New Year, Same old me

A

COLOSSUS 

FAILURE

Two days have passed since Colossus, but it feels like it's been much longer. I have not left my hotel room since I hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the knob and slammed the door shut behind me, turning off the ringer on my phone to avoid notifications as well. I didn't want to be bothered, and Big Hess had been blowing up my phone since I left SoFi.

I wanted to shut myself off, to tune out the voice in my head telling me that I had failed again – that I had fallen short on PRIME's biggest show of the year at yet another defining moment of my career. I couldn't win the PRIME tag team championships for the Bandits, couldn't win the Universal championship for myself when I had the chance, and probably didn't stand a chance in hell of sniffing another shot at that one ever again.

My return to PRIME has been a joke, and I'm not a big fan of the punchline.

Can't think of anyone that would, then again Cancer's been laughing quite a bit these days – more than likely at my expense. That is what I signed up for after all, so I only have myself to blame. Still, I thought a change of scenery would do me some good. Fading into the background of someone else's spotlight, a pitbull ready to strike an unsuspecting fool that stumbled too close.

I've been less of a pitbull, and more of a Chihuahua though. All bark and no bite when it comes down to it, getting pats on the back of a job well done in holding my own against some of the actual talent here in PRIME. They don't give out title shots to guys that hold their own though, no those go to the people that win the matches they are in.

All I've done is bring down the ones around me, down to the pits of failure where they can roll around in the mud with me. I did it to Bobby, then when I ruined his run I went and did the same to Hessian. He told me it wasn't my fault, tried to shoulder some of the blame for our loss at Colossus, but I was the one that let Morty get the better of me. Took me out with one of my own moves, and I never saw it coming.

Guess I had a bigger influence on Morty than I thought, though I doubt he'd ever admit it. Hell, I doubt I would ever give him the kudos he deserves for getting one over on me.

Not my style.

Is being a loser considered a style?

The pain from the throbbing in my skull and the bruising on my ribs is nothing compared to the pain I feel in my heart when I forget everything that happened that night, and remember the conversation I had with Victoria earlier that day.

Olivia did not want me to show up for Christmas.

I figured with Eddie coming out and telling the truth about his lawsuit against me being fabricated, that she would realize that I wasn't the same man in her World that I am in my own. That the Tony Gamble she saw at a PRIME event, wasn't the same one that sat across from her at dinner or held her hand when they went out for ice cream.

Truth be told, I wasn't convinced there was a difference either.

I wanted there to be, tried my best to be who she needed me to be, but that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted me to be Nate Colton – I'm pretty sure she'd settle for Coral Avalon – but it wasn't in my nature. I could never fight the good fight in the ring, do what Youngblood did and earn the fan's respect and admiration.

I'm the bad guy.

=-=-=-=-=

AN 

UNCOMFORTABLE 

SITUATION

“I'm not a bad guy, Olivia,” Nick Cruz stood across from Olivia Henderson. Black metal bars surrounded them on either side, with flat pieces of treated wood bolted to them at ninety degree angles. Judging by the glossy hardwood floor they were standing on, they appeared to be behind the bleachers in a gym; more than likely the one at their middle school. “I can be nice to you…if you're nice to me.”

A tear slid down her cheek, rested on her chin as she shook her head, “I can't.”

“Yes you can,” he stepped forward, reached out and wiped the tear from her face, then licked it from his finger. “You just don't want to. I don't understand why though.”

He leaned down a bit to look up at her face, her gaze focused on the flowers Violet had hand painted on her white Van's during Thanksgiving break. A crooked smile creased his lips when she diverted her attention away from him. “You used to think I was cute, isn't that what you told Denise in Mrs. Gurson's class.”

“That was…” she stammered, clearly not comfortable with the situation she found herself in. “…nevermind”

“So you don't think I'm cute anymore,” he asked with a devilish grin, his hand on her chin as another tear streaked her cheek. He lifted her attention away from her shoes, though she still avoided his gaze. “You should be happy I'm giving you a chance like this. Do you honestly think someone that looks like you would ever have a chance with someone like me? I'm giving you a bone here, all you have to do is take it.”

The way he said that made her stomach turn. Her unwillingness had more to do with not feeling comfortable with doing the things he was asking her, than whether she believed he was cute or not. Despite the stories she had heard about other girls her age being okay with such sexual behavior, it wasn't something she had any desire to explore.

“It'll be our little secret,” he whispered to her, as he wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “You do want me to be nicer to you, don't you?”

“I do,” she hesitated for a moment. “I just can't do what you're asking.”

“I bet you let Violet touch your boobs,” his tone changed, the anger and frustration grew as he grabbed her by the shoulders. “Is that what it is, I was right about you not liking boys. Just close your eyes, you won't even notice the difference.”

“Let go of me,” she tried to pull away, but his grip tightened as he pulled her closer.

“I wanted to be nice to you, Olivia, to give you a choice.” He spun her around and pulled her close to him, her back against his chest as he wrapped one arm around her waist and the other across her chest as he leaned in close to her ear. “But if you're not going to play nice, I'm not going to be nice either.”

He placed his hand on her mouth before she could scream out. She was able to take him by surprise before, but he knew now what she was capable of and he was much stronger than she was. He knew how to use that against her now, but she still attempted to get free so he hugged her tighter.

“You think I've been hard on you before,” he nuzzled his nose against her ear. “It's going to get much, much worse. The best part is, no one's going to believe you if you do say something, because no one gives a shit about you.”

She fell to her hands and knees when he shoved her away, eyes clenched shut as the worry about what could happen next began to flood her mind.

“Not even your dad cares anymore. You're pathetic.”

She felt deep down that he was right, she was pathetic. For years she had ignored Eddie's comments – allowed him to make snide remarks about her and many others – turned the other cheek, and not allowed anyone to know just how much the words actually hurt. It was never more than words though. That is, until she retaliated. The moment she stood up for herself, initiated physical contact, it opened up a whole new world of hurt in her life.

Now it seemed as if the abuse was about to shift gears, becoming more than she was prepared to endure. She tried to get up off the floor, but she couldn't move. No matter how much she willed herself to rise, her body failed to respond. So she just gave up, stayed there on her hands and knees sobbing. She wanted the pain to stop.

She knew a way to make the pain go away, even if just for a moment.

=-=-=-=-=

THE

USS

OCTANE

“Does the pain ever really go away?” I have asked myself this question quite often, but lately it was for a different reason.

Standing here with the phonebook in my hand as the rest of the Bandits cheer me on. Well, not all the Bandits, since Bobby is on his back struggling to get back to his feet after knocking him over with a strong swing of said phonebook. Still, I smile my permanent smile and acknowledge the praise for a moment, before helping my fellow Bandit to a seated position.

It's always been easy for me to look happy. The scar stretching out to my ear on the left side of my face was a huge help, but it was the mask I wore that kept everyone from knowing how I really felt, because I have never been one to show weakness.

I've had my ass handed to me on multiple occasions, been scheduled against behemoths more times than I can count, but I've never shied away from a fight or an opportunity to run my mouth about an opponent. You'd think by now I would have learned better, but the moment I do that is the moment I acknowledge that it's time for me to step away.

I thought that moment had come, but then Cancer showed up at my door with an opportunity of a lifetime. I'd say it's probably his biggest regret, but this thing with Vickie is fresh so I might have a chance at second place. Suffice to say, this is one accomplishment I'm okay with not winning.

A big meaty paw slaps my back, like my entire back, and without turning around I already know who it belongs to…the man I let down at Colossus.

No, not Jiles, the other guy…my actual partner in the match…

Hessian.

“Way to go,” are the words that come out of his mouth, but what I hear is “Oh, now you knock someone on their ass.”

I nod, the all too familiar grin on my face as I drop the phonebook and walk away. “Thanks,” is what I say as I do. I'm not looking for empathy from anybody, least of all the man that drove me out to the middle of nowhere to test me. Who the hell did he think he was anyway…testing me? It’s like he forgot that I'm the same man that put him down both times we've ever faced off in the ring. He of all people should know how far I’m willing to go to succeed. Maybe if I had the same hunger I did when I cut the Murder Show season short back then, I'd be standing here with one of the tag team titles draped over my shoulder.

So would he.

“Coming through!”

I know the guys a few sheets to the wind after multiple glasses of that celebratory wine, but Jiles is on another level lately. Honestly, I don't think he even had any alcohol in him during our little circle of trust, and I hope it was a little blue pill that had him excited about sharing his goals for the year. Where the hell is Jiles going with that bucket of water anyway, I swear him and Vickie are into some freaky stuff. If there is one thing I'm thankful for on this trip, it's that this is a big ship and that pair are on the other side of it from me. Apparently, word around the carton is that Vickie could give Lassie a run for her money in the howling department.

If nothing else, I should be happy I don't have that problem. Honestly, that would be a welcome problem…it would at least be one I could get rid of, or shove a sock in its mouth to quiet it down.

Instead, I'm on this boat avoiding Hessian, so I don't have to talk about costing us the tag team titles. I'm on this boat – heading to the land of spiders the size of dogs and kangaroos that could go a couple of rounds with Tyson – instead of figuring out how to get back in my daughter's life, because Clay Byrd may be a coward, but he isn't the only coward.

I can't deal with my Olivia situation right now, but I can deal with my other issue. I need to talk to Hess, because as much as I don't want to give up on the tag team titles…maybe he'd be better off tagging with Bobbo.

I'm just not good enough.

Even if I pretend to be on the internet.

=-=-=-=-=

THE

YELLOW

PAGES

“I have to say, you're pretty damn impressive.”

A grin.

“A cowboy.”

A stool.

“Member of Vae Victis.”

The Grin.

“Undefeated.”

The Stool.

“You're a survivor, Clay.”

Tony Gamble.

“And now you're stepping into the ring with me.”

The real star of the show.

“Again.”

The one who thinks he is.

“I want to say that things are going to be different this time.”

The Stool knows that they won't, but he's never been one to burst Tony's bubble.

“I want to say that you got lucky, that I'm going to start this new year on the right foot, and it starts with a victory over you at ReVival 61.”

New Year Resolutions usually last two weeks, the show is on the 17th.

“I'm not going to say it though, because that's not what's going to happen.”

Oh, that's different.

“Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to go into this match expecting to lose. That's just not the kind of guy that I am, but you know that already.”

Okay, maybe not that different.

“You know that you have a fight coming at ReVival, and that your victory isn't guaranteed.”

The Stool has a fresh varnish though, the wood was getting a bit dull.

“Thing is, you have a better shot than I do. You have the pedigree, and the power of Troy in your corner.”

The light just accentuates the sheen.

“The Queen Bandit has chosen a side, and while it is the wrong one…who can deny she has her favorite pets and they've been on a bit of a roll since arriving.”

No one even notices the scar on Tony's face, much less the man.

“No sense crying over spilled milk, because let's face it…I don't win matches anyway.”

It's like he knows he's a bridesmaid, never the bride.

“Why would this one be any different?”

It won't be Tony, so instead of rambling maybe you should just stand there while the Stool does what it does best.

“Well, it is a new year…maybe there actually could be a new me.”