“If you want to find the real competition, just look in the mirror. After a while you'll see your rivals scrambling for second place.”
― Criss Jami, Killosophy
{Baltimore, Md - Bane’s House - “History”}
Off-Camera
Autumn had arrived in Baltimore, it hadn’t been sudden but still it seemed like people weren’t quite prepared for it. The PTSD support group that I was part of, they however were always prepared. This group was made up of war veterans. Currently the group is sitting around my firepit, exchanging information and a lot of other things. Wearing my new “Outlaw” hoodie, blue jeans and black boots, out on the back porch, a cigarette in hand and leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my thighs. Steve Matthews had given me the name of a couple of whiskeys to try. I had shared them with the group, who gave a unanimous approval. I needed to make sure that I mentioned that to him. The here and now was my focus, as I began to tell a story to the PTSD support group that had gathered at my home. A group of men and women who had all served their country and at times felt deserted by it. Johnus, a recon Marine. Jetty, a Navy Seal. Shay, an Army Ranger. Seba, a Green Beret and me. I had served in the Navy Seabees, the construction battalion based out of Puerto Rico. We took turns relating stories or conversations that we had had while we were in the service that we felt had an impact on us and how we grew or didn’t grow as human beings. Tonight happens to be my turn in the barrel so to speak. “So, imagine being nineteen or twenty years old….being deployed to a country you know you’re not supposed to be in.”
The scene shimmers as I continue to tell my tale and we go way back to nineteen ninety four.
Kandahar, Afghanistan
0400 hours
The Orders read….
PR 74 will deploy and secure sector two and await further instructions.
I looked at my Lieutenant, Maggie Fletcher, she was a fine officer but had expressed to me her concern over some of the things we’d be asked to do. “Petty Officer Bane!”, came the barked command of Lieutenant Junior Grade Franklin Spatharos. Where the hell did he come from? I thought we left his dumb ass on the carrier. Was the thought that came to my mind, but I didn’t speak it out loud, instead I snapped to attention and proffered a proper salute to this arrogant windbag. “Yes sir, Lieutenant!”, came my response to him. My squad had been ready for hours, and of course we all knew he was going to ask as he continued to put on a show for Maggie and our commanding officer.
I could feel the eyes roll behind me as he asked, “Is your squad ready?”. Maintaining my military bearing, I simply responded, “Yes Sir!”. He smiled walking away from me, “Good, good job Bane.” It’s not that Spaz was a bad guy, he was just a Spaz, and yes that’s the nickname that my squad had given him. His inclination to fold under pressure, it was not a good look for a Naval Officer. Spaz played a good game of pretended comradery with myself and my squad. We hated each other, it was documented and certified. He’d almost got my squad killed in Haiti the year before and I hadn’t gotten over that in the least. Maggie knew about it and had documented it with her superiors. We loaded up our equipment which I had called into question with Lieutenant Fletcher, she had called command and we were told to just follow orders. So now we were headed into sector two to meet our contact.
Contact number one was a crypto guy that I already knew, Petty Officer Second Class Salvatory Genase. Very italian and even more short tempered. Sal sighed when he saw me, but then just casually shrugged. “Hey Bane, your primary is just over there.”, he said, nodding to a man in civilian garb. I look to where he was pointing and shake my head in dismay. “Not this asshole again.”, I remarked to no one in particular. “Fraid so Mac.”, Sal said in the most sincere tone I think I had ever heard from him.
I looked at the guy, he caught my glance and smiled this big, “notta a damn thing you can do about it” smile at me. It was all I could do not to shoot that bastard on the spot. “Johnny fucking Webb.”, I smirked as he approached. One of my E-3’s, Carter, nudged me as we saw Spaz coming in from the periphery. As a squad everyone snapped to attention, offering the proper salute. “At east”, came the response from Spatharos. Frank looked over at Webb, “I’m assuming that your intel is correct this time and it won’t put anyone at unnecessary risk?” Webb shrugged, “As much as we can tell, yes.”. That statement got my blood boiling almost immediately. Then Lieutenant Fletcher was there. Good lord that woman was sneaky. “Not good enough Webb.”, she snapped at him. He immediately rounded on her and snapped back, “You’re not in control of this op Lieutenant!” “You’ll do as your fucking told or I call your commanding officer who will then be forced to bust you back to fucking ensign. Is that clear?” Maggie’s eyes flashed dangerously, and I watched as her right hand twitches like a gunslinger from some old western my dad would watch.
Instead though, Maggie smiled her most beautiful smile, “Oh, I understand just fine. I understand that some half-assed alphabet boy almost got my squad killed last time. You do that again and you won’t have to worry about calling anyone, you won’t be able to.”. She waits for a response, but he chooses not to respond at all. Spaz, trying to play it off, smiles at the civilian and claps him on the shoulder. “That’s our Maggie, just full of fire.”. Webb to his credit smiled in return and laughed, “No harm done.”. He looked at me and I knew that was a lie when it left his mouth. If he managed to survive this op, he’d be looking for retribution. Maggie would be his primary target and me if he could get collateral damage. We had suspected that he was either NSA or CIA, and that just confirmed it for me and my squad.
That night, our duty turned out to be torching one poppy field and protecting another. Armed with flame throwers, my men and I destroyed the Taliban controlled poppy field. It was not protected by the Taliban who had been ordered to another location. Likely a decoy operation set up by Webb and his bunch. When we were done, there was simply nothing left. Our masks and heavy uniforms protected us sufficiently from the fumes and the ash. Then we moved to the southern portion of Sector 2. Spatharos calmly and quietly said to Maggie and I on the ride to the next deployment, “At least his intel was good this time.”. The look that Maggie shot him insured that he didn’t say another word the rest of the way. I raised the bill of my cap slightly and nodded. “So far, so good.”. I shot Frank a sympathetic nod, getting your ass handed to you by Maggie was not a fun or pleasant experience. That woman, she could give the evil eye to anyone and they would shrivel up.
We arrived at our second deploy, another poppy field. We all knew what this crap was but this wasn’t owned by the Taliban. Judging by the hardware and the personnel this one belonged to the United States. Our orders were to build fortifications and help defend this area. It wasn’t a base perse, but after my squad was done, it would be. The equipment would be arriving soon and in the meantime, Lieutenant Fletcher, Lieutenant Junior Grade Spatharos and myself would have to scout the fortifications, and make suggestions. Our Chief never made it out of Haiti so his duties fell to me in the absence of a more senior enlisted. We had begun to make our observations as the sequence ended and the shimmering began again to bring us back to the current day.
“We lost a lot of good men that day.”, I say very solemnly. “There was something about those soldiers that night, it just wasn’t quite right.”, I look around and they are all looking at me with a bit guarded expressions. I nod, “I don’t blame you for not believing me, I can’t believe it most of the time myself.”. Jetty is the first to speak, “Shipmate, we do believe you. We’ve all had similar experiences.”. Pulling up his right pants leg, he shows me the metal prosthetic. “I was thrown by a man, thrown over ten feet. I landed on an IED...and….well you can see how that went.”. Seb nodding, removes his right glove to show the prosthetic, a polymer hand. “Hand to hand with one of the soldiers you described. He crushed my hand Mac, by the time I could get it looked at…”, He shrugs. I rock back in my chair, looking at the group, I understood why these sessions had become so important to them. “A clue to an old mystery?”. One by one they nod. “Okay, email me all the info you have on this company….what did you say the name was Jetty?”. Jetty cleared his throat softly, “MRS is what was on the badges they wore.”. I snap my fingers, “Webb had mentioned a Military Response System. I thought he was talking about something else.”.
Seb, who had been silent for the most part, “Johnny Webb….terrible human being. It adds up though. This country was dealing with and against a foreign company or entity that was supplying other countries with super soldiers.”. I nod, “yeah but damn sure wasn’t the Steve Rogers kind. These people...if you can call them that….they were huge and only wanted to inflict pain….”. I let the sentence drift off.
Fade
{Parkland Hospital - Dallas, Texas - “The Final Cut”}
When being the absolute best at what you do is all you’ve ever wanted, and all you’ve ever worked towards, it tends to make people extremely critical of themselves. A mistake that I’ve lived with every single day of my life. I’m hard on other people but probably a good thing they can’t hear my inner monologue when it comes to my decisions. I’m much more harsh about my own mistakes than anyone else. Even Kyra couldn’t match my self directed vitriol. Maybe it was her words that were feeding my current mood. The words, “How does it feel to be a failure, Daddy?” still rang in my ears. The fact that bitch was still breathing was a testament to my restraint. She wasn’t my focus at the moment though, my one track mind was on my family right now. The fight with JC was running a close second at the moment. Today was the day that they were supposed to wake Aeric up. I really needed to understand what exactly happened to my youngest son.
Ding
The elevator had arrived at the right floor, but something was definitely off. As I stepped out into the floor from the elevator, you could feel the tension on the floor. I started making my way towards his room and am met by the two officers who had been on duty the last time I was here. The married couple, the Sanders’, frown as I arrive. Puzzling, since I thought I was on good terms with them. I shake it off and continue towards the room. I look up to make sure I’m in the right place.
Rm. 668
I walk into a mostly empty room. Aeric is gone….
“What in the actual fuck…”
The words came out of my mouth without me even realizing I had said them. A man in a light grey sport coat turns and sees me as he collects the handcuffs that had imprisoned my son for the last few weeks.
“Ah, you must be Mister Bane.”
I lower my gaze at the smallish man and exhale slowly.
“Where’s my son?”
He smirked at me, this little shit….
“If you’re referring to Jynx, the district attorney found it best to dismiss the charges. With my having his power of attorney and all….”
I take a step towards him, looming large over him.
“Say your next words very carefully little man.”
He openly smiled at me, this guy was either dumb as fuck or had balls of steel. Possibly worse….he knew something. Something was very wrong in this scenario...
“Mr. Bane, the man you knew as your son...he simply doesn’t exist anymore. He doesn’t see you as his father and provided me with his power of attorney. The individuals I represent would be very unpleasant should you visit any physical harm upon my person. I in turn would make you a very poor man in a very short period of time.”
I watched him walk out the door, the feeling of failure was stronger just then. Stronger than it had been in my mind and my heart in a very long time. I feel something flutter against my right arm as he brushes past me. I look down and see a business card. Picking it up, I scan it and it confirms what Mia had told me. There it was in bold black letters, SSRI. How did this happen? Where did I go wrong? Had they done something to Aeric? Brainwashed him like they did to Mia and Zephyr? Regardless of what or how, it left me feeling very broken inside.
Fade.
{Studio Time}
With the Carnage backdrop behind me I step up to the microphone to record my thoughts. Softly I clear my throat. I collect my thoughts while unconsciously rubbing my left arm, the softness of the flannel shirt I wore soothes my emotions some. Finally, looking into the camera I begin.
“Not long ago, it was announced that my opponent for Chaos number ninety nine, JC, had been barred from the building because of his behavior. My replacement opponent for ninety nine, calls himself Lord Raab, does not measure up. I wanted JC in this match as I got ready for Kyra Johnson. I needed to test myself against one of the people that I consider to be among the elite in this business. Instead I get Markus Raab, the guy who tries to portray himself as some kind of monster. That’s not easy to pull off when you’re only six foot four inches, eh Markus? Maybe he thinks he’s seven foot and four hundred pounds.”
Starting to feel the words flow now, more comfortable and confident.
“Extreme pain Raab. Take a look at the history and tradition of Carnage Wrestling! That’s what this company is built on. The blood sweat and tears of this roster, a lot of blood….sweat and tears of losers. People who just couldn’t cut it against the best that this company had to offer. They took their ball and went home, or found a new home that was more accommodating to their lack of fucking talent. I thought for a while you had taken the same path. I knew you were active in other places but we hadn’t seen you booked here, even though you have a contract with Carnage. I guess that Carnage Wrestling isn’t your priority like it is for a lot of us who call it home. Carnage is my priority and my focus, there’s not much else that matters to me. I do split time with another company but that doesn’t change my focus or my priorities for Carnage. So, are you going to do what so many others have done after they lost to me? Will you simply go back to Vegas and lick your wounds for six months and try to return again? Or….or…..will you take this ass whippin like a man and give as good as you get?
That’s what Carnage Wrestling was built on son. Who can inflict the most damage on the other person and still walk away. That is what you and I will do. It won’t be an Ultra Violence match. I guess that’s where I’m a bit different than a lot of these men and women. I’ve never needed weapons to prove a point or win a fight. I don’t have to resort to hitting someone in the back of the head with brass knuckles. I don’t need anything other than the soup bones that sit on the end of my arms to inflict maximum damage. Why would I use a kendo stick when I can kick someone in the face? A steel chair when I can superplex them? I don’t need any of that, because I know how to inflict pain through wrestling. I can stretch a man out and make him pray for death. I have that much technical skill, that I don’t need any of the “accessories” that people tend to use around here. It still begs the question though, why is this match important to me?
See, I spent a lot of time trying to be one of the good guys around here Raab, as you well know. I’ve done my best to represent the people of Baltimore every time I go to the ring. I’ve done my damndest to represent my family's name, every time I step into that ring. See, I was taught to revere this business and this sport. When you’re brought up that way, it becomes like a religion to you. You’ve seen religious fanatics before, we all have. The zealotry is amazing in their dedication to their cause. That’s the kind of dedication and passion that lives in my heart for the wrestling business. She’s been a mistress to me just about my entire life Markus, anything that threatens her or this way of life becomes public enemy number one. Back to the original question though, why this match matters. It matters to me, because every match matters to me, Markus. I never sluff off in a match, there’s never half assed effort from me. It’s always full throttle from bell to bell.
That’s the man I am, the man I was raised to be. Unlike you and your associates, we all remember the stunt they pulled in the tag division around here. That was low even for you and your boys Raab. It’s old news now and ancient history to be honest but it’s one of those things that screams of injustice. It screams of low standards and spits in the face of tradition. Know this Raab, I’ll be holding you to a higher standard at Chaos number ninety nine. I realize you may not know what that means right now, but by the end of our match, you’ll damn sure know the textbook definition. This lesson is brought to you by extreme pain, it won’t be fun for you but it’ll leave a lasting impression on the old man.”
