be known you simply where the best of the worst at the time. A whole new wave has walked in to the APW since then, John. And it has pushed you wayside.

Furthermore it is fact that while you were World Heavyweight champion in the APW a year ago, you were also a mid-card champion in the EWC. It was clear that APW at the time was a bottom feeder fed. President Jeff’s goal wasn’t to rival the EWC but to serve as its security blanket. Should those legs ever get stiff, or a little too shaky; Jeff could scoop up any talent willing to jump off. The man is a marketing genius, and you should feel very, very lucky. Not many people could make a shit sandwich like you, seem the least bit tasty.

John Green you not being as fucking stupid as you currently are had jumped to the APW sensing your chance to be somebody. You clearly put loyalty to the side when it came to the chance to shine. While the EWC gave up on me, they never gave up on you; you just wanted to have all eyes on you. You’ve whored yourself out for this attention, but now I’m afraid you’ll regret every last bit of it. The whole world will watch you fail, again.

Your ‘’time’’ has been up along time ago, John. How about we stop running in circles? Kenny Lombardo was the first nail in your coffin. In the form of him driving your face into the mat, in 5 minutes, pinning you on the biggest stage of them all! See, your last bit of credibility? It’s bounced. It’s been tarnished. It’s been laughed at and spit on. And now? This is where your stupidity comes in. Because you truly believe I don’t deserve my shot at Michael Lively. Despite the fact that I’ve developed a better record than you have, during your entire career with the APW. And if statistics don’t mean shit to you, there was only ONE way I got to where I am today, and that was walking over your lifeless body. Fact.

John Green I know you aren’t happy, but trust me. I can sleep knowing that you can’t with a smile on your face. The truth is I have EARNED my rasslemania 6 main-event match, weather you agree with it or not. The question now is, what do you want to do about it John Green? Time’s quickly approaching, and your window of opportunity of being tossed in that match with us is slowly closing. In fact, it is already closed.

You had a chance to prove yourself at Survive and Conquer and you failed. You had a chance to prove yourself against Michael lively, and you fucked that up too. John Green, someone in their ivy tower must be sick of giving you chances, only to watch you fail to capitalize on them. And while you may have one last ‘’chance?’’ if you couldn’t bank on it the first two times, what makes you think you’ll fair any different with me?

John Green, I’m not sure if you know what you’re dealing with. Only someone as clue-less as you would flirt with death as you have. No, John. When I speak of death, it isn’t me taking your life. Nor, is it me ending your career. No. Its mean mentally destroying you. Giving you that final blow; in which reality would soon to set in. With this final blow, you’ll finally learn your place in this business. Not as a main-eventer, nor a number 1 contender. But the glorified mid-carder you really are, John.

You can issue your idle threats, with your swollen tongue. However, the irony is due when it comes time to swallow it. Silence this case is your best friend. I mean, are you really going to claim I’ve overrated, John? I haven’t lost a goddamn singles match in APW since stepping foot in the ring. Are you going to call me ‘’boring’’ John? Because the last time you addressed me, you had to pour water in your eyes just to stay awake. FYI, if your bored while speaking your shit, chances are I am too having to fucking listen to it. What in your arsenal do you have, that you haven’t yet displayed?

I know what you’re capable of, and do I appear to be worried? Fuck no. There isn’t a damn trick up your sleeve, we all haven’t seen before. You can sit there and be as long winded as I am, however at the end of it? I won’t be blue in the face. I can do this all day, John. I don’t grow tired. Nor, do I grow weak. I maybe predictable, but that just shows I’m real. Who knows what gimmick you’ll be playing tomorrow night.

The truth is the APW counts on me, not you. You won’t be responsible for the five star match at the end of the night, John. From here on out? I carry you to anything of worth. This right here? This is the last time you come into a match with me, with your head set on your shoulders. Because when I’m down with you? I’d have broken you mentally. I won’t give a fuck if you can’t piece yourself back together again.

Ask yourself, who’s going to pick you back up again? Who’s going to tend to your kindred spirits? Who the FUCK is going to care about John Green? The answer is real simple, John. And that’s nobody. Your time has come, and gone. You’ve had your chances, and they’ve all been wasted away by your own very hands. You’ve only risen above for the sole purpose of watching you crash and burn. This is our entertainment for tonight. This is what YOU wanted, isn’t it?

John, the APW isn’t your territory anymore. I’ve pissed on every corner of that ring and made it mine. It may turn yours, and everyone who has wrestled in this ring before me, to see me rise above them all in such a short time, but what the fuck do I care? I stopped caring about you APW ‘’originals’’ when you did nothing, sat by on idle, as Sabur strutted around with the APW world championship around his waist, being half as talented as myself. And if things couldn’t get any worse, the only person who ever gotten their chances to stop him was Trevor Blackwell. And let me ask you, where has your hero gone now?

Fuck knows.

Face that face, John. You originals are the stain on this federation, and you will be removed as such. You want to hold this product back? You can do so on your own watch. When I’m tired of running through the APW only then will you have a chance. This is MY home now. This is MY federation. I’ve left my mark on every inch of this ring, now it’s time to finally take the preverbal shit on you, and anyone else who wants to step in my way.

So you can do two things. You can cry, whine, bitch, piss AND moan about it. Or you can drop your stupid dances, stop your self pep-talks and ego stroking, and end the fucking prologues and get straight to the point. You’re going to stop me, Green?

Than fucking STOP me.

I don’t know what we’re waiting for; I’m tired of waiting. Lately, this business has become nothing less than a pissing contest. A battle to see whose dick is bigger. John Green, you’ve been trying to show us something…but we can’t see it. But then, reality set in. The truth slaps you right across the face. It’s cold, it’s hard, and it’s remorseless.

‘’You can’t see what isn’t there’’

You won’t beat me. You CAN’T beat me. Now why would you even BOTHER to try? You’re simply wasting my time, and yours. I’m a busy man, John. I can’t say, I’ll beat you quicker than Lombardo did at Rasslemania 6…

…but if I don’t, it’s only because I decided to have fun with this one.

Let’s have fun.