Grass Roots Revival

{Post Chaos 76}

“Sometimes as professionals, we try too hard to appease the fans. We try too hard to be that guy that their kids can look up to. We try too hard to be the hero they want.”was my response to the interviewer as I came past the gorilla position. He started to ask another question but I held up my hand and extended my middle finger. “I’m no one’s fucking role model, you get that? I’ve done things in my life that would make TSK faint.” The anger was still very fresh to me as I pushed past him on my way to the locker room. Sweat still pouring, adrenalin pumping, anger rising over a loss that in the bigger picture didn’t matter much.

Mac Bane: Chicken shit, bullshit, cock sucker!

Those were my words as I hit the locker room, I grab a water bottle on my way to sit down for a moment so I can think about this. I’ve been in this game far too long to allow a mistake like that. Was I playing to the fans? Have I fucking gone soft?

“You know, I remember a time when you didn’t play well with others.”, the remark from the doorway but a familiar voice connected to a friendly face. Well, as friendly as Ken Davison gets anyway. He shoots me a grin and I shake my head laughing at the comment.

Mac Bane: Well you ought to know, we spent the majority of a decade beating the hell out of each other.

“Godly” Ken Davison: We did, but that wasn’t hate, that was respect.

Mac Bane: Aye, that it was. Good times.

Now he laughed, obviously remembering we spent more time on the trainers table and local emergency rooms than we actually did in the ring.

“Godly” Ken Davison: Brothers to the bone….

Mac Bane: Never ride alone.

We bump knuckles and he departs. Just as the door closes I hear the words, “I’m only a phone call away old man.”

Mac Bane: Roger that old man.

I say knowing he’s too far away to possibly hear me but knowing that he knows what was said helps. Funny thing about our friendship, we always pick up right where we left off.

Mac Bane: So, the Sandtown Kid. Spent all that time trying to be the hero of the people and when he turns out to be a bigger dumbass than even I thought he could be. He has the balls to look at the people in amazement that they’re booing him. Forgive me if I don’t look shocked. He’s an idiot. He thinks he’s smart, pulling that ref in front of me. It worked and that’s all that matters right kid?

I slowly clap my hands together both applauding and mocking him at the same time.

Mac Bane: Real fucking original kid. At the end of the day, the winners purse is all that matters right? I was doing by any means necessary when you were still on your mom’s tit. Oh, wait, that’s right, you didn’t fucking have one. Sucks to be you. No, it really does. You think you have this all figured out. Problem is this.

I rip the top off the bottle of water, dumping it over my head and letting it run down me. I learned this over in Japan, it helps me to maintain my composure. It doesn’t allow me to reach that stage of rage that I used to go into.

Mac Bane: The problem kid is that you don’t have anything figured out. You don’t have a plan, other than to continue to run away until you have the advantage. That’s what chicken shit’s do. You have no honor. You’d attack your mom from behind if the money was right. There’s another mom joke in there but I’m bored with it already.

I take the last swig of water out of the bottle and toss the bottle in the trash can. The cameras are still rolling and so is my verbal barrage.

Mac Bane: Don’t mind me kid, you have a huge problem hunting you now. See, you left a warrior to die, but he didn’t. There are a lot of us in this business that respect the hell out of that man. Joe has always had that “it” factor about him. He has something else that just seems to keep eluding you ...integrity. He’s warned you now and yet all you can think of to do is throw more barbs at him.

You are a fool son. Not as big a fool as the one that I’m facing at we are relentless though. Jazzmine, what did you think was going to happen when you got on twitter and questioned my integrity? The best part of the act of stupidity though, the stipulations. You have no fear because you’ve been in all kinds of matches. That’s cute princess. You’ve never been in those matches with me. You’ve never been locked inside of a cage with someone like me. I’m sure you’ve been put through a table before. Was it wrapped in razor wire and set on fire before they did? Think about that next time you want to run your mouth.

I grab clean clothes and head towards the shower, thinking, “There are some dumb sumbitches in this place”.

Fade…

---------------

{Port Arthur, Texas - The Crooked M Ranch}

The Texas coast is a lovely place to live, if you don’t mind being able to swallow your air like a glass of water. Typical Port Arthur morning, seven in the morning, eighty degrees, ninety percent humidity. So, it feels like….

“Fucking Balls”, I yell at no one in particular. I hear the giggles of my youngest Child, Jules standing behind me reading over my shoulder.

Mac Bane: That’s not polite, ya know?

Jules Bane: Ya, I know daddy, but really? They’re feeding you another pretty boy spot monkey?!

She turns sixteen tomorrow, and she’s had me wrapped around her finger since the day she was born. The problem with this is that she knows it. She starts her senior year in just a few weeks. She must have gotten that from her mother is all I can think.

Mac Bane: Aren’t we supposed to be visiting a college for you today? University of Houston I believe.

She nods her head but she has that very Mellisa-ish grin on her face. God she looks like her mom.

Jules Bane: We do, but you know if you have to fly out today, it’s okay. I can go by myself.

I stared at her with what must be an incredulous expression on my face. The warning klaxons that were going off in my head weren’t even needed. I laughed, shaking my head.

Mac Bane: No ma’am, not a chance.

She beamed at me before planting a kiss on my cheek and running off to finish getting ready. I look at my phone one last time and grunt as I set it on the table. I leaned back in the chair, feeling the wooden slats up against my bare back. I take out a cigarette and lit it. The sensor in the kitchen kicks on the filtration system to help mitigate the smell that the smoke leaves behind.

Mac Bane: “Flawless” Jimmy Edwards. At one point he was an indy sensation, capturing the imagination and the attention of many people in our industry. That was then, this is now. Another speed guy who looks like a glorified frat boy. Oh, and he despises getting punched in the face. Now, that’s a rather odd combination for a professional wrestler don’t you think?

I stand up and grab the button down shirt that is draped over a nearby chair. I put the first arm into the sleeve.

Mac Bane: If you don't like getting hit, then why are you here? You think you’re going to be discovered by a big time talent scout? Go to hollywood and make movies? Become a runway model?

I slide the other arm into the other sleeve. I then begin fastening the cuff buttons.

Mac Bane: Well pretty boy, it’s like this. You picked a real shit time to be facing off against me. You may have noticed that I don’t play well with others. That wasn’t always the case, there was a time when I was quite the gentlemen in this business. Again, I have to back track and say I didn’t start out that way. I started as a gifted technician in the ring. My first ever match was in a long dead company called nMw. If I remember right it stood for New Millennium Wrestling. Anyway, they liked having hardcore matches and I got suckered into one.

Now I begins buttoning up my shirt, the camera catches glimpses of the scars that run down my torso.

Mac Bane: It turns out that I’m quite the natural at beating the hell out of people. You ever try something once and you’re like, “I was made for this!”. That was me, all these years later, my scar tissue has scar tissue. I’ll tell you the same thing I told Bridges, I wreck shit, it’s what I do best. I have no bias towards anyone in particular. What I do have is a vile temper and a thirst for blood. It’s not your fault, it’s not the companies fault. Hell it’s not even that chicken shit TSK’s fault. It’s just who I am kid. I could lie and say I won’t enjoy this, but why bother, anyone who knows me knows otherwise. You could say that this is a grass roots revival for me, and you get the honor of being the first to feel it.

I finish buttoning my shirt up and tuck it in. Jules arrives with my kit and my case. A black case with the emblem of the “The Saints” last etched into it.

Jules Bane: You’re going old school aren’t you dad?

I look up and smile at my daughter, I nodded my head solemnly causing her to smile.

Jules Bane: Show them Dad.

I look down at the case, so much history there, so much bloodshed. I pop the latches and open the lid. The camera zooms in on the contents. A pair of black louisville sluggers rest in the foam inserts. “TOMW” are etched into the wood of the bats.

Mac Bane: You worry your dad sometimes ya know? You look like your mom but you act like me. That’s a scary combination.

She sticks her tongue out at me but smiles anyway causing me to laugh. I look over in the corner where “Betty” rests. I reach over and grab the fifteen pound sledge hammer. I look at it, remembering all the bloody wars we went through together. The head of the sledge hammer is blackened, still wrapped in razor wire. I pat it affectionately and reach for the door. Turning the knob I open it and we go to the driveway.

Jules Bane: Why does the head of that hammer look like it’s been set on fire before?

Mac Bane: Because it was.

I say in a snarky manner, this time no smile, she rolls her eyes as we head to the car.

Mac Bane: It has been set on fire many times. There are some people in this business who want to walk around acting like they’re some kind of cowboy. They like to use branding irons.

Jules Bane: It’s even got our ranch brand on the head of it…..

I smile, “It does indeed baby girl. Let’s just say I like to leave my mark on every company I work for.”

Fade.

-----------

{Later that night - Crazy Horse - Silsbee, Texas}

A cold front had pushed through during the day, dropping the temperatures to damn near lovely. Southeast Texas in July was usually just disgusting. This was amazing, it was a great afternoon for a ride. Feeling the road under me, two wheels of pure pleasure. I pulled off the highway and soon found myself in the parking lot of the Crazy Horse. No, it's not that Crazy Horse, this particular establishment was a small bar nestled in the piney woods. I looked over and saw my cousin's truck parked up front. I nodded, smiling to myself. It would be good to see Sarah again. We were distantly related and we were great friends. I kill the engine and slide off. Taking my leathers and helmet off and securing them in the saddle bags. I grab my Stetson, putting it on, I make my way into the bar.

“Hey cowboy, where’s your horse!?”

I look up and see one of Sarah’s drinking buddies laughing and pointing at me. I look at her and she realizes her mistake too late.

Mac Bane: He’s between my legs, but you’re too fat to ride bitch.

With that she clamps her mouth shut and doesn’t say a word. I make my way to the bar where Sarah meets me there.

Sarah McKinnes: That shit was uncalled for cuz.

I smirk at her, taking my hat off, I lay it on the bar.

Mac Bane: Not my fault you hang out with trash.

She slugs me in the arm for my comment, the bartender doesn't have to ask anymore. He pours me a glass of laphroaig and slides it to me.

Bartender: Running a tab Mac?

I nod acknowledging his question.

Mac Bane: Put theirs on my tab as well.

Sarah McKinnes: I take back all the horrible things I said about you.

Mac Bane: Why? They’re all true.

We have a good laugh and I take a sip from my glass.

Sarah McKinnes: You know she’s had a crush on you since highschool….

I cut her off with a wave of my hand.

Mac Bane: I get it Sarah, but I’ve never been interested in her. She’s nice and all, I just can’t. It’s still too soon for that with anyone. So quit pushing your barfly girlfriends in my direction.

Sarah takes that better than I had expected she would. Normally when you talk trash about your friends friend they get all indignant and puff up on you. Not Sarah though, she does what she always does and laughs it off.

Sarah McKinnes: I get that Mac, but you can’t mourn forever.

That flare of anger courses through me but I quickly kill it with another sip from the glass. I smile at my cousin and see the concern in her face. Before I can say anything else, a young man, who might be old enough to drink, maybe not. He approaches me and Sarah and I see her cringe a bit.

Sarah McKinnes: Mac Bane meet Charlie Thibedoux. He’s a friend of Missy’s.

I see the look on his face, he’s drunk and he’s pissed. He’s looking for a fight and I can’t help but laugh. The bartender see’s it too and shakes his head. I lay a roll of twenties on the bar.

Bartender: Thanks Mac.

Mac Bane: No problem chief.

Charlie Thibedoux: Oh, but there’s a huge fucking problem old man!

I sigh, there’s that word again. I stand up and this young wood-be Lion takes a swipe at me. I sigh again as I catch his hand in mine. That’s when it dawned on him that this was a mistake. My hand engulfing his own. I smile at him and pat him on the shoulder.

Mac Bane: Charlie, you’re an idiot.

With that I slam my forehead into his, he drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Bartender: I’ll have to call the sheriff's office now.

Sarah back peddles to where Missy is sitting and staring at her on again off again boy friend.

Mac Bane: Missy, you should probably marry this boy in men’s clothing.

Bartender: Well shit.

I look up and see his friends, three of them, this should prove interesting.

Mac Bane: You three must be the Calvary.

They look at each other, obviously confused. I shake my head in amusement. Which only makes them more angry. They drag Charlie away and prop him up in a chair and talk among themselves. It’s always the little ones you have to worry about.

Bartender: Two o’clock, pool cue.

I nodded my thanks to the bartender and actually wait on the kid. He smashes the cue across my shoulders. I sigh, then take the last sip of my scotch.

Mac Bane: Could you refill my glass please.

He nods as I stand up once again. I think the fact that I didn’t go down immediately both terrifies the young man and amazes him. I take my jacket off and tap on the back panel. He hears the sound. I had the back panel reinforced with graphite years ago.

Mac Bane: Kid, this ain’t my first rodeo.

He looks up at me now that I’m standing at my full height. He begs off and I let him go.

Mac Bane: Fucking juveniles. Do they not raise men in this town any more? They hit like bitches these days.

About that time the Sheriff and a couple of deputies arrive. I turn around and look at who it is and laugh.

Mac Bane: Jasper County's finest, or something like that.

The Sheriff, who I’ve known since high school and happens to be Sarah’s husband, approaches.

Sheriff McKinnes: Well, what happened?

I smile my most endearing smile at him.

Sheriff McKinnes: Cut the crap Mac.

I shrug and turn around and begin enjoying my drink again.

Mac Bane: Dumb asses were itching for a fight, so I obliged them. Simple as that.

I hear the big man sigh, he starts to say something but probably thinks better of it. I see all this in the bar mirror and smile. I raise my glass.

Mac Bane: A toast to Jasper County’s finest.

The sheriff and his boys escort the locals out of the bar.

Mac Bane: Such as they are.

I take the last sip of my drink and set the glass back down.

Mac Bane: Keep the money.

I stand up and grab my Stetson and head for the door.

Mac Bane: Hell, I should probably tell Trent he needs better drinking partners. At least I don't get arrested.

I laugh as the scene fades

Fade

-----------

{Day of Chaos 77 - Baltimore}

One thing I’ve discovered over the years, wrestling companies love to get their sound bites. So, here I am once again recording a quick bit for the upcoming taping. I’m in full ring attire, standing on a sound-stage with a Carnage backdrop. I have my sledgehammer up across my shoulders.

Producer: Whenever you’re ready Mr. Bane.

I smile and nod at him, I had thought for a while about what I was going to say for this promotional package. I hadn’t come up with much to say about my opponent or about Carnage really.

Mac Bane: Every young person who comes into this business dreams of gold and title reigns. They all want to make their mark on it, something they can say, “Hey! Look what I did!”. A lot of those dreams die in the wrestling ring when they run into someone like me. I don’t step between those ropes with dreams of gold or title reigns. I’ve had those on more occasions than you could possibly count. I'm currently the Brawl Champion of VCW. A belt I won in a last man standing match. It's an unsanctioned championship. It's unsanctioned because they don't want to be responsible for the damage done by people like me. "Flawless" Jimmy Edwards; I don’t give a damn about these pretty boy spot monkeys that everyone else goes nuts over. They look real damn good up until someone like me jerks their puny ass out of the air and introduces them to the canvass repeatedly.

I take the hammer from across my shoulders, holding it one handed so the camera can see the brand.

Mac Bane: You see that? That’s something that the biggest majority of you do not have and likely never will. It’s called a brand children. It brings a lot with it, another thing most of you don’t get. None of you are smart enough to have a brand and so you depend on hand outs from Jason Bridges. It doesn't cover much of anything at all does it? A lot of you boys and girls have to eat fucking top ramen at night because you don’t make enough to buy anything else. His little bullshit bonuses don't cover shit. The clothes on my back are worth more than that hoopty that some of you clowns have to drive to the arena.

I lower the hammer back by my side, still glaring at the camera. I take a torch from a nearby table and begin heating the brand on my hammer until it begins to glow.

Mac Bane: The One Man Wrecking Crew says you have no honor, you have no integrity. You’ll get branded as such either with words or by my actions. Usually both. You’ll become just another victim. I hope Jimmy that you come with your “A” game, it won’t be enough princess, but I hope you at least try. I love the sound of hearing a grown ass man cry.

With that I slam the head of the sledgehammer into the wooden floors. The sizzle, the smell of burning sealer and wood. The smile of pure ecstasy on my face as I for the first time in a long time let the feeling of pending destruction rushes through my veins. Not mine ...theirs.

Fin