Revolution: The 'Bright Side'

Actors are weird aren't they?

Day in, day out, they pretend to be something they're not. They play the role of the villain or the hero, the underdog, the monster or the messiah. They pretend to be the sports star who overcame all the odds or the bad ass anti-hero who spends their days ridding the world of the evil that infests it.

They're constantly living a lie, telling themselves that they're someone else. You know why I think they do it? I think they do it because they're ashamed, they want to pretend they're someone else because they aren't satisfied with who they really are.

That's exactly what I think you're doing Jayson. I think you're telling yourself that you're not some miserable kid who despite the fame and money is secretly just as f***ing miserable as the rest of us.

But the problem you're going to find, Jayson, is that this isn't a film. You've not been cast in the role of the young underdog who joins a pro wrestling promotion and wins Scars & Stripes a month in to their career. There is no epic conclusion that sees Jayson Garrett become the WFWF Champion at SuperBrawl. There will be no confetti, no champagne, no party... not for you anyway.

You can say that you're 'The Golden Boy', the 'Next National Champion'. But you're only lying to yourself.

There will be no Rocky Balboa style heroics Jayson. Because you're not anything special, you're not the future of this industry. You're not the 'Best Technical Wrestler In The World'. No, what you are is nothing more than a Cameron Stone, a Daniel Sabat, a Raiden Takahashi, a Leo Krause. You're exactly the same as each and every one of the guys who came in to the WFWF claiming to be the next big thing and ended up being upstaged by me, a skinny Englishman.

No amount of fame will save you from the same fate, none of your rich friends are going to get you to the top. No amount of acting talent is going to save you from the ass-kicking that awaits and nothing that the Los Angeles Wrestling Domain taught you, is going to protect that Hollywood smile of yours.

You're a fraud and I'm going to expose that to your army of fans. Not because I particularly dislike you, but because it's something to do while I wait to finally get my hands on Trace Demon and Devilkiller.

***

July 2nd 2010 – The SuperBrawl VI Celebration
It may have been 11 in the morning and sure the party had already been going for about 9 hours but with Joe Bishop set to arrive with his National Championship at any moment, everyone knew that this party was only just beginning. The champagne was flowing as Jessica, her friends and Jake's friends still filled Joe Bishop's minuscule flat hours after he had been named National Champion for the first time. Furniture, CDs, bottles and Doritos were randomly distributed around the room, although to be fair that was true of the flat's state most of the time and still is.

The room, that had been blaring out music all night, was hushed for a moment as a car was heard pulling up outside. The swarm of people that filled the small apartment waited expectantly as the car doors slammed shut and the sounds of footsteps were eventually heard outside the door of the flat. Then came the rustling of keys as the entire room fell silent. The door swung open and the excited crowd got their first glimpse of Joe Bishop, the National Championship draped over his shoulder both of his hands holding it in place.

“Surprise!”

Within a second one of the hands that had been clinging on to the National Championship had been ripped away and a glass had been forced into it. It was quickly filled with champagne as the music resumed, to the disappointment of the neighbors I'm sure. Jake, who had driven Bishop to his flat, followed close behind Joe and went to speak to some of the guests while Joe headed straight for Jessica who had a beaming smile across her face.

“Well Done.”

Jessica embraced Joe who, with one hand holding the champagne and one still firmly attached to the National Championship, failed to reciprocate.

“Thanks”

“Can I hold it then?” she blurted out, holding her hands out expectantly.

“Sure” Bishop responded, reluctantly. He draped the title over her arms, one hand still firmly attached to the strap of the belt.

“Wow, that's heavy”

“Yeah” he replied, lifting the title away from her and placing it back over his shoulder.

The party continued for a good couple of hours, with Bishop keeping hold of his National Championship constantly, not letting go of the title he'd fought for so long to win for even a second. Eventually the music began to die down a little and one or two headed home. But one moment would kill the party dead there and then and set in motion the sequence of events that would take Bishop from pure elation to abject misery.

Ring... Ring... Ring...

Jake went over to the phone, music still pounding out of the speakers. A loud “What?” from Jake, the phone pressed to his ear, quickly halted that though and once again the room fell silent. “Of course... I'll... tell her... I'm so sorry” he struggled through that sentence before putting the phone down and turning to his half sister. “Jess... it's your Dad... he's...”

Passed away. Died. Dead. Gone. In a better place.

His funeral was on the 19th, not that I'd be present. I had to be on a plane heading for a rematch with Jon O'Deeves at Loaded. Worst decision I've ever made.

You know for about six hours before that phone call, I had everything I wanted out of life. I was the person I wanted to be. I was happy. I had friends, a woman I loved who despite my failings loved me back and I was the WFWF National Champion. A week later I had none of those things, I had nothing. And ever since that day I've had nothing. Yes I've been the National Championship since, yes I'd talked to both Jake and Jessica briefly. But it wasn't what it had been and in comparison, yeah, it was nothing. It was worthless.

August 10th 2013 – The Battleground 'Celebration'
Joe Bishop's car pulls up outside his block of flats. He gets out, slams the door shut behind him, the National Championship held loosely in his left hand. The new National Champion gets to the door, struggles to find his keys and eventually opens the door to his flat, where he's met by no one.

Bishop flicks on the light, stumbles across the room and falls back into an arm chair. Throwing the National Championship onto a chair opposite as he does so. He stares at his newly acquired belt for a second or two, before turning his attention to the remote on the side of his chair, putting on the TV and beginning to flick through the channels, not settling on any for more than a few minutes.

Hours pass as Bishop remains, silent, in that dark room. Alone. Left with only his mind for company and it wasn't in a friendly mood. Rather than being the best and worst night of his life as it had been three years ago, this night was what had become normal and that wasn't much fun.

***

When Devilkiller held this belt, no one cared about this belt.
When Carter Contra held this belt, no one cared about this belt.
When Jon O'Deeves held this belt, no one cared about this belt.
When Cameron Stone held this belt, no one cared about this belt.
If, somehow, Jayson Garrett wins this belt, not a sole will give two s***s about this belt.

When Joe Bishop is the National Champion, people pay attention. Not because they particularly want to, but because they have to.

My relationship with this championship has been an odd one. Three years ago, when I was starting out in the WFWF, winning the National Championship was all I wanted. I wanted to be able to say that I held a title in the WFWF, that was it, that was all I wanted. I wanted to be able to tell my kids, in twenty years time, that I once held a championship in the greatest wrestling company in the world.

I knew that if I could do it, if I could win that belt, I could die a happy man.

I won it and you know, it felt just as good as I thought it would. At SuperBrawl, the biggest event on the WFWF calender, I won the title that I had been chasing all my life and it was without doubt the greatest moment of my life. As I stood on top of the world, the National Champion in my hand, I knew that anything more I achieved would be a bonus. That when the day came I could retire having done everything I wanted to do.

I guess that's just proves that I'm not always right.

A week later, I had to watch as Jon O'Deeves walked away with my National Championship. The Championship I had given everything to win, that I had worked my entire life to get my hands on. The title I had given blood, sweat and tears to earn.

I couldn't take it and I'm not ashamed to say that, it's the truth. I could have used that loss to motivate myself to become better, but I didn't. I could have turned it into a positive, but instead I turned it into a negative, I let it make me a bitter, twisted, shadow of a man. I did what I always do, I blamed someone else for my own failings.

Two years I sat in the sidelines, desperately wanting to replicate the feeling of that SuperBrawl VI victory, not believing that I ever could.

But then I came back. I fought my way back in to the title picture and within a month, I had a second National Championship reign to my name. And yeah, at first, it felt almost as good as it had the first time I got my hands on this belt.

Soon though, it became clear that being the National Champion just isn't enough. Defending it became a chore and I allowed Carter Contra to take advantage of that, I let him cheat me out of the National Championship. I don't like being cheated, I don't like losing when I don't deserve to lose, no one does. But anger wasn't the overriding emotion. No, what I really felt when I lost that belt... was relief.

I know that sounds odd, but finally I could focus on progressing. I was no longer going to be stuck at the bottom of the card, defending this title against every Tom, Dick and Harry who thought that they were the greatest thing to happen to the WFWF. Losing that belt was what I needed, it allowed me to finally focus on what I really crave, the International Championship and the World Championship. I couldn't prove that I'm as good as I am, if I was forced to face guys like Carter Contra every single week.

Losing that belt was a huge weight off my shoulders, it allowed me to propel myself forward. I got to face the likes of Trace Demon, Mak Cross, Cam Nitta, Yukio Blaze and I proved that I deserve to be in the ring with guys like that.

But now, months after losing that weight that had been hanging round my shoulders, holding me back, I've once again become the WFWF National Champion and it's already clear that I'm going to have to once again rip through guys who've barely had a match in this promotion.

I'm once again the National Champion and honestly winning that belt for a third time didn't make me feel good. It didn't make me feel like a champion. No winning that belt again, just made me feel like I'd had a huge weight put back on to my shoulders.

Unfortunately for you Jayson, I don't need to drop this belt to get back to where I belong. Because on the horizon is Scars & Stripes, an event where no one can stop me from proving just how good I am. Where no one can hold me back by forcing me to deal with men like you.

They say that history repeats itself, and you Jayson, are going to find that out the hard way. Because once again I am going to destroy each and every opponent they throw in front of me. I'm going to send guys who claim to be the 'best wrestlers in the world' packing before they've had a chance to make any impact on this promotion.

And once I've finished. Once I've embarrassed you and the next few guys that are thrown my way, I'm going to win Scars & Stripes and when I get the chance, I'm going to take the International Championship away from Trace Demon. Battleground closed with Joe Bishop standing tall in the middle of the ring, with the National Championship, the International Championship and the World Championship. At SuperBrawl, history is going to repeat itself and there's not a thing that you or Trace Demon or Scarlett Quinn can do about it.

***

“There's a part of me that feels on top of the world. That feels like I could take on all comers. There's a part of me that feels like telling anyone who'll listen that I'm the best damn wrestler on the planet and that I can prove it.”

With his mental state as it was when he returned to the WFWF, paranoid that his entire life had been destroyed by a conspiracy within the WFWF to keep him from achieving what he is capable of, Bishop had been offered a contract by then WFWF owner Xavier Pierce on the condition that he paid to see a psychiatrist for a one hour session once a week. Bishop had honoured this, he had little choice, what he hadn't done however, was utter a single word to the man he had been seeing once a week for over a year. The psychiatrist stood in silence as Bishop entered the room pouring out his soul, partly because he was eager to let Bishop get everything he had been bottling up for twelve months out of his system and partly because he was stunned that he was doing so.

“But there's another part of me... that despises Joseph Bishop. There's a part of me that despises the fact that he doesn't have the guts to put an end to the misery, the loneliness, the emptiness that consumes him. There's a part of me that loathes this weak man who has allowed everyone he loves to pull away from him without doing a thing to stop them, there's a part of me that just wishes that he would put a gun to his head and blow his brains out. Put an end to all the s*** that he's going through. I hate him, for pretending that anything he's ever going to do in a wrestling ring is going to make things right, I hate him for believing it can make up for everything... for anything he's lost in the real world.”

Bishop doesn't have any intention of giving the man opposite him a chance to interject, barely pausing for breath he continues.

“I'm sick of being that man. I'm sick of being a man who watches everything he touches fall apart. I'm sick of being Joe Bishop, I... I want to be someone else. I want to be someone who remembers how to have a proper conversation with another human being. I want to be someone who can tell people they care about, exactly how they feel. I want to be someone who's able to take a step forward without taking two back.”

“I'm tired of pretending that I'm strong. I'm tired of hiding my insecurities because I think that if I don't, I'll lose a f***ing wrestling match that in the grand scheme of things, is f***ing meaningless.”

“I'm tired of being a coward.”

Bishop raises his head, his face now visible to the psychiatrist. His hair matted moving in random directions away from his head. Tears in his eyes and his heart racing at a million miles an hour. He looks like a man who hasn't slept for weeks.

“Go on then. Work your magic. Fix me.” the National Champion says sarcastically, before returning to the state he has been in each of his prior visits, still and silent, ignoring every word uttered by his shrink.


***

I said that Battleground would be about one thing and one thing only. That it wouldn't be about Trace Demon or Xavier Pierce. It wouldn't be about Shawn Malakai or Scarlett Quinn. It wouldn't be about Yukio Blaze, Reverend Shadow or Ace Bennett. I said that Battleground would be about Joe Bishop. I told the whole world that I would prove that I deserve to be recognised, that I deserve the attention that is lavished upon men who simply no longer deserve to be at the top of the ladder.

And you know what?

I wasn't lying.

I proved that I belong at the top of the ladder. That I've earned everything that's handed to the over the hill 'stars' the WFWF keeps recycling. I proved that I am frankly, better than the National Championship. That I'm better than Devilkiller. That I don't belong in a ring with an incompetent pretty-boy like Jayson Garrett.

Yet after all of that... here I am.

Still defending a second rate championship, in a match that apparently is over-shadowed by a cat fight between a little girl who should no longer be the WFWF Champion and a woman who was upstaged by a guy I beat easily just a couple of weeks ago. Still I'm restrained below that glass ceiling.

I know that I'm not going to break through it by beating guys like Jayson Garrett in their second match in a WFWF ring and you know what? I think that's exactly what the WFWF wants.

I'm not just talking about Trace Demon by the way. I'm talking about everyone, the fans, the roster, heck the cafeteria staff don't want me anywhere near the top of this promotion. They don't want me exactly where I should be.

Why?

Because I'm an outcast. Because I'm a loner. Because I'm a recluse. Because I'm not a carbon copy of the last fifty guys to be given a spot at the top of this company. I'm not some steroid fuelled, all-American, comedian who can provide the mainstream look this company wants, I'm not a Hollywood star like Jayson Garrett, nor do I want to be any of those things.

The WFWF fans, staff members, guys like Trace who are more concerned with their bank balance than anything else, they don't want people like me at the top.

I know that if I want to be where I don't 'belong', but where I deserve to be, I need to force it. So at Battleground I set about doing just that, I made a statement. I dumped Scarlett Quinn and Shawn Malakai over the top rope and stood in the middle of that ring, holding the greatest prize in professional wrestling high in the air. The last man standing and boy did it feel good being on top of the world.

Yes I'm back where I was before that night began, but on the horizon is another opportunity and one that I don't intend to let anyone else take advantage of. I'm talking of course about Scars & Stripes. My route to the top of a company that wants me at the bottom. That has told me, by giving me three shots at the National Championship, that I belong there.

After 2013, Scars & Stripes will forever be associated with a scruffy little kid with an English accent and a bad haircut. After 2014, the same will be true of SuperBrawl. You can call me arrogant, cocky, deluded. Whatever you want. I've heard it all before, I heard it before Battleground and look at how that turned out.

The spotlight is going to be shining down, not on Trace Demon, not on Scarlett Quinn, not on an awful actor who thinks that he can get to the top of this promotion because he starred in a handful of dreadful movies. It's going to be shining down on me. And just like at Battleground, people aren't quite going to believe what they're seeing, but they're going to have to pay attention.

I am the National Champion.

I will be the International Champion.

I will win Scars & Stripes.

I will become the World Champion at Superbrawl VIII.

You Jayson, you're just another man who thinks a little too highly of himself. A man who thinks he's the best in the world when in reality he has achieved nothing. I've spent over a year proving that I belong at the top of this promotion and I'm not going to let someone like you stroll in and take anything I've worked for away from me.

But hey, at least you'll have plenty of fans and your celebrity friends to console you when I've finished with you. At least you'll have your career as an actor to fall back on. It's more than Trace Demon's going to have when I take away his International Championship. It's more than Wayne's girl's going to have if she still has that belt when SuperBrawl rolls around.

Heck, it's still more than I'll have when I do everything I've said I'll do.

-Cut-

OOC: I had planned out what I was going to do with Bishop for the next few weeks, but the Battleground results didn't really lead into that particularly well (not that I'm complaining). As such I've had to delay what I planned to do and I've also had a bit of a hectic week in terms of getting exam results and preparing for University, so I've had to at least try to quickly put something together that doesn't mess up what I intend to do later on, whilst still helping to advance what I've been doing for the last five or six shows. Hopefully I'll have worked out exactly how I'm going to do what I want to do with Bishop and when I'm going to do it prior to the next show.