“I was never trying, necessarily, to be an outlaw. It was just the place in which I found myself.” - Hunter S. Thompson
{Baltimore, MD - Bane’s Home- “Friendship and Death”}
Off-Camera
The evening air was crisp in Baltimore, not uncomfortably so, but it was noticeable. It was six p.m. and I was alone. I hadn’t seen Amber very much since the proposal. It’s hard to explain how I felt right now. She didn’t say no but she didn’t say yes either. Everything seemed out of whack and not quite so perfect as it was the night I asked her. We hadn’t split up, I think we were each trying to figure out where to go from here. I’d talked to my old friend Bryan last night, he was as usual his cheerful self. This guy always had a silver lining, a real sunny side type. He was in good spirits as always, talking about his promotion at work and how well his wife Kelsey was doing at Lockheed. She was a senior systems engineer now, that made him so proud. He told me that she was taking the dogs down into Oregon today and how much he loved life in Washington. He hated politics but we didn’t discuss those types of things anymore. He was full time working from home these days and was having issues decompressing at the end of the day, he no longer had that hour drive home to help with that.
A few weeks earlier, I had suggested that he go sit in his car and listen to his go home station for an hour to simulate his old routine. He said that was working like a champ and he was doing much better. The wind had suddenly started to turn colder, in the old days, my great great grandmother would have called that a bad sign. As if on queue my phone lit up, it was Kelsey. This couldn’t be good because she never calls me, sure we’d spoken a time or two when Bryan would put me on speaker….I slid the bar over to accept the call. The sounds coming out of the speaker were of a woman who was having a nightmare come to life.
“Mac! It...it...it’s Kelsey….”
The sobs coming through were heart wrenching. Now reaching hysterical levels.
“Kelsey, what’s wrong?”
I managed to say, while she was trying to breath through the ungodly heavy sobbing.
“Mac, he fucking killed himself! Bryan is dead!”
If you’ve never had your heart ripped out of your chest, you cannot imagine the pain. I must have dropped the phone, I’m really not sure. The next thing I knew it was ringing again. I could hear it. I got up unsteadily and made my way to the origin of the sound. We had a shed about twenty feet past the fire pit. Kelsey was calling me back. I slid the bar over again.
“Kelsey, I am so sorry...we got disconnected.”
It wasnt that I lied to her, because I honestly couldn’t remember what happened with the phone. Did I throw it out of anguish or anger? As she continued to tell me about Bryan through the pain in her heart.
“When...I uhm...got back with the dogs. I, I uh opened the garage door.”
Silence again, I’m thinking she’s trying to collect her thoughts. More labored breathing.
“That….that’s whe..when I found him Mac.”
More sobbing, I could hear her let the phone drop away from her face.
“He...he was...uh in his car, Mac. You know...like you had suggested. The uh...radio...was up full blast.. So, you know...I uhm...uh...I went up to the window thinking...thinking….”
I feel fresh hot tears stream down my own face now.
“Take your time kelsey.”
She sobs again, and I can hear the distress in her voice.
“That’s when...when….I saw...do you...you remember…*sniff* when uh...you had bought him that pistol….”
My eyes have turned into a river now, nothing, not even god himself could dry them.
“I do...Kelsey….”
“He uh...he shot himself Mac. He shot himself with that fucking pistol.”
That statement; that stunned me into silence. I remembered the day I had bought that gun for him. When I won the world championship for the first time. I had used part of the bonus to buy him that desert eagle. It was his favorite handgun, and it was his twenty-fifth birthday.
“Mac?...did we get disconnected again?...”
I don’t let the silence go too long before I respond.
“No Kels, I’ll be on the next flight.”
Her response was almost too light to hear.
“Thank you Mac, I don’t think I can do this by myself.”
I dropped the call with Kelsey, I must have sobbed like a child for a good hour. When I finally checked my phone, I saw I had several missed calls from Amber. Trent had been extremely active on Twitter. He was drunk...on a plane…
“Fucks sakes...I can't do twice in one fucking day, the hits just keep coming….”
I knew what was going on with Trent but only partially. I had already lost one friend today and I’ll be damned if I was going to lose another. I couldn’t do anything about BK but hopefully I could help Trent or at least keep him from doing something stupid.
Fade
{Las Vegas, NV - Bane’s House - “Jack”}
The man, Jack Michaels was an interesting guy. Right now he seemed very happy to just be in Carnage. He’d not said anything about any titles, other than perhaps us making a run at the tag titles. I knew that Amber was worried about him and his recently odd behavior. I tried to calm her fears but Jack taking a dip in the pool with all of his clothes on...well...there really wasn’t much I could say to that. My house didn’t have a swimming pool, so it was fairly safe territory. Well, as far as Amber was concerned. I mean, unless he threw himself on the firepit, there really wasn’t much he could hurt himself on. Unknown to Jack, our pairing was not accidental, it was something that I requested. A certain person was very worried about her dad and so I promised to do my best to look out for him. Working out together and hanging out together was two-fold. First and foremost, I could keep an eye on him, secondly it would help us build on the dynamic we saw in the first match. It really was quite amazing that the two of us worked so well off of each other. If we were going to make a serious run at Cat and Marlow, we had to iron out some of the kinks in our execution. The only way to do that was quite literally familiarity.
So, here we are at my place, back deck, sunshine, smoker going with both ribs and brisket well underway. It was still early afternoon, the meats had been smoking since about five this morning. They would be ready in a little while, so that allowed Jack and I to have some time to talk.
“What exactly happened Mac?”
The older man asked me, I smiled a little wistfully and cleared my throat before responding.
“Well Jack, she didn’t say yes.”
He nodded his head, and I figured that she told him about the proposal.
“But she didn’t flat reject it either, right?”
“Right.”
I say, then getting up, I open the damper on the smoker a little more. The temperature had started to drop off a bit so I added a little more mesquite to the fire.
“Look Jack, it’s fine. I get it.”
He studies me for a moment and then smiles.
“Strangely enough, I think you do understand her, probably better than anyone ever has.”
I smile at Jack, and appreciate him trying to sooth my wounded ego. Amber and I would be fine, and I would continue to try and figure out why she wouldn’t accept my proposal. Maybe she just doesn’t understand that I would literally move mountains for her. That it didn’t matter what she did that I would always be by her side. Hell, I’d yell it from the rooftops if I thought it would make a difference. That would have to wait though, for now Jack and I had to focus on this match. There was a lot at stake. Jack’s daughter Amber arrived just in time to hear the tail end of our conversation. She had my daughter Jules in tow as well.
“Have you two come up with a team name?”
Amber asks politely and Jules nudges her and they laugh. Jack and look at them and then each other, rolling our eyes we chuckle.
“No, actually with everything going on, we really hadn’t discussed it.”
I admitted to the girls, causing them to both laugh a little more. It’s Jack’s daughter Amber that speaks up first. Evidently they had given this a ton of consideration and probably had the marketing all planned out in advance, including their cut.
“The SOBs”.
Again, Jack and I look at them then at each other. He mouthed at me without saying the words out loud, “the ess oh bees”? I put on my shocked face.
“Such language, and from such pristine young ladies.”
It was at that moment that Red made her entrance and I looked up and smiled at her. She returned it, although I could see some anxiety in her eyes but then it was gone.
“The Salty Old Bastards”
She quipped, causing the girls to laugh harder. Jack and I look at her and then each other.
“I like it.”
Jack hesitates but only for a moment.
“It’s accurate.”
More laughter as I check on the smoker again. I check each item making sure that the internal temperature is right. I start pulling the meats off and onto a metal tray. Jack’s daughter takes the tray as her and Jules head inside to set it on the counter to rest. Jack grabs a few things from the table nearby and follows them, leaving Amber and I alone by the smoker.
“Well, they got everything, I guess that leaves me with nothing to hold.”
She looks at me as she says that and I smile.
“Not true, love.”
I take her hand in mine, then lifting it up I kiss her hand.
“You’ll always have my hand. No matter what, that will never change.”
Fade
{In-Studio, Baltimore MD - Bane’s House}
I walk into the mini-studio I have set up at home. It still amazes me at the pure silence and great sound we get from this room. Makes me proud that I’m the one who designed this and put everything together myself. I take a seat in my usual place. It’s one of the things I take pride in.
Other things like always doing my best for my kids, you win some and you lose some in that regard.
“That was some fucked up shit wasn’t it kids? Me and Jack against Mitch and Ken’s old lady. Kyra now becomes the special guest referee. Yeah, she’s fucking special alright. I give her all the credit in the world. She’s studying at the feet of a master and she’s obviously taken notes. She’s also about as consistent as he is. One second you’re a worthy contender and the next...you’re nothing but a scrub who shouldn’t even be in the company. Funny how that works, ain’t it?”
I’ve worked my ass off to achieve a certain level of respect in this business. Now, people want to shit on that because I’m teaming with the man who one day may become my father-in-law. I think to myself before continuing.
“So the end of that particular story is that it was a no contest. Why?”
I hit the projector and the image of Zane King shows up on the wall.
As I study the image of Zane, I smile and think to myself, This motherfucker is gonna kill someone if someone doesn’t do something about it. Help him or incapacitate him, something's gotta give.
“Why is the easy part. Two hundred and eighty five pounds of violence is why. At the time, he probably did me a favor, Mitch had the advantage and had me pinned. He of course got choke slammed by the guy who will be his partner this week. Zane then powerbombed me back to my fucking childhood. I’m good with that big boy, I fucking loved it. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt like hell, that’s the part I loved. Knowing Mitch, even the little I do know, this won’t concern him in the least. He and Zane have an understanding. A mutual respect that warriors share when each has taken the best the other has and both walked away.Don’t fret kiddies, Daddy is cleared for this match. It’s time for you children to learn what aggression really fucking looks like. I’ll be offering tutoring after the show. Tutoring is obviously needed for some people around here who wouldn’t know a fact if it bit them on the ass.”
“See, for whatever reason, people believe that I’m just falling in line. Marching to Jack’s tune or possibly Ambers. Something that Mitchell may have missed is that when Joe, Lucy, G and Trent were looking for a fifth person to fight Paragon. They recruited me. I didn’t ask them, JC came to me. I don’t fall in line for anyone, regardless of relationship status or familial association. If that were true, then I’d be Ken’s enforcer and KJ and I would be best of friends. I would say, Mitchell, you should do your research before running your mouth. I get it though, it sounds way cooler to say shit like that even though it’s not true huh? Keep running your mouth, make an enemy out of me and it’ll be an experience you’ll never forget.”
I feel like I can help Zane, I’ve fought men similar to him before. Damn near impossible to hurt but they can be knocked out. I think to myself. I need to focus though, time to talk about Mitch.
“Mitch Heart is an amazing guy really, he can stand toe to toe with anyone in this company. His record doesn’t really reflect exactly how good he is in that ring. The man hits a like a truck and anyone who tells you different is a fucking liar. Mitch, I loved being in the ring with you. You already had my respect, but don’t ever mistake my kindness for weakness kiddo. I’ll straight up fuck you up. I don’t want you to think for a minute that just because I didn't go on and on about your prowess or toughness that I was overlooking you.”
I look back again to the projector that now has Mitch Heart and Zane King side by side, for lack of a better term, it formed a row on my wall.
“Looks like mug shots from Murderers Row don’t it? With damn good reason. Individually they are both almost unstoppable. Mitch with that heart punch of his and Zane with the jackknife powerbomb. They’re tough as hell in singles competition, like I said, almost unstoppable. Let me say this loud enough for the fuckers in the back, no one is unstoppable. Every single competitor in this business has a breaking point. Every single person in this business has a weakness, a flaw, something to take advantage of. You two are no different than anyone else in this business. Tougher than most, but just as susceptible as the rest to certain aspects of strategy and timing.
Mitch is a tough as nails brawler, that’s great for back alley’s and bars. Fucks sake, I ought to know, I’ve been in enough of both to last more than one lifetime. I’m sure, growing up in Detroit, that likely kept you out of the morgue and probably more than once. Your conditioning, strength and persistence are admirable Mitch. The competitor in me likes what you bring to the table. You’ve got the ability to test anyone on this roster, doesn’t matter who we’re talking about. You and Zane, you guys both want the same thing. I’m at the back of the line on that one and I’m good with that. I’ve always been a guy who worked his way up the ladder. According to what I’ve read, your current record is four, one and two, so seven matches into your carnage career. You challenged the Ultra Violent Champ and she accepted. That’s cool broh. I really can’t think of, well, anyplace that would award a guy a shot at the number two belt in the company after seven matches. That’s great though, I’m glad you’re getting the shot. Thing is, she's gonna give a shot to your tag team partner too?
I have a feeling if she doesn’t, this match won’t last that long. Zane is not known for his patience. The Lab Rat King as he likes to call himself. At the end of the day, he’s a man. He bleeds like anyone else, he can lose like anyone else in this company. His only loss, like Silvio, came in a tag team match. The tornado tag match that we’re in is the perfect environment for everyone involved. What I told you Zane, on social media was true. I look forward to matching my violence against yours. I know you’ve grown accustomed to people fearing you, and you don’t understand why I don’t to this point. I can help you with that one big fella. I’ve already died, twice. There’s nothing you can possibly do or say that would ever scare me.”
I allow the smile to fade from my face. Drawing my hair back into a ponytail, I rub the scar at the base of my skull.
“Kandahar, Afghanistan in nineteen ninety four. The navy medic who patched me up thought I was dead, they say I had no pulse. A young lady with an AK-47 did the honors.”
I undo the top three snaps on my shirt. Moving the left side of the shirt further to the left. The start of a scar shows on the camera.
“Dallas, Texas in nineteen ninety six. I’ll spare the details but that scar runs from my collar bone down to my navel. A maniac with a machete tried to end my life over a poker hand. Pocket Kings will fuck you over more often than not.”
I button my shirt back up and allow a smile, albeit a smaller smile to come back to my face.
“What do you two have in common with the AK wielding terrorist and the idiot who was a terrible poker player? That’s the easy part, they both told me they were going to kill me. What else do you have in common with them? They obviously both failed. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been so reckless over the course of my career. Like you, they thought they were unique. Like you, they thought that their beliefs and the way that they felt about the situation at the time gave them the right to take something from me. No one gets to take something from me without facing consequences. Not even you Zane King.
Zane, I know that in your mind, that Jack and I are simply in your way. Much like your partner is simply in the way. He’s got a title shot, but you don’t. When they talk about people who deserve this and deserve that. No one ever mentions you. Not Mitch or any of them, for them, it’s because they fear you. Not Silvio though, he’s a good man with good intentions. I think that the man that lays beneath all that anguish and rage is a good man as well. He just needs to be freed from whatever it is that’s keeping him caged up. I’m simply the man who likes to help others.The difference between them and me is fear and resources. They can’t say what I’ve said and not lie about it. They don’t know what real war is, you and I do though. Can you really trust Mitch to do the right thing and watch your back? Can he trust you to watch his back?
I think you can and probably will for a bit, until one of you gets frustrated that is. I know that I can without a doubt trust Jack to have my back. Trust and respect are earned, even here in Carnage. Jack and I know one another, we have common ground and time in the business together. What do you both have other than a mutual hatred for him? You’ve got nothing other than you both love to inflict harm on others. How long do you suppose it will be before Zane decides that Mitch doesn’t deserve a shot at Kyra and takes matters into his own hands? Jack and I are damn near family, we will watch each other's backs without fail. We would sacrifice our own bodies for each other. Can you say that about your partner in this match? Do you know what it’s like to have friends that are more family than your own blood? People who would show up at the hospital when your hurt just to check on you? Jack and I have that, you do not. There’s something else that we have as a team.
Jack and I, we have chemistry in the ring. I won’t lie, it really surprised me, although it shouldn’t have. We are of a generation of wrestlers, who, well we can actually wrestle. Between us, the amount of experience in and out of the ring is pretty impressive. We had put in the work before the match against Kyra and Mitch, but we didn’t think afterwards that it was enough. We’ve been able to focus on a lot of the little things that will really help going forward. Not in this match however, tornado rules are a beast of a different flavor altogether.
Texas Tornado Rules tag matches are a long time favorite of mine. Two teams, no tagging in and out. Makes me smile, it’s basically a tag team street fight. That’s fine by me, I love the fight, I love the site of my own blood but the spilling of theirs? That makes me happy. A chance to release all the pent up emotion and rage. A chance to show them, and to remind others just who the fuck we are.
Even knowing the reputation of both of us.
Studying our matches or listening to what we have to say.
It’s not enough.
Even though Mitch has already been in the ring with us, that’s still not enough.
Even if you’d been in the ring with Jack and I a thousand times, it wouldn’t be enough.
Having Kyra as the guest referee will not be enough. All of the advantages you think you have?
Think about this.
We are students of the game and as the business has evolved, so have we. The men you’re fighting aren’t just some slackers who are a big fish in a small pond. We earned our stripes in countless places and have fought in countless wars. We’re not taking you lightly, only returning the same level of respect you’ve given.
Zero.
This outlaw thing you’re trying to pull? Been there, and done that. You’re a poor imitation.
