Grass Roots Revival Part 2

{The Crooked M Ranch - Port Arthur, Texas - Early Morning}

The sun was just rising as I led “Devil’s Advocate” from the stable onto the grass that was still wet with the morning dew. I was speaking softly to him, apologizing for the lack of time I had for him these days. He was only four years old, very young by quarter horse standards. He was full of piss and vinegar this morning as he kept nudging me in the back causing me to stumble. I laughed and smacked him on the nose. He whinnied at me as if we were sharing some kind of inside joke.

Mac Bane: Well, ya little bastard, you ready to go?

He snorts at me and bobs his head up and down as if he understood every word I said. I move around to the left side of him and put my booted foot into the stirrup. Hoisting myself up into the saddle, I slide my leg over and place my right foot into the stirrup. Taking up the reigns I start him off walking. He’s eager so I have to literally reign him in. I don’t want a repeat of last summer where his eagerness became a ligament issue.

Mac Bane: Slowly my friend, we’ll get there.

As if understanding my intent he does indeed ease up, complying with my requests we ease into an easy walk. Then I let him begin to trot around the pasture. After I’m reasonably sure he’s sufficiently warmed up I nudge him with the heels of my boots and we go into a full gallop. I can feel mine and his tension just flow out of us as we race around the pasture. This horse had been my solace for the last two years. He had been Melissa’s favorite of all of our horses, and quickly became mine as well. Now that he had a good lather built up from our morning run I start slowing him down. Gallop down a fast trot, then a walk. The cool down process with this breed of horse was just as important as warming them up properly. I pat his neck as we slowly make our way back towards the stable. One of the stable hands, a young kid named Luke comes out of the stable as we reach our destination. He holds out his hand for the reigns which I toss to him.

Luke McCormik: Good ride this morning Mr. Bane?

I smile at the kid as I climb down off of “Devil’s Advocate”

Mac Bane: No such thing as a bad one kid.

He returns my smile and starts to lead the horse back into the stable.

Mac Bane: Rub him down good and there’s fresh apples in the bin for him.

Luke McCormik: Will do sir.

He was always respectful and kind, good kid, and damn good with the horses. Melissa said he was a natural with animals. I feel the lump in my throat begin to build again as I think of her. She’s been gone a year and I just can’t seem to let go. The emotions from that loss are still very fresh and raw to me. In time I’ve been told the rawness of it will ease a bit. My feelings of grief and guilt is interrupted by the sound of an atv coming thru the pasture at top speed. I step away from the stables to greet my foreman Jim as he comes to a screeching halt not far from the stables. He kills the motor and leaps off of the atv and comes running up. I take off my riding gloves and shake hands with my long time friend. He looks flustered and nearly in a panic.

Mac Bane: What’s wrong Jim?

Jim Conroy: Three dead calves in the east pasture.

My nostrils flare as the anger surges. I had told that environmental and animal protection group this would happen. I was so glad that my words were wasted on them….

Mac Bane: That fucking cougar again….

Jim nods his head in agreement, obviously as angry as I am.

Jim Conroy: Looks like it, just like last time the throats were ripped out. It’s almost like that cat is fucking with us Mac. The carcasses were barely touched.

Mac Bane: Call that bitch, what was her name?

Jim Conroy: Sheila McGraves I think ...I've got her card.

He pulls his wallet out and finds her business card. He then takes out his cell phone and starts dialing. Placing the call on speaker so I can hear. The call goes to voicemail, I grab his phone to leave the message myself.

Mac Bane: Miss McGraves, meet me in my east pasture. That cougar you’ve been trying to protect killed three more of my livestock. That’s three less calves that will make it to market this year. That cat has cost me money for the last time.

Fade

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

{The Crooked M Ranch’s East Pasture - Several hours later}

The temperature had cooled a little, and by a little I mean not really noticeable. That wasn’t the odd thing really, the calf carcasses were. There was something not quite right about the wounds. I stop Jim as he raises his rifle, he has an easy kill shot on the cougar who’s not far away. Less than 70 yards actually.

Mac Bane: Hold up Jim. I think this needs a little more investigation and a little less jumping the gun so to speak.

JIm lowers the rifle giving me a quizzical look in return. Sheila McGraves decides to finally make her presence known as she screams up in her jeep waving a piece of paper like a crazy person.

Sheila McGraves: You stop that right there! I have a signed injunction from a federal judge to prevent you from killing that cat!

I roll my eyes and allow that to go into a sneer.

Mac Bane: You realize that you are on private property? Your injunction doesn’t mean a damn thing to me.I wouldn’t give two shits if that fucking paper was signed by Judge Roy Bean. I’m the only reason that cat isn’t dead already.

She arches an eyebrow and then it furrows as she sees what I’m looking at. Her mouth drops open at the grisly site and she quickly turns away to keep from becoming ill.

Mac Bane: I’m not an expert on Cougars, but I’d say this is not from a cougar attack.

Sheila McGraves: What makes you so certain?

She had finally gotten her stomach to settle down and has finally turned around to face the scene once again. I look up at Jim and he sees the same thing I do, bullet holes right behind the left ear of each calf.

Mac Bane: Jim, did you or any of the boys shoot these calves to put them out of their misery?

Jim Conroy: No sir, they were already dead when we found them.

Satisfied with his answer I look back at her, she’s gone white again. I cuss as she throws up.

Mac Bane: Jim, get her some water, I’m going to do some looking around.

He went back to the atv to grab water and I stood there trying to figure out why anyone would want to make it look like a cougar attacked my livestock. I walked around the scene, I didn’t know what I was looking for. I finally stop as one of the Sheriff's Deputies pulls up not far away. Jason Wayne was a really good cop and a really good man. He strode up to me and began asking the usual questions as I continue to walk the perimeter of the kill site.

Deputy Wayne: Mr. Bane?

I stop as something crunches under my boot. I ease my foot back to reveal a beer bottle that’s been broken.

Deputy Wayne: Mr. Bane can you please step back.

I comply with the Deputies request as he puts on gloves and clears away the broken glass. What’s underneath is far more interesting than the beer bottle. It appears to be metal claws for lack of a better term. A low whistle escaped him as he begins collecting evidence.

Mac Bane: What in the devil is that?

Deputy Wayne: I’ll need everyone to leave the area, I have to call this in.

I look down at the deputy who resumes collecting evidence and then back at the Environmentalist. Jim nods at me and starts escorting her back to her jeep. Still white as a sheet she accepts the guidance without much conversation. This leaves the deputy and I to finish our discussion.

Mac Bane: I don’t think so scooter.

He finishes his call in and glares at me.

Deputy Wayne: This is now a crime scene sir and you’ll need to keep a distance from it or go home, your choice.

I don’t allow my anger to show and getting arrested today is not on my agenda. So, I hold up my hands in mock surrender and step back a few feet. He nods his appreciation and I watch him continue his work while he waits on the sheriff and the forensics team.

Mac Bane: That metal thing you found, does it have a name?

I already knew what they were called but I wanted him to confirm it for me.

Deputy Wayne: Meat claws, like the ones used for BBQ cooking competitions, only these have been modified.

I give the front of my hat a tug in appreciation of the work he was doing and turned to go.

Mac Bane: Thank you Jason, let me know when they turn anything up.

I hear faintly as I make my way back to the atv, “Of course Mr. Bane.”. If he said anything else the motor of the atv drowned him out.

Fade

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

{The Crooked M Ranch - The Main House - The Next Day}

Another hot assed morning in Port Arthur was upon us. One of those mornings that after you’ve taken a shower, you go outside and you need another one before you can even make it to your vehicle.

Mac Bane:Swamp Ass….

I say as I hand bottles of water to the Deputy Jason Wayne and the Sheriff Jonathan David Alexander or JD as he liked to be called. That’s the reason I called him Jonathan, just to piss him off. I could tell they appreciated the water, it was already almost ninety degrees and the humidity was high.

Sheriff Alexander: No shit Mac, thank you for the water, much appreciated. We’re just here to do some follow up on your case.

I nod at him to continue.

Mac Bane: Thanks Jonathan, I do appreciate that. What did you find out?

The sheriff hearing his real name begins turning red from the neck up. I smile at Jason Wayne, his deputy, who can only shake his head.

Deputy Wayne: We did find prints on the claws, they were severely smudged but we think we have a print that can be identified.

The Sheriff now regaining his composure interrupts.

Sheriff Alexander: We have a print, you had a kid that worked here some five years ago….what was his name...the one you called INS on?

I smile, I know exactly who he’s talking about.

Mac Bane: Inez Cabrerra. True, I did do that when I found out he was here illegally.

The Deputy and Sheriff give each other a confused look and then the Sheriff explains.

Sheriff Alexander: Not that one Mac, he died about three years ago trying to sneak back into the country. No, this is a name that should be familiar to you. Kid from Russia….

My brows furrow immediately, I remember that little bastard. He was supposedly a foreign exchange student that was trying to date my daughter.

Mac Bane: I remember Peter, I also remember nearly killing him when he tried to rape Jules.

I saw both men staring at me or behind me with concern on their faces, a quick peek over my shoulder revealed Jules tear streaked face. She was trembling, a clenched piece of notebook paper in her hands. She stepped forward almost in a daze and I caught her as she fell. I vaguely remember Deputy Wayne reading what was on the paper, “I’m baaaaack…..and you and you’re entire family are going to suffer.”. There was more but I tuned it out as I held my daughter’s nearly lifeless body. I held her close while we waited on the paramedics. I didn’t really snap out of it until the EMTs waved something under my nose.

Mac Bane: Amonia….nasty stuff. I’m fine, you can put that away now.

I looked down and they were loading Jules up in the ambulance, I go to join them but the Sheriff stops me.

Sheriff Alexander: It’s good Mac, Jason is going with her.

I don’t even fight him for a change, he’s probably relieved. I step back and feel for the edge of the porch and sit down heavily.

Mac Bane: He’s going to pay for this….

Sheriff Alexander: Did he ever have a key to your house?

I shake my head denying that was possible.

Sheriff Alexander: Is there a spare floating around or hidden in case of emergencies.

Mac Bane: Back steps, false log near the back porch.

To be continued….

Fade.

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

“Things said to me have consequences.” - Mac Bane

It’s a bad time to be standing across the ring from me. You’re more worried about people using your past against you. More worried about that than the man you will be trapped inside of a steel cage with at “We Are Relentless”. Not just anyone, this ain’t Jimmy Edwards you’re in the ring with. This is a man who has made a career of ending the careers of others. When this match was made Jazz, I already knew about your past. That information is old news and like you, it’s not relevant to the current situation. You should probably ask Paragon about being in their witless protection program. Even they would have no chance of preventing what is coming. I’ve said this before, and it may be beating a dead horse in the eyes of some. I’m still going to say it, you told someone you don’t know, to name the stipulation. My initial thoughts were…

She cannot be serious?!

She’s not that stupid!

Really?!

The answers were mind boggling, even worse, they were all true. You did allow me of all people to name the stipulation. When asked about it all you could say was the typical. The obligatory fan favorite response? “I’m not scared. I’ve been in all kinds of matches!”. That’s great, you’re not scared. You’ve been in all kinds of matches. They weren’t with me and the fact that you have no fear makes this even more special. That means you won’t run.

You’re a special kind of stupid.

This is the reason people doubt you Jazz. You make the women of our industry look bad. I have no respect for you. None whatsoever. If you were more like Lucy, then yes you would have my respect. You’re not though. You do have potential though. It might even show up if you weren’t whining so loudly about losing all the fucking time. The truth is this kid, if you’re really tired of someone interupting your matches, fucking do something about it. Like so many of these other kids, you don’t want resolution, you just want to bitch. Just to make sure your voice is heard.

Trust me princess, we all heard the snivelling and whining loud and clear. You haven’t said shit though since the announcement was made. Hell, you’re probably still trying to figure out what you did wrong. Am I right? Regardless Jazz, you fucked up. You said things to me that you should never say. I get it though, you didn't know me and you’re not aware of my reputation. It’s really simple, see I actually have a brand to represent. You don’t start questioning someone’s integrity when you haven’t even known them for a cup of coffee. See, when you do things like that, if I don’t respond it has a negative impact on my personal brand. That’s something I won’t allow.

Again, I understand. It’s the popular thing to do these days. Y’all get on social media and judge people you don’t know every single day...for fun. You’re looking to trigger someone every time you do that. Know what triggers me? Pain, destruction and inflicting misery on others. So now we get to play a game that I find fun Just like you like to judge people, I like to hurt people. The cage itself is not to keep people out though, it’s to make sure that you can’t run away. I had given the demo during Chaos not long ago. The whole concept is what makes it so much fun! You take your average run of the mill table. You wrap it in barbed or razor wire. Then you need to set it on fire. Don’t worry, there will be lighter fluid in the ring. Then you just have to put your opponent through that table while it’s on fire.

See, it’s simple. Oh, and I almost forgot, there’s a bonus! You’ll become fluent in a new language.

Pain.

I could say that it’s not personal, it’s just business but that would be a lie. Every single time I’m in that ring, it’s personal, this business is very personal to me. I love this business more than I do my own safety. Don’t get it twisted though, it’s not about these mouth breather fans that pay to sit there and watch us beat the hell out of each other. No, it’s more, so much more than that. Respect for this industry is what drives me. Not money, titles or fame like that jack wagon running Paragon. The love of inflicting pain on others is what motivates me. Like the gladiators of old, I love the fight, I live for it. This is the part of the show kids, where I’m supposed to tell everyone how I’m going to beat Jazz.

Uh uh...nope!

I’m going to explain to Jazz how to simply survive this encounter. First step is to pick a god you think is fair. Pray that there’s another way out of that cage other than having to put me through one of those tables. When all else fails, and it will. You’ll come to the realization that beggin for mercy or crying for help is worthless. The god you prayed to? His angels are all busy with other cases of charity, they won’t hear your cries for help. The fans will, as will your peers and the man you work for. The fans, that crazy Carnage Legion? They’ll love watching you burn my dear. They won’t lift a finger to help you. All because they simply love the carnage. Your peers? Don’t fool yourself, if you think any of them are going to come to your rescue, you’re diluted. Bridges? He’ll likely be too drunk to care if the last Chaos is any indication. That will leave you with me, inside of a cage. The fire will be burning hotter than ever before and you’ll be wondering just how in the fuck you can get out of this.

You can’t.

I’ve been in sixteen of these matches. My body is scarred, almost as scarred as my mind. My scar tissue has scar tissue kiddo, this match has probably shortened my career by ten years. The really scary part of all of that? The doomsday massacre is by far my favorite match. I’ve lost exactly twice. Both of those losses? “Godly” Ken Davison.

You should go ask “Godly” Ken Davison, he’s the only one who’s ever beat me in this type of match. You can ask and he’ll tell you exactly how fucked you are. You’re not going to find anything in that cage other than pain, misery and the end of your career, if I so choose. There is a reason they call me “The One Man Wrecking Crew”. When I first came into the business, I used cage matches, like this one, to put an end to stables or factions if you will. Those matches were three, and sometimes four to one handicap matches.

I didn’t involve myself in these matches just because someone pissed me the fuck off. No, there is always more to it with me than that. They were lessons in humility. Now that I’m a bit older, and with the number of world titles I’ve won over the years. I not only expect respect from younger wrestlers, I command it. Most of these ladies and men that I work with. They make sure that when they come into the locker room they shake my hand. You obviously missed the lessons on respecting those that came before you. Now you get to learn the lesson of respecting those that are simply better than you.

God damn I love my job!

End…