Grassroots Revival Chapter 3

“Often the strongest blades were pounded the hardest, or scorched the most severely; We judge them by their strength and sharpness, not by their prior rough experiences. With our comrades it should be the same. A good blade is rarely forged in a velvet box.”

― Orsov

{Post Chaos 78 - Baltimore, MD}

[Off Camera]

Another night of chaos and carnage had come to an end. Ken and I had offered our support to what Joe and Lucy were calling “Override” and their mission to destroy Paragon. One of the reasons that I had not been booked was the need to have constant updates from home. The other of course were the second and third degree burns I had suffered at the hands of Jazz in our Doomsday Massacre match. I had been careless and I couldn’t afford to do that again. My daughter Jules was staying with family in Louisiana, far away from home. She was in protective custody at the moment. The sheriff was relaying information to me indirectly to hide her location as best as he could. “I’ve always been crazy” by Waylon Jennings interrupts my introspection, I look down and see the number of Sheriff Alexander. I slide the bar over to accept the call.

Mac Bane: Hey, news for me?

Sheriff Alexander: Good news actually.

He almost growled the answer but that’s the way he speaks, no malice or anger there at all. Maybe mild annoyance with me, but that’s also normal, I can be a bit abrasive where my family is concerned. The Sheriff continues.

Sheriff Alexander: We caught him Mac, he did have that backdoor key on him when he was picked up. Once we get him processed and sent home, I think you can bring baby girl home.

A cautious but optimistic smile spreads across my face. If the man were standing in front of my I’d give him a hug.

Mac Bane: That’s damn good news right there son.

My response was almost a bellow, so much so that it catches the attention of some of the medical staff. They shake their heads and then continue with their work. I have so many questions right now and so I plod along with the phone call.

Mac Bane: How was he caught, where was he caught…

The Sheriff sighs before continuing.

Sheriff Alexander: Not over the phone Mac, you know better. I’ll explain everything when I see you next. Speaking of which, when are you going to be back in town?

Mac Bane: I’ll be on the next flight to Houston.

I take a brief look at my watch and then the ticket in my hand.

Mac Bane: I’m headed to the airport now, my plane leaves in about three hours. I’ll hit you up tomorrow and we’ll talk some more.

I end the call with a press of a button on the face of the phone. A supremely triumphant smile on my face. “Pretty big smile for a man who just got possibly the toughest draw for the qualifying round.” I look over my shoulder, not that I needed to see the face of the person who spoke the words. Jason Bridges stood there with a smirk as big as my home state. Obviously pleased with himself he continues.

Jason Bridges: It’s what happens when you put support behind people like JC, Lucy, Trent and Sebastian.

He shrugs matter of factly as if it were all self explanatory and that I should have expected this. I return his shrug and smirk and do exactly what he wants me to, I ask him who.

Mac Bane: Toughest draw in the tournament huh? Who is this superstar?

Jason Bridges: Oh, you know her already I believe you were in BW at or around the same time. Does the name Amber Ryan resonate with you at all?

I arched my eyebrows in surprise, he smiles, and I laugh.

Mac Bane: Well son, I give you credit, you at least did a little research. Do you remember when Trent told you that this would blow up in your face?

I watch as his shoulder visibly get tighter and he sets his jaw to respond but I cut him off as he’s about to speak.

Mac Bane: The fuse is lit mother fucker, if I were you I’d find a place to hide until this all blows over. I wouldn’t want you to get caught in the blast.

With that I reach out and straighten his tie and pat him on the shoulder. His face begins to redden as I brush past him.

Fade.

For a long time, I had been prescribed Risperdal to help with my destructive temper. This had been forced on me time and again as I went from company to company. My contract in Carnage though, it has no such stipulation. So I had spoken with my doctor and we had a plan to wean me off of my medication. It would be gradual so the side effects such as rage would be lessened. I looked at the half pill on the counter and the glass of water. I drank the water and threw the pill in the garbage can nearby. I then dropped the pill bottle in the same receptacle and smiled to myself. It had been the only thing that made me smile in a while.

As a father it always rips your heart out when you hear one of your children say, “I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe again.”. That was exactly what Jules had said to me just moments earlier. It’s not that I didn’t understand the whys of it. I understand very well, and so do her brothers. We’ve all felt that way at one time or another in our lives. It’s as natural as breathing but the young man who did this to her, he was a savage brute. He had scarred her in a way that I’m not sure she’ll ever be able to heal from. That, as a man and more importantly as a father, is what causes my rage. It threatens to send me back to a state of mind that no one wants to see or relive. When you reduce a man to his base instincts, all that’s left is a brutal animal. My thoughts are interrupted by the hand on my shoulder and someone off in the distance saying my name. I look up and see Sheriff Alexander.

Sheriff Alexander: You okay Mac?

He asked the rhetorical question, he knew full well that I was not okay. Quite the opposite. He knew I was more angry today than I’d been in all the years he’s known me. He’s known me since kindergarten. We’ve met. Instead of a smart assed comment, I sigh and nod my head kind of mumbling.

Mac Bane: Yeah Chief, I’m okay. Mostly.

I had come to south louisiana to pick up my daughter and take her home. Unfortunately for all concerned, she no longer felt safe in that house. My oldest son Jimmy had a nice place in Dallas and was on his way to come pick her up.

Sheriff Alexander: I know you’re struggling with this Mac.

Before he can say another word, I round on him, I cover the distance quickly until we are nose to nose.

Mac Bane: You have no idea what I’m dealing with Alexander, not a fucking clue.

Just as quickly as I acted, I backed off.

Mac Bane: Sorry, you didn’t deserve that.

He looks at me, smiling he nods his head.

Sheriff Alexander: You’re right, I have no idea whatsoever. I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest you see someone about that temper of yours.

I hold up my hand forestalling any more commentary about my outburst.

Mac Bane: Nope.

He studied me for a moment, shrugs his shoulders. At least he’s given up on that line of questioning and thought.

Sheriff Alexander: That’s fine Mac, my official answer to your request is no. I won’t allow you to see the defendant before he is processed for deportation. I won’t allow you to jeopardize this Mac, not for any reason.

I start to retort with something vile but I let my hand drop to my side.

Mac Bane: I understand. I know you’re just doing your job and trying to do the right thing.

Sheriff Alexander: That’s awful….kind of you to say Mac.

I shoot him a grin, he usually receives the fake ones but this time it’s genuine.

Mac Bane: It’s more than most get.

He must have realized it was genuine as he shakes his head and laughs.

Sheriff Alexander: That’s fair.

I nod my head and then ask what I consider to be fair questions.

Mac Bane: Where was he caught?

The Sheriff gives me a long look, an almost apologetic one.

Sheriff Alexander: Not far from the safehouse, we’re still not sure how he traced her location.

“Likely the same way that we do.”, I look up to see what you might expect of a bureau type. He walks with too much swagger and confidence as he enters the room.

Sheriff Alexander: Mac, meet Special Agent Thibedoux.

I nod at the agent, and he returns the gesture as we shake hands.

Special Agent Thibedoux: Mr. Bane, a pleasure to meet you sir.

Mac Bane: You were saying something about the way your organization tracks cell phones?

He nods, but he pauses as if considering how much to say.

Special Agent Thibedoux: I suppose giving you the scientific explanation wouldn’t hurt anything.

He pauses, taking a step back from me, he begins to pace.

Special Agent Thibedoux: Are you familiar with signal triangulation?

He stops, as he waits on my response.

Mac Bane: I am, I’m ex-military so I know the science behind it.

He looks at me as if seeing me for the first time.

Special Agent Thibedoux: Navy?

I nod affirming his suspicion.

Mac Bane: Seabees to be more precise.

He nods again.

Special Agent Thibedoux: Impressive, construction battalions are an amazing group of men and women. Anyway, yes we picked him up and he had a device that would allow him to triangulate a cell phone signal. We also found a house key on him, we assumed it was yours from the false log near your back door.

He hands me the key and I nodded my thanks.

Mac Bane: I’m guessing you won’t be needing this for your evidence?

Special Agent Thibedoux:It won’t be needed. Between the handwriting experts, the dna samples and his confession, it’s wrapped up pretty tightly.

I absorb each item as it’s delivered, as if reading my mind he continues his commentary.

Special Agent Thibedoux:It’s almost as if he was trying to get caught.

I arched an eyebrow in response to his comment and then frown.

Mac Bane: Sheriff, where is my daughter right now?

Sheriff Alexander: She’s not far away, why do you ask?....oh shit….

He jumps on a standard telephone and calls the safe house.

Sheriff Alexander: Yeah, find her and turn her cell phone off! Now!

A few tense moments pass and he gets confirmation that her cell has been turned off and that she had been found. Within minutes a black SUV pulls up in front of the building, my daughter Jules is escorted in quickly by armed agents. I embrace her as she enters the room.

Mac Bane: I’m sorry Jules….

She doesn’t release the hug and buries her face into my chest, sobbing quietly, more pain, more heartache. It’s almost more than a father can bear. Now someone has to pay and since I can’t get my hands on the young man that did this to her. Amber Ryan will have to suffice.

Fade….

The Season of the Witch qualifying round. An interesting gathering of talent to say the least. Lord Raab; a legend in this business, a man with few peers to say the least. Isaiah Luck, Eli Good, Calvin Harris, although I don’t know why, didn’t he have a shot recently? Melody Lennox, oh god more Paragon garbage. Trent Steel, my man. “Godly” Ken Davison, my brother from another mother. Jaiden Rishel, dumbass. I think that’s everyone, or at least anyone worth mentioning. A qualifier for a world title shot. Some have been world champion here, some have been world champion elsewhere and most are hall of fame worthy anywhere. That includes my first round opponent Amber Ryan.

Dear,

sweet,

Sweet,

misguided Amber.

The Queen of Carnage.

The Mistress of Chaos.

A young woman whose reputation and accolades precede her everywhere she goes. A young woman who I am familiar with, although this will be our first time to face one another. I was in Boardwalk when she won those anarchy titles, but then again, everyone on the roster had done that at least twice. I was backstage when you went toe to toe with my son Jimmy Allen and he wiped the mat with you. Still though, a worthy competitor, someone I have a lot more respect for than Jazz Cordova or her gal pal Myra Lynnwood. At least Amber has a legacy. She is a former world champion and that alone is worthy of respect. I always pay it where it’s due. However when you present yourself as a disrespectful twat waffle, that’s where I draw the line. That’s where any respect I might have paid you is gone. I haven’t watched your promo as of yet and why would I. The Lion cares not for the opinion of sheep.

Funny thing about sheep, The first thing that happens to sheep when they are pinned? They get fleeced, then they get slaughtered. Your so called family has already fleeced you of your pride and competitive edge. They have willingly stolen from you, taken that ever so important spotlight away from you. For what reason Amber? Jealousy? We all know how much Jack likes playing second fiddle to anyone. So, he sets you down a path that takes you a year to recover from. Then you agreed to face me in this qualifier. Sure, you’ve been keeping in shape, but you haven’t been wrestling.

You’re like a pro football player who has time left on his contract, but he’s not he highest paid in the league anymore, so he holds out. Then he finally gets that money but when he comes back he realizes he should have had his ass in camp all along. It’s not like riding a bicycle kid. Not when you step in between those ropes with the likes of me. I don’t play well with others in case you haven’t noticed. I dropped another young woman through a double stack of flaming tables. I didn’t do it because of disrespect, but because I wanted to. It made me happy. It’s the language I’ve always spoken my dear. I know you think you speak it fluently but you’ve never in your career, been in the ring with someone like me.

I was ultraviolent long before it was cool or a buzzword. When you look at my scars, they tell a story, my story. My story is not for the weak of heart. It’s a long list of matches that go from traditional wrestling to and through the extreme era. I was never a fit for this so-called PG era. Now that the industry has moved on from that childish bullshit, now that Carnage is rising. Now that the legion is recognized as a legit force in this industry. Now that it’s you and I, you can see what Carnage really looks like.

I could blast you for coming back just to throw yourself back into a situation that caused you to run like the little girl that you are. Maybe you’re facing your demons? Maybe you just can’t stay away from Jack? I honestly don’t know why, you’re a far better athlete than he ever thought about being. You were certainly a better champion. No one can ever argue that point. The real point is this; while you’ve been off this past year, attempting to heal your mind, body and spirit. I’ve been active, I’ve been busting heads open for fucking fun. It’s not because they pay me to do it, it’s because I live for the blood. It’s all I play for chica, but you’ll find that out all too soon. Trust me, I love my fucking job. Look at the bright side kid, I just made you relevant again. You’re welcome.