Revolution: White Noise

Have you ever had that noise behind your eyes? The sensation of static between your ears, and draining down into you into your throat. The deafening, sickening sensation, of white noise, but knowing you can’t swallow it down. Reverend Shadow kept this feeling as family, and today was the grand reunion.

-Thump, thump, thump.-

The pounding shook Shadow from his meditation, and brought him back around to reality. His motel room came organized in a rather orderly manner; not his doing. Pounding continued to probe his patience, and the good Reverend made his way to the gate.

He drew open the door to find Lauren…and Trist. It tasted like cranberries to him; smooth at first, but left him with a bitter tongue. “You had to bring him along?” Reverend gestured to Trist behind her.

Laurens eyes widened, “Oh, oh yea, sorry. He begged me.”

“Yea, well, where the hell else was I supposed to go since you didn’t send rent money?” Trist chimed in.


He was right, Shadow hadn’t bothered to send money, and hoped Trist would fall off the face of the planet. So, his dream didn’t come true, and this was a total nightmare, but at least he was wrestling right? No, this was a nail in the coffin, and not even Lauren could change that.

Shadow spiked his words with spite, “What the hell are you both doing here anyways?”

“Well, what is between you and Trist, is the way it is. I, however, just wanted to see you wrestle in person, and wish you good luck.”

Trist put in as well, “And I wanted to see you get your ass whooped.”

Reverend rolled his eyes over the statement, “Fine, come in.”

The two of them plopped down into a couple of chairs while Shadow stood; leaned up against the wall. Lauren hastened to break the cold quiet, “So, big match tonight?”

“No.”

“Oh, I guess I thought I saw you wrestled tonight?”

“I do, it’s just not ‘big’ to me.” Reverend finished his statement and watched Trist roam eagerly over to the fridge. Shadow made a quick about-face, “Stay the hell out of the fridge!”

Trist skittered away like a cockroach unveiled by light, but Shadow minded a third eye as he went back to his conversation with Lauren.

“I am more interested in knowing why you, my neighbor, felt the need to come out this far.” Reverend’s tongue flicked with suspicion, but it was surface level sort. Things like, maybe she thought they were a couple, or maybe she wanted to be with him. Nothing overtly dramatic, but too common of a nuisance for Shadow.

A thick sweat welled up on Laurens brow, and a weird flush appeared. “No, honestly, just to cheer you on.”

“Whatever,” Reverend waved his hand, went over to his bag, and started digging.

Lauren outed his behavior, “Are you upset about something?”

Shadow looked up at her, and shook his head towards Trist, who was now at the kitchen counter smoking a cigarette. Because you know, there is no smoking in there, so why not?

Her eyes looked vaguely at the corner, and then returned to the Reverend, “Well, can I help?”

“No.”

“Damnit Jason, can’t you just give me two seconds, maybe ask how I am doing? Hell, I’d settle for you looking me in the eye without rolling them every three seconds.” The
woman’s scorn scraped across his cheek, and he felt ill.

Shadow stood up, his eyes softened, and he walked over and sat on the mattress. Anyways, he had found what he was looking for. A joint was now pressed between his lips, and he was
striking hard on new lighter.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Trist also noticed, “Oh, we having a party are we? I’m in in in!”

“Jason, where did you get that?”

Reverend let out a hazed cloud, and his voice mellowed, “Wrestler, her name began with a P, I think. I can’t remember, but what I do know is that I am stressed out; mainly because you brought crap for brains.”

“Hey you, I am homeless now because of you!”

Trist’s words were ignored, but Lauren couldn’t ignore the second-hand high that consumed the little room. A fog filled most of the bed area, and seeped slowly into the back.

“What is going on with you?” Lauren had a bit of a buzz, but it didn’t kill her concern for her friend.

“This is me, wrestling is painful. I am not young like you, and this is better than those pain killers the doctor’s offer, and all the different therapies and stuff. That and the stress…” Shadow had started to open up, but as soon as he realized, it faded off into the distance.

“Were you even cleared to wrestle?”

“Yea, well sort of, but yea.”

“What do you mean sort of,” Lauren scolded the Reverend.

“Well, I am cleared, but I am not technically fit to wrestle.”

Lauren looked amazed, but whether it was the honesty, or the situation, no one could tell. She just sat wide-eyed as he continued to huff and puff. “So what if something happens to you?”

“Don’t know; don’t care.”

She couldn’t handle the smoke, nor Shadow’s attitude anymore, and vacated the room. Trist snatched up the jay and sat down next to his roomie. He toked as he talked, “Listen man, I know I am an bunghole, but I am going to be straight with you here.

“This crap with Lauren, well she likes you man, and if I were you-“

“You would mind your own damn business?”

“ you, and no. No, I would treat her with the same amount of respect she gives you.” Trist handed back the joint, and looked the Reverend in the face.

Shadow could see the words bursting out of his roommate’s mouth, but he couldn’t hear it. A dull echo returned as static on the backdrop, and everything quieted inside of him. Just Shadow, and the White Noise.


Later that night…

Reverend sat back stage, his head hung low, and swung to the beat of the headphones stuffed into his mind. The rhythm and beats complimented every bounce of the head, and whispers in his blood carried every lyric. This is where the good Reverend found himself; lost.

He had buried himself deep in deep thought, but something suddenly pulled him from the ecstasy; a wind that blew by, and a faint vibration beneath his toes. When Shadow drew his head from the ground, and the darkness for his eyes, he found Demento as he walked down the hall. A sudden lunge of the hunger nearly throttled him into action, but he held on and kept it together; he needed to do something.

Shadow popped the headphones from his ears and hollered,"Hey, Dave, Demento?!"

The young rookie finishes his drink of water before putting the bottle down on the surrounding table. He flips down the hood of his sweater, and looks at the veteran dumbfounded. Dave before sliding down his new pair of Dre beats. Dave approaches the Hall of Famer cautiously before sliding out a chair beside the former WFWF World Champion.

Demento slides into the chair; with a cheeky smile on his face,"Reverend Shadow? I didn't think you hung out here."

"Eh, I go where I won’t be disturbed. I am not the biggest fan of people like some of the others."

His words were harsh, but his tone coursed with sincerity. Reverend didn’t know Demento, and except for having a match with him, he had barely heard his name. Then again, Shadow wasn’t one to go out of his way to know others.

"So, I hate being so forward, but...you ready for tonight?" Shadow’s tone was again sincere, but a beast lingered in the back of his mind.

Demento cockily smiles at the question before leaning back in his chair. Thoughts rushing through his mind as he makes a decision on what to say. He sips on his water once again; trying to avoid the situation, but later comes to a conclusion.

"I've been ready to make my mark on this company"Dave immediately realizes that he flubbed on what he was going to say. Dave's eyes go from cocky to scared as he realizes that he might have said the wrong answer to the Hall of Famer.

The good Reverend belted out a laugh, "Good answer, us old farts don't have the same drives we use to. Once you make a name, you sometimes lose some of the glamour, the idea of being great."

Shadow spoke from the heart to the rookie, and hadn’t lied. The drives are not the same to those who have attained forever. His drives now were darker, deeper, and more consistent with a froth faced animal than a man of any cloth. But Demento, he was fresh, new, and; and interesting.

"I don’t see a point in pretending that once we step in the ring tonight, you won’t see me like you do now. But you have something, something in your bones, am I write? That something, that void that aches?"Shadow opened up to the rookie, but he couldn’t begin to explain why.

Dave smiles from the compliment of the veteran. He shakes his head "yes" before he starts rubbing his arms. He rubs the tattoos on his right arm before looking deep into Reverend's eyes.

"Pain. I don't feel it. I've sat in a small old chair in uptown Toronto for hours upon hours. It doesn't hurt. That's what makes this match interesting Shadow. I want you to bring your best... But I request that you hurt me. Humble me." Dave lets out a small laugh followed by a grin. His eyes never left the veteran's. Tension quickly filled the room as Demento talked a big game.

Shadow just nodded, and gazed back. He didn’t need words to talk about how he felt, and he didn't need rookie to ask him for pain. No, the request was nice, but not needed. What it did do was awake the slumber in the good Reverend. The desire, the need, the hunger.

Shadow swallowed it all down, "I wouldnt be so eager, but I respect it. I remember when I was humbled, put on a cross by Kyzer. Bloodied, bruised, and beaten. He top my head with thorns and my mind with agony. I still have scars, of both varieties." A chill caressed Shadow's nerves, and chills lit his arms. His eyes remained on, and in, Demento, but his mind was still strung up high for the whole world to see.

Dave looks deep into Shadow’s scarred soul before coming back to his own. Chills going up his spine as his eyes focus away from the veteran. Dave picks up his water bottle, takes a chug, all while trying to erase the visions inside his head. The visions of the brutal Reverend Shadow and Michael Kyzer matches. He unzips his sweater a bit, as cold sweat comes down off his neck.

"Does that still affect you? In all my years in Japan. I have never, ever, seen somebody crucified in that ring. Does this anger you?" Dave asked the hard question, all while stuttering some of his words. The images in his head scare him as he will soon be fighting the disturbed hall of famer.

Shadow just smiled at the young star, and noticed Demento slowly fade into his world. He hadn’t seen someone take it in like that. No, not like this rookie."Anger, no my boy, not anger, but it gives me insight. Into what most man can take in, and into what I can take. I dont have regrets, but I do have a solid understanding that I won’t be put to task like that again without raising my arm in victory."

Then the slow ebb of the void started to consume, swallowing up the humble, the kindness, the old dog had a new trick. Reverends pupils dilated, and within them was the hunger; only curtailed by the knowledge that later it would have its dish placed in front of it.

His smile slithered into a grin, and one could have sworn the Grinch had stolen his heart. Reverend's toned now layered with a hiss, "I hope that you're prepared." The phrase ended short but to finish might have let free what little grip he had.

Demento gets a small chill down his back. A little scared of the future match, Dave looks at the scars on top of the Reverend's battered head. Dave observes the scars and imagines the war that awaits him later that night in chilly Hamilton.

"There you are Dave. I've been looking for you everywhere."

A small faint voice interrupts the discussion between the veteran and the young gun. Angelica, the red haired girlfriend of "The Charismatic One", disturbs the respectful silence between the two men. Dave gets up from his seat to greet his girlfriend with a gentle hug.

"Shadow, this is my girlfriend Angelica. Angel this is Reverend Shadow. We were having a little conversation of our match tonight." Dave takes her hand and starts rubbing it. Angelica stares down the veteran with a worried frown covering her face.

"Mr. Shadow. May I please ask you not to hurt to my Dav..." And with that the tattooed female is cut off by the hall of famer.

The good Reverend eased off his demeanor, into a comfortable smile for the lady. His eyes weren’t meant for her, but she had come in contact no less, "Dear lady, why of course you can ask such a thing." Then a long pause fell over all three of them, and Shadow's eyes turn to fire, “I just can’t make promises I know I can’t keep." Each flame died out and the old man picked himself up, and without another word turned and walked away.