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Prologue
Something You Should Know

Sports Talk New York
New York, New York
8/21/14

"One year sober, Josh."

"I know. I'm proud of you."

"Do you ever miss it?" He asks, turning to the control panel to mix our interview. "Living fast like that?"

"We had some cool experiences, but no." I reply before taking a large swig. "I was a pretty miserable sh*t during that time. Checking you into rehab is probably the best thing I did for anyone."

"Why?"

"Because it made me think about why we were doing the things we were doing."

I pause.

"I really though we could do it-you know, change the game. Myself, Marcell, and Bubba." I continue, sitting my beer on the table beside me. "Then it all went south when I got hurt." 

"Then you spiraled..." 

"Yeah, taking everyone around me with me in the process."

"Maybe our interpretations of what happened during that time are different." Jack says, going through a stack of CD's at his desk. "The right people weren't there."

"I'm beginning to think there isn't such a thing as the right people."

"You were in pretty deep, and the kind of company we kept was part of it."

"Yeah, and it's funny how quickly it all disappeared the second I announced my retirement."

"To them, it meant the party was over." He asserts as I take a drink from my beer. "Entourages don't last without a meal ticket."

"Why'd you stick around then?"

He sighs before quietly uttering, "I didn't want you to be alone."

"Get real..."

"I'm am," Jack stops his shuffling before looking up at me and continuing, "You said to me once that wrestling was your identity, and you lost it because of your neck. Now you may have suppressed that time because your life's better, but I still remember."

There should always be a caveat when reuniting with a face from your past, and that's their expectation of who you've become or vice versa. To that point, it had been two years since I beat rock bottom and got him the assistance he required while unknowingly helping myself. I tried to keep contact with him because during a dark time in my life, Jack was one of the few people that didn't come to me with hands out. I would be merely assuming if I said it was in the center's protocol to limit outside contact, but we grew apart nevertheless. Nikki was the one to remind me that our paths were diverging and that we had trials to face alone.

Deep down, I knew she was right.

"Josh, he hasn't called you in a month." Nikki says, tying her belt around her gi. "You really oughta let it go."

"Why is it such a big deal that I'm concerned?"

"It's not, but you should know that the stories you've told me about Jack don't exactly make him a person I want Drake around."

"I understand, but..."

"Why is he in rehab right now?"

"Drug overdose..."

"You say that like there were no implications on you."

"He's alive, ain't he?"

"Thankfully." She says, audibly exhaling while moving slowly into a lunging backfist. "Heroin is responsible for most of the drug related deaths in the United States."

"To be fair, I didn't know he was doing it."

"Then how can you say he's your friend?"

"Do you really need an explanation?"

"You know that one of the things I teach children are social skills, right?"

"Yeah," I reply as Nikki releases a loud kiya following a punching combination. "Though I'm not sure how this relates to my friendships."

"I just don't see what benefit Jack was to you."

I stand taken aback and all I could do is stare at her while she practices. I'm still trying to learn Tae Kwon Do despite it not being as practical for me as the hours spent on several Jiu-jitsu mats. Worlds are on the horizon for Nikki and her focus has been solely on winning, she's certainly skilled enough. It's a big step in our relationship to travel together. We're still in the infancy stages, and what we've discovered so far is unbridled passion. Sadly the two of us are set in our own distinct philosophies and have struggled mightily for common ground, which for me means seeking a different high than what I became accustomed to.

I don't know if she realizes just how big of a mess my life is at the moment, but I don't expect a whole lot of sympathy when I think about the schedule she keeps. I'm impressed with the speed, precision, and fluidity of her movements, even if her words distract me from acknowledging the kata's beauty. Nikki's dedication to a craft I don't fully comprehend is disheartening however, because I don't have that physical outlet anymore. While I enjoy helping others my firm it's merely a consolation prize, the Plan B I wasn't ready to explore yet.

"He kept me from doing something stupid."

"And that somehow justifies bringing someone around that I don't approve of?"

"I feel like I owe him..."

"Just stop, because you're looking at this the wrong way." Nikki retorts, easing into the same stance she started with before continuing, "If anything Jack should feel obligated because you saved his life."

"And you think his payment should be going away?"

"Yes."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to disagree." I mutter, nervously pacing the mat's edge. "I know I wouldn't ask you to drop your friends."

"Is that friendship worth risking something good over?"

I took a walk a few minutes later, and I used that time to reflect on the demands Nikki made. I'll never forget the look on her face; it wasn't anger, it wasn't defensive, it was one of sadness and concern. When I first met Nikki, she told me of her upbringing and residual trust issues stemming from bad choices with people. While I feel she had an unwarranted prejudice against Jack, her insistence forced me to scrutinize the depths of that camaraderie. While it is true that I only knew Jack for roughly two years prior to meeting Nikki, his sobriety showed flashes of a strong moral code. Even if he couldn't save himself, he managed to emancipate me from my self destructive state of mind.

Jack looks at me with an expectant glance, and I know he's hoping for gratitude. I give a slight nod, only because we're still able to communicate without words. He knows.

"I can't believe you went back."

"I've still got something to prove."

"Like?"

"That I can do things the right way." I say, polishing off my beer as Jack goes back to shuffling. "This may be the last chance to give my legacy a needed face-lift."

"What if you regress, Josh?" He asks, switching out CD blanks before making the poignant observation, "You've never handled setback very well."

"Just more incentive to win."

"And if you don't...

"Well, it's not all about me anymore."

He looks at me before saying in a matter of fact tone, "Old habits die hard."

"In most cases I'd agree with you." I reply, leaning back in my chair. "But I have to try."

****

I've never been a guy that takes more than what he's earned. It's self serving and quite frankly pointless to act like a fascist, especially when I've been blessed significantly over my career. I live pretty frugally despite accumulating a pretty sizable income and an ever growing empire as a nest egg, so I've never wanted for anything in my adult life. The mere fact that I'm here wrestling is a testament to my good fortune, with each bit of turbulence I've faced traversing this path making me a better man. I know this because I show more appreciation to the subtleties, such as a safe trip to my next destination for example. Memories that often go unnoticed are priceless when that's all you have left. Upon reflection I've been able to see life much clearer than I could've imagined, and consequently I've come up with one simple truth as a result.

Some people just don't realize how good they have it, and it's their own fault for the impeding walls.

Yeah world titles and awards are great achievements, but they're fleeting and wrestlers tend to forget that. There's a short window of time to live this dream, and it's not to be taken for granted. See I realized not too long ago that I have a unique perspective of seeing both sides of the coin, not only as a competitor but also as a man who was able to step away. I distanced myself from this business and saw it for what it is, something five years ago I wasn't able to do. I was too busy being guarded then, shutting out everyone that stood in the way of my legacy and what I believed was my destiny. Even though I hoarded what spotlight I gained, all I really wanted was to enjoy it. I thought if I could just outlast wrestling's nature before the rug got pulled out from under me, I could finally be satisfied with one part of my life.

Then I broke my neck, forcing me to comes to terms with the fact I'm not bulletproof. The most bitter pill I've ever swallowed.

But I digress because those years of disconnect allowed me to see the extent people will endure to protect themselves from being vulnerable. This, the tough guy's world, is the type of career where logic dictates a steely resolve as something to be sought after. Call it a prerequisite, because we keep our lives outside these ropes seperated since it can be used against us. I don't have that luxury anymore, not since Nikki got into the business. So instead of trying to fight what could be construed as a weakness, I found strength in it by being the voice of experience for her career and resurrecting my own in the process. When the shove felt worldwide came, it reminded me nothing is sacred in an industry where mental warfare is just as prominent as physical.

But I'm still here despite all of the sh*t thrown my way, because I'd be remiss to abandon those who have come to depend on me. Kids like Trevor Wolf and Shapiro, rivals turned allies like Samael Ahriman, friends like Cameron Stone, Penny Shannon, David James, and the late Shawn Malakai rely on me to set an example of perseverance. I can't beat nature, because we lose all throughout our lives. What I can do, however, is ride that wave of inevitably into Boston and give the gift of clarity to a man in desperate need of it.

You know who you are.

You know what you've done.

And you know you've f*cked up.

Josh Dean Presents
The Veil
(AKA A Tale in Black and White)

Part 1: Code of Honor
Championship Connections
Atlanta, Georgia
2/16/2016

"You really are a workaholic, you know that?"

"It's damage control." I say while scrolling on my laptop. "The clients feel we're going a different path than advertised."

"That can't be all your fault."

"It's my name on the billboards."

"Even though David is the one running day to day operations?"

"Someone has to take responsibility."

"So how many?"

"Four, but that's more than what I'm comfortable with." I reply while composing an email as Dr. Remke takes a cigarette out of his pack. "I really do need to come in more often, just to keep a check on things."

He lights up the cigarette before asserting, "I know you haven't asked me to, but I've been trying to lighten David's workload."

"I know, and I thank you." I reply, looking up from the screen. "It's part of the reason I hired you. Just do me a favor and don't take on too much."

"I could say the same thing to you."

His comment makes me chuckle as I slide my laptop off to the side, "Probably, but I'll rest when I'm dead."

"You're not going to live very long at this rate."

"Not the first time I've heard that."

"Hey speaking of longevity, I got you something," he says, placing a box on my desk before reminding me, "Since today is your birthday after all."

Ah yes the infamous thirty, also known as a nice little reminder that my decisions carry permanent implications on my body. Whoever said that thirty was the new twenty must've conveniently omitted professional wrestlers, because I don't remember hurting nearly as bad a decade ago. Yet it's surreal to fathom competing at an arguably higher level now than when I was in 'pristine' condition. I attribute that to immersing myself in avenues aside from wrestling and only stressing about things that directly effect me.

"Hmm, must've lost track of time."

"Well... open it."

I shake my head before unwrapping his gift and asking, "Meditation?"

"Yeah," Dr. Remke announces proudly, taking a drag from his cigarette. "It'll change the way you think."

"Is there something wrong with it?"

"No, but there is still unrest in your mind." He declares, flicking the ashes in the ashtray. "Take what you're doing now. It's just masking your true thoughts."

"I still don't see how this relates though..."

"I know," He interrupts, taking a drag before continuing, "Listen, the practice has been used for hundreds of years by everyone from performers to soldiers as a means of bringing mind and body together."

He pauses as I study over the book before asking, "When's the last time your mind, body, and spirit all worked as one?"

"A long time, Tim." I finally stammer. "Almost a lifetime ago."

"Just think of how much better you'd operate if you got them realigned."

"What if I can't?"

"Well, things like Vegas happen."

"No, I think you misunderstood me."

"Then explain it."

Show Time is still fresh, with the details becoming less hazy as each day passes. Wrestling itself presents several peaks and valleys, but that night in Vegas was unique because the elements of a seemingly perfect narrative came together simultaneously. The triumph and tragedy that one in my position will often face flipped on its ear, and the kicker was my ignorance toward the whole thing as it happened. I could blame it on the concussion I likely suffered from the match, and maybe it was a factor. Champions don't make excuses though, and I'm not about to start a new trend.

"When I wrestle, I'm trained to act on instinct." I begin, shutting my computer down before exhaling. "And due of that nature, it often times means hurting people to win."

"Isn't that the objective?"

"Yeah, but it's a matter of taking it too far." I continue, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge. "I originally came to you because I've always struggled with that."

"The thing is, not everything can be so cut and dry."

"Right, that's easy for you to say."

"I understand that you're the one who gets in the ring and makes those judgement calls." He asserts, flicking and ash into the tray. "But don't forget, I've worked with many athletes who've had the same dilemma."

"At least they're willing to shake hands after the game."

I take a drink of my water bottle while he puts out his cigarette. Dr. Remke strokes the stubble on his chin before calmly retorting, "Not always."
****

WFWF Nowhere to Run
New York, New York
3/14/16

"I step out for a bit of coffee, and I come back to find this." Lila says as she opens her office door before asking, "What the hell, Josh?"

"You know, you should really get maintenance to change the locks on your door." I quip, crossing my feet on top of her desk. "The damn thing is a key lock."

"I'll take that under advisement." She retorts. "I suppose there's something you need from me."

"Nah, I think we're good." I say, leaning forward to shake an empty bottle. "Although you may be out of scotch."

"At least you didn't break into my private stash."

"Well, I won't turn down another drink since you're offering."

Lila begins to walk toward her desk before claiming, "I think we need to come to an understanding."

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing."

"Then let's talk." She says, walking behind the desk and unlocking a magnificent private collection of assorted liquors. "Right now, I could use some logical thinking."

"You'd probably have a different thought if you saw me thirty minutes ago."

"I did watch the main event and I was barely able to get through it without vomiting." She admits, sitting down on the sofa adjacent from me. "This is getting ridiculous."

"So are you willing to play ball now?"

"Excuse me?"

"C'mon," I assert, taking my feet off her desk. "Don't sit there and act like Drakz hasn't played you for a fool these past two years."

"He has," Lila concedes, pouring herself a drink. "But I can not allow my personal animosity to rule my decision making."

"You don't have to, that's what I'm here for."

"Josh no..."

"Well I don't see any other way, Lila."

"There has to be."

"These guys play by a different set of rules," I reply, standing up from Lila's desk. "I know their game and how to stop it."

"Ok I'm intrigued," She says, pouring a second glass of Scotch before asking, "How?"

"I can't have you putting sanctions on me."

"For..."

"Anything," I say as I sit down across from her. "The same goes for anyone fighting alongside me."

"So basically let the roster be divided?"

"I didn't say it was going to be easy," I affirm while reaching for the glass. "And several people's principles are going to be tested."

"Right," she scoffs before taking a drink. "We haven't been known to hire the most savory characters."

"All the more reason to see what people choose."

What Lila wants to present on TV and the turmoil present in WFWF's locker room truly are too abundant to be ignored. I call it her blatant denial of the company's infastructure being set ablaze and with that comes an immediate decision. Before, people were hanging back, seeing which side would emerge ahead. Unfortunately my call to arms has forced the generally passive aggressive to make a selection, potentially putting their careers behind the proverbial eight ball. And with newer prospects entering into the fray, that doesn't make me a very liked person with a vast majority of them because of how a narrative can be manipulated. I guess they don't realize my assertiveness has been met with appreciation on Lila's behalf, and that carries a certain amount of weight. It's the only reason she's even willing to negotiate with my demamds.

"Are you sure this is the right time to be having this conversation?"

"Probably not."

"You don't seem bothered by it."

"I don't see any other time working either." I announce, placing my hands together. "People are going to report anything they suspect back to him anyway."

She exhales and takes a drink, "Look Josh, I can't show favortism..."

"And why not?" I interrupt. "Seems like no one really plays by that rule."

"I'm also not Trace Demon," Lila announces defiantly. "I'd like to think I carry myself with a shred of professional decorum."

"So, how's that paying off?"

Samael's distinct vocals alert me of his presence. I don't even need to peer over my shoulder to know he's pissed because there's a certain gruff resonance that's a dead giveaway. There's still a tension between us, but I should expect nothing less from him considering the time we've spent at each other's throats. He probably believes I hung him out to dry, and I'm not in the mood for explanations. At least he's using sarcasm rather than physical coming after me, which may be a change in him somewhere as a byproduct of his match with Cam. It makes me wonder if he's been humbled by that experience. Our most recent encounters don't have the same edge as before, in fact they've been strangely cordial. Tonight Sam was presented with a great opportunity and as a guy who is just as goal oriented, I did all I could do in rooting for him. But perhaps he expected more.

"I thought you said you'd be out there if things got bad."

"Look Sam..."

"Unless you've got a damn good reason for trying to f*ck me over, you're better off not talking."

Lila leans forward and quickly stops Sam's tirade. "Now you know my reaction when I unlocked my office door to find him sitting in here."

"I should've known better." I say before taking a drink of my glass. "Maybe I could've saved myself this embarrassing situation."

Sam smirks before asking, "What is it with you rednecks and being so damn guillible?"

"Well, I suppose I should just give you the cold shoulder if that's how you're going to talk to one of your few allies."

"And maybe you should thank the guy who handed you the World Title on a silver platter."

I turn to face him, standing up from my seat and asserting, "I didn't need your help to beat Drakz and you know it..."

"Will you two shut up already!" Lila shot out with venom in her voice. "You two sound like a couple of petulant children fighting over who has the nicer pair of shoes. God, I knew this was a bad idea."

"We're just establishing some guidelines."

Sam nods in agreement before saying, "So they locked you in here to keep you away from the ring."

"Pretty much."

"Well played, even if it is a b*tch move."

"This might just work in our favor though," I say, motioning toward Lila before continuing, "I've been discussing what we'll need from her moving forward."

"I didn't say I fully agreed," Lila interjects. "But what you two have planned can't be any worse than what's already happened."

"Have you met me?" Sam asks, pointing to his sheath. "I was with Donnie Monty Kent's sawed off ass for over a year. You'd think I would've picked up something in that time."

"There's no reason to make her even more uncomfortable, Sam."

"Could you shut the door please?" Lila requests while motioning Sam inside. "Finding trustworthy people is becoming harder."

*****

"Why Samael Ahriman?"

"Common enemy," I quickly shot out in a near autopilot response. "So why not?"

"And that's it?"

"Is there supposed to be something else?" I say, watching as Dr. Remke snipes another cigarette out in the ashtray. "It just seems counterproductive not to combine our resources."

"You're both chasing the same prize though." He observes, pulling another cigarette from his pack before inquiring, "Isn't there at least some hope on your end that he doesn't succeed?"

"Everyone here is chasing the same thing." I retort before taking a long drink. "Besides, he didn't cost me my title."

"But does that mean you trust him?"

"Enough to be assured that he won't stab me in the back to further his career, no."

"But..."

"I trust that his priorities are in order."

"So it's just business."

I smirk, slowly taking a drink of my water bottle before saying, "When the deal's ran it's course, there'll be no hard feelings."

"And it has nothing to do with the title."

He's prodding me for information, and to be honest I've intentionally put that pursuit on the back burner. While I am guaranteed a rematch due to my win at Showtime, Sam has went through a whole lot of pretty despicable actions to get this crack at Drakz. It's subject to opinion, but Sam really is perfect ally for the situation we find ourselves in. A fresh perspective in this long and increasingly arduous fight. For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to rise through WFWF's glass ceiling the right way. These last couple of months have shown that maybe the path I want to take isn't possible, and aligning with him temporarily will keep my conscience clean of more blood than necessary. I thought after their match at The Clash last year that it would be a cold day in hell before Drakz aligned with Trace. Then again, I didn't expect to remain Tag Champions with him either, so I suppose I've been proven wrong before. With that logic, I can't think of a reason Sam and I couldn't benefit from each other.

"Nope."

"What if I thought you were lying."

"Have I given you the wrong impression?"

"I know what you've went through to win that title, only to have it ripped away without being able to enjoy it."

"Or really remember it."

"Everyone knows that hurt, Josh." He says, taking a drag from his cigarette before asking, "So why the hell are you pretending it didn't?"

I exhale, taking a moment to collect my thoughts before conceding, "Something didn't seem right about it all."

"The win?"

"No, the whole experience." I say, reaching into the mini fridge and retrieving a beer. "A lot of things seemed off, and I guess I just pictured it feeling different."

"How did you envision it?"

"There's something about reaching the pinnacle of this industry that gets romanticized." I begin, taking a sip from my beer. "It's as if it was supposed to be glorious and tear inducing because of the trials leading up to Vegas."

"And you didn't feel any of that."

"That's just it, all I have to go on are the tapes." I continue, taking another drink. "But I didn't like what I saw."

"Was it something in your demeanor?"

"It was more along the lines of boastful pride."

I know I should be proud of accomplishing what very few have done, but the scowl on my face felt very out of character in hindsight. It was twelve years since I won a World Championship of any kind, and that type of oddessy is humbling when the expectation is infinite promise. I believe in that altered state of mind I forgot all about the journey that took me worldwide and what an insufferable grind it was at times, especially when I think that I may have slighted loved ones in the process. My visage was the culmination of my theory, as I resembled a man that felt entitled to his newly minted spoils and not a man that just one year prior was the last person you'd expect to be in this position. This sport brings out the worst in people due to egos running rampant, and it sickens me to realize that I could be just as arrogant as the ones I've fought against.

"There's just no balance." I say before discarding the empty beer bottle. "I'm either trying to maim someone that doesn't deserve it, or I'm squeaking by dangerous opponents because I won't pull the trigger. Look I know what direction I'm heading after this and what it's going to take."

"Why do you think I want you to read that book?"

"Books won't help if I can't bring myself back..."

"See, you and I will just have to disagree." He retorts, blowing a large cloud of smoke from his lips. "Every person has good and bad inside of them, but it's where people feel most natural is where they live up to their potential. The greats all have an edge that doesn't always generate positive reactions."

"Bravado isn't really my style Tim," I declare while stroking my chin. "Which is why I'm convinced my body was possesed."

He coughs while attempting to hold back his laughs, before quipping, "Ok, now I know you've got brain damage."

"I tried to tell you..."

"No," he interrupts. "I mean you must really not understand your worth if you think confidence makes you evil."

I nod, taking his comments into consideration before asking, "Do you believe in omens?"

"Omens?" Dr. Remke repeats out of clarity. "No, why?"

"I'm just reminded of a conversation I had not too long ago."

*****
Part 2: Bad Intentions

Dead Bodies are Buried Under the Sakura
Tokyo, Japan
8/20/2015

"Number one contender!" Scarlett shot out, throwing herself into my arms as I walk through the curtain. "It's got a nice ring to it."

"Thanks," I say before collapsing into a nearby chair. "Where's Nikki?"

"She took the shuttle back to the hotel." Scarlett says while slapping me on the arm. "Relax, this has turned out to be a great night."

"True," Penny added before throwing me a towel. "I've never seen a performance quite like that."

"Thank ya very much." I quip, feigning a bowing motion. "But right now I want to sleep."

"And miss all that Tokyo has to offer?"

"Now you're embellishing."

"You've only visited Tokyo to work, but I've been living here for close to two years." Scarlett announces proudly. "I know a quaint little Hibachi down the street with Sake that's strong enough to knock you on your ass."

"I still can't believe you're old enough to drink." I retort, giving her a playful jab. "Why do you have to make me feel so damn old, Q?"

"Aww, do you need your cane and walker?"

"How about some prune juice?" Penny adds, breaking open her bag of Kush.

"Don't forget who introduced you to Sake." I say, looking at Scarlett with a smirk. "I seem to remember puke everywhere."

So for those keeping score, I've known Scarlett Quinn for about ten years. I started calling her Q because of the way she wrote it while signing her name during those 'autograph signings' she did as a kid, tagging along with her parents from town to town. Wayne and Vanessa played a big role in my development as a young man and I got close to Scarlett as a result, well... as close as working for another company would allow. It's really good to see her growing into a level headed young woman despite the efforts that eventually drove her away from WFWF. The day she told me she wanted to wrestle, I'll admit I was torn by her revelation. I, like so many others close to her, hoped that she would choose another path. But that doubt quickly dissipated the moment she first locked up with me in her father's gym. It was pretty clear she was destined for something great, and I find myself in that similar position of unlikely contender now.

Scarlett nods at Penny and Penny leaves the bag in my lap before walking out. Scarlett, straight to the point as ever, asks, "Something on your mind, Josh?"

"I think I'm making it pretty obvious."

"Yeah, and I'm not sure what it is either." She says, subtlely grabbing the bag from my lap. "So spill it."

"How'd your parents do it?" I ask, running my fingers through my hair. "You know, being high level competitors and still managing to keep their marriage strong?"

"Lots of sex, I guess." She says with a giggle.

"C'mon Q..."

"I know what you mean, I'm just trying to break you out of this funk." Scarlett says, opening up a Philly and clearing the contents. "You should be elated to finally have another crack at the belt."

"Yeah, and Trace nearly f*cked that up."

"He's good for that, but you didn't let it stop you."

"Listen, I've been at this for a long time." I say while leaning my head forward. "I just don't know how many chances I'll have left."

"I never told you what really made me want to become a wrestler, have I?"

"No."

She sighs before saying, "Your World Title match with Schneider..."

"But I lost that match..."

"You also fought without a care in the world." She interrupts while rolling the Philly. "You saw what he did to my father and you didn't back down."

She pauses, licking the folds together.

"That's not the way I showed you."

"I like it this way." Scarlett asserts, folding it over before continuing, "Look, you gave me a lot of great advice when I got started, but I think I'm qualified to give you some advice now."

"Is that right?"

"In case you haven't noticed Josh, I've grown up significantly in the past four years."

"You know your momma is very proud of you..."

"Yeah, Daddy is too." She says as she neatly stores the blunt away in its original package. "But that's not the point."

"So, what is it then?"

"People are excited for WFWF again, and it's because of you." She begins, gathering her belongings to place in a duffel. "Do you realize that seventy thousand packed this place to see you because it was your return to Japan?"

"I saw the crowd, and it was pretty cool."

"Right, but people haven't been this invested in WFWF since I won the title because it's been the same people rotating in and out of the main event."

She pauses, looking at me for the first time since we sat down before continuing, "You're the change fans have been looking for."

"They do realize that I'm not exactly new."

"No, but it's like a fresh breath of air," She drops her head before saying, "And trust me, I know how good that feels."

"Why does it smell like sh*t?"

She jabs me playfully in the arm before bellowing, "Shut up!"

"I'm just saying," I say with a small chuckle. "The World Title carries a stench right now. Matches with stupid stipulations and even more asinine happenings, completely undoing everything you did in your reign."

"Well, now you have the opportunity to correct that." She says while I stroke my beard. "Hell, you might be the last chance."

It's among the chief reasons I came out of retirement, to give back to the wrestling community. I watched WFWF the entire time was away, and the blatant collusion turned my stomach. I saw great wrestlers evicted through by some faceless puppet with Trace's hand up their ass, and Scarlett was among his biggest casualties. If my being the new torch bearer brings about the change this company needs, so be it.

"They always say the champion makes the belt, not the other way around."

"What you need to remember Josh is don't let the belt consume you." She says before kissing my cheek. "I let it, and I regret it."

"Easier said than done."

"That's the hard part when you're the hunted."
****

Hope Wrestling Academy
Oddessa, Texas
2/13/16

"Bro, have I got to talk to you."

"Yeah?"

"You got a minute?"

"Sure," Shapiro says while toweling himself off. "You've travelled a long way to get here, so it must be important."

"It is, but I also wanted to check and see how you were doing." I reply, tossing him a water bottle. "Hell I haven't seen you since Japan."

"I didn't know you even had my number." He says, taking a swig before asking, "How'd you get it anyway?"

"I may have come across it in a less than legal way."

Shapiro engages himself in a hearty belly laugh. I'm not finding it very amusing due to the sobering nature of my visit.

"I'm not joking," I assert, taking a water bottle from the desk side cooler upon his offering gesture. "The office is keeping everything on lockdown now."

"I guess it's a good thing I've been back here running the gym while Sean recovers."

"Probably, just be aware of what's happening for when you can start take bookings again."

"Which should be pretty soon..."

"Good," I interject. "That's the other reason I flew down."

"Well I fly under the radar, but should I be worried?"

"To be honest, that's only gonna get you so far." I begin, letting out a loud sigh as I run my fingers through my hair. "The company is going into the ground, and I'm the one trying to stop it because of my love for this brand and what it's stood for."

His eyebrows furrow and he beckons me as I continue, "Unfortunately, no one's going to be able to hide in plain sight anymore because this directly effects all of us."

"What can I do to help?"

"The better question is, what are you willing to do?"

Following Shapiro back to his office, I get a sense that he's grateful for the platform WFWF has given him. His cozy gym is littered with dozens of local prospects who hold him highest regard, a far cry from the days when one would walk in and be treated as another guy no matter their reputation elsewhere. That global exposure isn't lost on either of us. Shapiro has earned their respect by conducting himself professionally and by virtue of his gritty performances.

"There are some good guys here busting their asses to make it," He says, carefully observes a kid no older than sixteen throwing savage kicks on a heavy bag before looking at me, "I don't want to scare them off."

"They look to you for guidance..."

"Yeah, because I'm the one that made good."

"And you're not used to being in a mentoring role."

"Something like that."

"That's what I like about you, the humility." I announced as we both take a seat. "Listen, you wouldn't be here if you didn't belong."

"I know that someone saw something in me when I got signed, but..."

"But what?"

"Why such a sudden interest in me?" He asks, sitting his bottle on the desk. "I'm not the most imposing guy out there."

"No you're not," I say as Shapiro drops his head. "But you've got heart, and that can't be taught."

"You know you're not the only one saying that."

"Every wrestler has a calling card, just like everyone has a story."

I've had a vested interest in Shapiro since the day he debuted against Nikki. Raw, passionate, and promising, I knew immediately he could succeed in this field of landmines known as professional wrestling. It was something in his eyes that told me the story of a man who really had nothing to lose. I could relate to him because my whole life has also been defined by exceeding expectations. That mentality makes a man willing to take chances because hell, failure is better than doing nothing and wondering what if. I know he won't give up and that fortitude is inspiring, serving as a chief reminder of why I've chosen him to stand on the front line in an ongoing battle.

"Do you ever stop for a moment and just listen?"

"I'd like to."

"Try it sometime." I advise, lifting my bottle. "You'll find that you speak to a lot of people."

I pause, observing his uncomfortable body language before continuing, "Listen, this isn't one sided. I plan on doing right by you."

"Why?"

"You didn't go easy on Nikki because she's a woman." I say, with a smile on my face. "Kinda validates the training I gave her."

"How is she?"

"I couldn't begin to tell you."

"Sorry man."

"There's one thing to always remember in this business, Shapiro." I declare, looking him in the eyes. "Never apologize."
*****

2015 WFWF Awards Show
Los Angeles, California
4/18/2016

"Have you thought about what you're going to say?"

"Nah."

"Well you better think of something." Penny advises as she lights up a joint. "You're a shoe in for at least three of them."

"I've never been much for planning speeches." I say, leaning up against the wall. "I just kinda go out there and say what's on my mind."

"Sure, if you want to call it that."

I take the joint before asking, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's pretty straight forward," Penny says before joining me on the wall. "How you talk to people individually is a complete 180 from how you address the public."

"They pay to see people fight, so I just expedite the process."

"Is that all?"

No, but it's better than the alternative. People say some pretty dumb things for the sake of trying to sound profound, consequently looking like a fool when their plan goes awry. I guess I have a different philosophy on the subject, choosing to settle my problems in a simpler way. I suppose that doesn't make me a very good choice for a diplomat, but you can't accuse me of being fake. I'd say that's why we're out here getting high before the awards show, because Penny shares my disdain for these events. Last year's show confirmed that.
Penny passes the blunt to me, and I can't help but notice her rapidly blinking her eyes.

"You good?" I ask before taking a hit.

"Yeah, I just feels like I have something stuck in my eye."

"Like what?"

"I can't explain it," she says before insisting, "Probably nothing."

"I told you that your eye needs to breathe." I say, handing the blunt back to her. "There's no point in keeping that patch on all the time."

"I know, but I feel more comfortable with it."

"But you need to use the eye to build your vision back up."

"And I do," she asserts, flicking and ash on the ground before adding, "It feels weird."

"Weird?"

"Yeah, like I'm still really sensitive to sunlight," she begins, passing the blunt back to me before saying, "And I go through stretches where everything's real hazy."

"How long?"

"Since I was cleared."

"Damnit Penny!" I blurt out, clearing my throat from a cough. "You could go blind."

"Well that'll make two of us."

"You're crazy." I say as my face shifts to a puzzled look.

"And you can't sit there and tell me that it isn't clear where your heart is."

I pause, taking a quick hit before handing the blunt back to Penny and asking, "Are we talking about the same thing? Because I was talking about how this feels like a set up."

"Wow," Penny says, exasperated. "You mean to tell me that you don't realize you're f*cking with two women's hearts?"

"It's not that simple..."

"Bullsh*t!" Penny exclaims, shifting the blunt back to her right hand. "You're smart enough to know that Nikki and Raven would give up everything for you."

"You really oughta do your research Penny, because that's not how it happened?"

"Oh so Nikki didn't leave because she's sick and she wanted you to focus on winning the title?"

"Well..."

"Or how about Raven spending the last four years beating herself up with regret." Penny hisses. "Do you think I like having to hide the truth from them?"

"I never said to do that."

"You don't have to when the awkward silence says enough."

The last thing I want is for my closest friendships to be severed, but I believe Penny is out of perspective. It's not her comments lack merit, but I've been isolating myself from everyone. The match with Trace has been dominating the majority of my thoughts, especially when Lila announced us for a cage match. It seems to be a habit I've developed ahead of dangerous matches, especially when the stakes are astronomical like this one. The state of WFWF is in as much trouble as it has ever been with he and Drakz in charge. Penny understands this was part of what could happen when SOS formed, and as one of the remaining charter members of our original incarnation I need her to keep the faith in that mission.

"They both mean the world to me in different ways." I finally utter as Penny looks at me expectantly. "Each is important in my life."

"One is also your past, but only you know which one it is."

"That's just it, what if I can't decide."

"Well, you're asking the wrong person for advice Josh."

"The problem is that I have no one to turn to for an opinion that isn't directly involved." I say, hugging Penny. "You're the only one I can trust with this."

"I have faith in you, but you have to let one go."

"What if I don't want to?"
*****

You know you can thank me for Lila Sleater referring to us a caged animals, since I kinda gave her the idea.

See animals have no tact, they see something they want and they go after it. But I think what's even more telling is that when you put two animals in a cage and force them to fight, you see one establish themself as the alpha male. And it's not really that difficult to understand what traits an alpha exhibits; skill, strength, determination, heart, but most notably the desire for survival. We talk a lot in this sport about fighting to survive, but a lot of people don't have the slightest clue what that actually means. How many people on today's roster have really had their life put in jeopardy, forced to accept that maybe the sands have ran through that clichéd hourglass and mortality is all that's left to face?

I can probably count it on one hand, so that means the rest are spewing bullsh*t rhetoric to pump themselves up.

Phonies.

Yes, I'm including you in that latter category Trace, since we're all about putting labels on each other now. What's worse is that none of your digs are original. You have your standard dumb redneck digs, insinuations about my marriage, and your typical run downs about my place on the card. Now ask yourself, if any of these things were true, then why would the self professed 'smartest man in the room' even bother with a guy so low on the totem pole... let alone promote him such a high profile match? That's not very intelligent, and quite frankly I expected better from you throughout this whole experience. Imagine my lack of surprise and the overall disappointment I have in a fellow ex champ.

But this isn't about how you've attempted to manipulate the narrative because hey, everyone has to make themselves relevant in the public eye. And I suppose I'm as good of an option as anyone, given how I'm the hottest commodity you've got right now and you haven't done much of note since... well I'm struggling to remember a time when you weren't simply trying to recreate the wheel. No this is about competition, what it's always been for me. Just another notch in my belt on my road back to reclaiming what's rightfully mine. I came out of retirement and said that I wanted to earn my fat paycheck, which honestly Trace I out flanked you at the negotiating table as well. So I've taken on the best you had available since that day and the results speak for themselves. Can you say you've really been doing the same thing?

Don't worry, I'll wait.

Come to think about it, of all the interactions we've had with each other over these past couple years, there's one time you weren't completely full of garbage. It was when I fought to get Dave reinstated so that we could get our rightful Tag Title shot, and you told me that you don't have to like someone to do business. And it was said with the silent acknowledgment that we would stay out of each other's affairs until the time came for us to cross swords. But it was never going to be that way, was it? I knew that you were planning something, although you went and managed to screw that up in the process. Not exactly Fortune 500 business acumen buddy, but I digress. You had a title shot waiting when I beat Drakz for the belt, and that's what you really wanted. All you had to do was ask since you're just itching for a fight, and I've made it perfectly clear I'm not that hard to find. Really you didn't have to go this route, but you did and now you can't take it back Trace.

So I'm curious though as to why align with a guy that you can't beat one on one, which by large will always keep you on the back burner all to spite a guy who as you so eloquently put 'not ready yet'?

It should be clear yet it isn't, so let me simplify it for you because I have a theory. I've been the reason you had to change your plans, in fact I've been coercing you into doing things you didn't want to do for the past two years starting with my substantial contract. And you haven't even noticed that each step of the way I've exceeded you on a personal and professional level, proving that I am the best wrestler on the planet and consequently sending you into a more desperate state. What makes it better is I did it without your endorsement, which at this point means sh*t.

That's the part eating you up, someone succeding through their own merit and not being used as a pawn in your collusion, and that jealousy is written all over your face. See assimilation has never been my forte, so it took me a little longer to get there. However I did it, completing the Triple Crown and ending the longest reign with the World Heavyweight Title in history. I DID THAT! And you, you couldn't stand me having one up, so you tried to freeze hell over and align with Drakz, giving him a wet wipe to clean the sh*t off his face after I made him eat it for overlooking me. All in the name of business, yet this really has a personal touch on it, and thats because you made it that way. Attacking Nikki and Penny, torturing the McGurks, and let's not forget what you've been doing to the young kid in Trevor Wolf by feeding him to your monster.

You wanted to make this personal Trace, now you're going to pay dearly for the sins you've committed. No amount of white noise propaganda can save you from what happens in Boston. You said I've forgotten who you are, but that's simply inaccurate. I know exactly who you are, and be frank you are the same kid playing with Ouija boards that I met ten years ago. You weren't quite good enough then, and you're even more mediocre now. The only difference is the titans that were around when we broke in are gone, so you can thank age for being on your side. There's not much else going for you, and there'll be even less in Boston when the cage door closes. Oh yeah, you can thank me for that too.

Let's see how well you fare when you're forced to survive against a guy whose life has been predicated on not only surviving, but evolving and thriving. The worst part here is that you've foolishly liberated my conscience, and there are some very sordid things I'm willing to do if it means surviving. You think getting the blunt end of a trophy was bad, that was just a prelude. You will not be the same after Black Hole Sun, that much I guarantee. And when it's all over with and I walk out of that cage victorious, I'm taking back what you stole from me, no matter who has my belt.

I am the rightful WFWF World Heavyweight Champion and there's nothing you or your army can do about it.

Maybe after this you'll learn not to push a good man, especially when he pushes back.