The Hands that climb, The Hands that slipped.

I rolled over in my bed and saw a text message from Jack. I ignored the scores upon scores of him berating me for drinking too much during night two of Tropical Turmoil. I had gotten back to Montreal the night before and had been sprawled out on my bed like a beached whale.

There is only so much mothering a man can take from a moron trying to act smart. Heh, guess I am not one to talk these days. But today is one of those days where I can see through the fog and realize what a goddamn mess everything is. I finally got to the end of the message to see that your undefeated Vendor King has a match.

I have taken a few days to wrap my head around the similarities I have with my opponent. It made me cringe because if I ever say BRO in an uncondescending way then I really know I have completely lost it.

Some say I already have but most of you don’t understand who I am. I have my good days and I have a lot of bad days. But I am not defined by your narrow standards on who I should be.

Clay Byrd wants me to be a Highwayman even though he betrayed the core principle of always having each other’s backs and joined up with a group he used to despise. Why would I want to live up to the expectations of someone who doesn’t truly care about my well-being? He is just doing LT’s dirty work. Saying those words makes me want to vomit.

Crash Jackson, I feel for you. I understand exactly what you are going through on a personal and professional level. I have a lot of respect for you if you can get up for this match. It isn't easy losing your love and your revenge match, not to mention the screwdriver scar you will have the rest of your life.

You will look in the mirror at that scar and remember Max Kael for the rest of your life. The longer you dabble your whole body into the twisted world of Maximillian the harder it will be to escape. If you are hellbent on winning Purps back, then I hope you are prepared to be traumatized for life.

Heh, but who am I to preach to someone on how they should live their life? I just wish that the happiness I want for you would be wished upon me. I trudge through city, state, country and I still haven't found what can fill the huge hole in my heart. Well…other than alcohol, cocaine, weed…you get the picture. (sigh)

Is it opening your cut further on my way to staying undefeated?

Is it selling my amazing merchandise to the PRIME faithful?

I cannot even imagine a world where I can make a decision that is purely selfish right now. Oh, don't roll your eyes LT, I know it is hard for you to not move past your past prejudices of me. I spent over a year looking for meaning in my life and when I found it I needed money. I no longer had the cash resources I once had so I made a few mistakes. These mistakes have become larger than I could ever imagine.

Crash, I don't have any control over my actions in the ring. I am controlled by those who depend on me, and that pressure has not made a diamond…yet. It has made a gelatinous mass of nonsense that leads me around like a drug addict to its next fix. I will not enjoy hurting you, but you should understand that one must do whatever it can to protect others.

Your blood means naught to me.

Your feelings are meaningless.

If Canada has taught me anything it is that even those with a kind word and a friendly smile have something dark, they wish to keep hidden.

Mine is a monster crawling at the back of my brain but I can control it…I can…

…Till the bell rings.

—

Montreal, Quebec, Canada

July 9th, 2024.

Repeatedly I have said that I am going to be the responsible one now. Since that day Steve has become someone with no purpose, so I was here to help him find it again. I was under the impression that wrestling would not be the outlet to help him rebound and as of now…it isn’t. Clay Byrd that cowboy carny and his group of glass ceilings have forced him back into the ring and by doing so put him back in a spotlight he knows is dangerous.

Unfortunately for me, I have discovered it is more perilous than I first thought.

The moment I stepped out from the Taxi was the moment I realized I made a mistake. A bag was placed over my head after I had only taken five steps down the sidewalk. At first the smell of Tim Hortons Apple Fritters filled my nose, but it was followed by a pull and twist of my arm and then being tossed into the back of what I assumed was a van. As soon as I was thrown into the van, they tied my wrists together with zip ties and slammed the door.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

“Is anyone there?”

That went on for a few minutes until I realized I was either alone in the back of the van or nobody was allowed to talk to me. The smell of apple fritters was no longer keeping me calm in this situation. I was now hungry to go along with being scared.

Where are they taking me?

Were they going to kill me?

I should have just left this to the boss.

The van stopped and I heard the noise of two doors opening. People were talking but I could not understand it. The door to the back of the van opened slowly and I was then blinded by the sun as the bag was ripped from my head.

I blinked.

“Oh Jack, you don't look too comfortable. Guys, this is my guest. You can cut the zip ties off his wrists.”

Suddenly I was free, and my right hand went to shield my eyes from the sun. My eyes finally became accustomed to the sun, and I saw HIM standing in front me, on either side of him stood men with guns holstered and an amused look on their faces.

He could tell I was fixated on the guns and gave me a smile, “those are just for show…”

I eased up.

He wasn't finished though.

“...for now.”

I gulped and my eyes darted from one gun to the other. HE put his hands up and shook his head, “Jack, relax, we are just going to have a pleasant chit-chat.”

I searched the area and realized the van had been parked in the middle of nowhere. Behind them was a forest, to the left was a forest, and to the right was a run down shed the color of rust. “Oh…um…none of this seems pleasant, sir.”

HIS smile faded, “I meant for me. What gave you the balls to contact us and not expect something like this?”

“I…”

He interrupted me before I could talk. I was beginning to feel like this might be my final resting place. “No, I will talk. You will listen and answer my questions. Nod to me that you understand.”

I nodded slowly and looked at all the directions again. there was nowhere to run, and they had their hands on their holsters now.

HE crossed his arms over his chest. “You fools sent that woman to us, to what…give us ten percent of the money you owe me? Where is the money, Jack?”

I opened my mouth to respond but nope, “did I tell you to respond?”

I shook my head as fear began to drown me under the weight of my oncoming death.

“Where are THEY?”

I just stared at him.

“Where is Steve?”

I continued to stare at HIM.

He scoffed at me and then said, “you can answer now.”

I had no answers though. I was about to resign myself to a fate that I could have avoided. Why did I think I could solve this problem? I really wanted to be more than just Jack Marley, a forty-four year old lifetime lackey to wrestlers. I quit doing drugs and for what…to be shot in the woods of Canada?

I lowered my eyes afraid of looking HIM in the eyes and said, “I have no answers, sir.”

He groaned, “why did you call me, Jack, if you have nothing to give me?”

I looked up and my mouth opened to speak but nothing came out. I was paralyzed with dread as my eyes darted from gun to gun and then to HIS arm that had moved behind his back. He shook his head with a frown but before anything could go further, I unfroze, “I want to talk terms of what we owe you. I promise we will pay it all back.”

He laughed loudly which caused his cronies to laugh as well. He got close and put his left arm around my shoulders and got close to my ear. “There isn't anything you can offer me, son.”

It all went black after that.

–

Quebec, Canada

July, 9th, 2024.

Miles away on the outskirts of the province Steve Harrison parked his rental car outside of a small farmhouse that was hidden with trees for as far as the eye can see. He looked around suspiciously to make sure nobody was around and quickly moved to the house.  He walked up the stairs and the front door opened seconds before he got to the door. An old man, life experience showing on each wrinkle of his face. He smiles at Steve and holds the door open for him.

“Those Wi-Fi security cameras are good up to three hundred feet, Steve.”

Harrison closes the door behind himself and nods to the man's statement. “I would say it was money well spent, but I don't have any and you brought them.”

He shook his head, “I am getting up in age, Steve, I may as well spend my money to help those I like.”

“Doc,” Steve pauses and taps his left index finger on the side of his head as he thinks to himself. “I um…your family doesn’t object?”

“I have been divorced since I was your age, Steve and we never got around to having any kids.” The Doc walks as quickly as his old legs can to the kitchen and sits down. A glass of water is already there. He takes a sip of it and then places the glass back down at the same time Harrison sits down across from him.

“And you are in the middle of nowhere with only THEM to talk to, any regrets?”

The Doc waves Steve off, “you haven't ever talked with me like this before, Steve. I don't have any regrets. I fell in love with someone while I was married and after the divorce we made the best of it. I wouldn't change a thing…well, SHE and I both agreed there was something very important we failed at.”

“Oh…that sounds like something you regret.”

The Doc swiftly grabs his water and takes a big gulp. His face has changed from happy to nervous, but Steve doesn't catch on or is unable to understand. “Enough about the past, Steve, let's talk about the issues we have now.”

“Money?”

“Yes, to continue what you are doing here, we need more money.”

The former Miracle Man nods, “I have had some money go missing recently and on top of that THEY know I am around again and have already sent me a text message.”

“How much do you owe?”

“Don’t worry about it, Doc. I will take care of it some way or another. I had two good nights in Portugal and will leave you what I can from that.”

Harrison slides a wad of cash over to Doc. “This should help for the time being. I don't want to step over any lines but…have you spoken to Rebecca?”

“No.”

“Did you get the robe?”

“Oh yea, Jack gave me the robe. It helped calm my nerves.”

The Doc raises his eyebrow in confusion, “did he say it was from him?”

“I…why?”

“Rebecca sent that to Jack to give to you, is what she told me.”

Steve sighs and taps his fingers on the kitchen table, “interesting.”

“Taking his manager role a little too seriously?”

“I am going to have to have a talk with him, but I am not oblivious to the fact he has a lot more on his shoulders because of me.”

“You seem…ok?”

Steve laughs quietly and then points his finger around the farmhouse, “this place centers me and I hate that it was Sandy’s idea.”

“Makes sense,” The Doc leans forward and grabs Harrison’s hand as it is still pointing. “This hand like your other I am guessing doesn't look much better than last time I was this close to them.”

Steve maneuvers his hand free and grunts, “get used to it…if I am wrestling again.”

“Ice them daily, Steve, you want to pick up your children someday.”

“CHILDREN?!?”

He smiles back at Steve, “it is just nice to see you are making steps back up the mountain, I don't want to see you like you were when you left the pit.”

—

December 19th, 2022

Chicago

Steve Harrison sat on the edge of the wrestling ring in quiet reflection. He looked at the empty seats that littered the Best Arena. It had been several hours since Iconic had ended and not even a janitor was left.  The Arena was still a mess (it's Chicago after all). It was just The Miracle Man looking out for the last time at an Arena that had welcomed him back to wrestling in 2020. He did not know at that time that it would be the last time he would wrestle there but there was something stabbing him in the brain repeatedly.

“Do you enjoy this?”

This was to be the resurrection for The Suplex Saint. He was finally getting the match with Conor Fuse that had eluded him for years. It wasn’t because he hadn’t tried or even begged for the match. No, sometimes you always had to take a back seat to the family. The match didn’t mean as much as it could have been months or even years ago. When it was finally signed Harrison couldn’t help but grin because he could end the jealousy he felt for Conor. By doing so he could finally lay bare the fraudulent behaviors of his sworn enemy.

Instead, he lost.

Surprise.

“Do you enjoy this?”

His legs kicked in unison as they hung off the side of the ring. He sighed and locked his eyes on Section 214 and gave it a salute as if Joe Bergman was sitting there still cheering him on. He wasn’t and the section itself never cared for Steve anyway. There were always whispers throughout The Highwaymen that Steve Harrison would turn on all of them in a heartbeat. Clay Byrd even had the gall to say that to Steve’s face after Solex was the one to turn on them.

What was the point then?

If nobody ever trusted him for almost a year, then why did they even struggle in that stupid dance with that idiot owner and his group of dick riders?

“Do you enjoy this?”

“When was the last time I did?” he whispered to himself.

It had been a long time if truth be told. It wasn’t something he ever talked about with his stablemates or anyone in his circle. He won matches…a lot of matches but every match was a chore to get up for. He was up late every night trying to pinpoint the second, the minute, the hour, the day, (you get the idea) when he just stopped caring. It wasn’t just one thing he realized. That didn’t stop his brain from over analyzing everything and not allowing him to sleep.

Something new would always add to his discontent.

“Do you enjoy this?”

“NO!”

He punched the mat, left-right-left-right, it went on for twenty seconds until both of his knuckles were busted open, blood dripping from them.

‘FUCK THIS!”

His scream echoed throughout the empty arena, bouncing off the guardrail he used to bludgeon Arthur Pleasant when he won the LSD Title and back to the announcers table where he had to listen weekly to a set of the worst announcers this side of ESPN.

The noise brought out some familiar footsteps. Harrison didn’t even budge to look at who it was. The slow walk with the occasional scuffing sound gave his presence away to the Miracle Man.

“Steve, everyone is looking for you.”

Without moving Steve chuckled to himself and responded, “who is everyone?”

“Well: me, Jack, and Rebecca.”

Of course, he thought as both his hands began to swell. There was no Clay Byrd or Joe Bergman to check up on their friend? He had come to realize that it was the end of an era.

Everyone for themselves was the new moniker for this world of liars and sycophants.

The man finally was standing in front of Steve Harrison. Steve lowered his eyes from looking at the arena and looked at The Doc. Steve dropped his eyes quickly when he realized the sincerity that was in The Doc's eyes.

“What did you do to your hands?” The Doc grabbed both his hands and watched as the blood began to drip and fall to the floor.

“It’s nothing.”

The Doc rolled his eyes and shook his head. “We need to get these on ice right away and I can wrap them up afterwards. Hopefully nothing is broken, can you move your fingers?”

I guess not everyone was in it for themselves, Harrison thought. His fingers moved very slowly and were followed with a grimace and a yelp from the mouth of our fallen hero. “I…ow, guess I went overboard, ugh.”

“Come on,” The Doc motioned for Steve to follow him. Harrison nodded towards The Doc and noticed the sadness that was on The Doc’s face. He couldn’t help but think The Doc was mirroring his own look.

Sad.

Steve Harrison realized he was sad at that moment.

Sad at his friends never trusting him.

Sad that he couldn’t tell the woman he loved how he felt.

Sad that he had lost to Conor Fuse.

Sad that his life’s dream was now nothing but a job he no longer enjoyed.

He followed behind The Doc towards the entrance ramp but could not feel his feet as they touched the floor. He had become numb the moment he realized what he was feeling, it was almost alien to him. It had taken over two years, step by step, lesson after lesson but he just then understood his emotions.

This is the growth he had yearned for. The memories he regained a year ago were more than just dreams now.

He took a step.

He frowned.

He took more steps.

He didn’t like this. He couldn’t grasp everything flooding into him at once.

His steps got quicker.

He sped past The Doc, his head down the whole time. He got to the entrance and tore through the tattered curtain and into the hallway. His steps slowed, his breath quickened, and he stumbled into a trashcan, tackling it to the floor.

Jack Marley came running towards him. Harrison sat up and leaned against the wall, he put his bloodied hands up to his face and stared at them. Even though they had begun to swell they still uncontrollably shook, the pain unstoppable.

“YOU OK, BOSS!” Jack yelled, his voice worried, as he huffed and puffed with his hands on his knees at where Steve had collapsed.

Harrison did not register Jack's comment and continued to stare at his hands. He took several small quick breaths and then closed his eyes. That didn’t work though as all the memories were being screened to his eyelids. Jack bent down and started shaking Steve’s shoulders, “STEVE! STEVE!”

Steve’s eyes opened slowly and was met with the worried eyes of Jack Marley. Jack was inches away from Steve’s face, his eyes boring a hole into Harrison’s tired eyes. “Where am I?”

Jack, not understanding the severity of what had happened, chuckled softly and responded, “I would want to forget where I was too if I owed Conor Fuse a handshake and a new PS5, mon.”

Harrison stood up after the remark, his eyes went blank, he turned around and walked slowly towards the exit of the arena. Jack's yells were nothing but muffled noise to him as he left the Best Area for the last time.

He had finished the descent.