Fighting Back

“Adam!  Ginny!”

Mrs. Ellis greeted Adam Ellis and Ginny Van Lear warmly, making them feel at home right away as they stepped through the front door of the family home, grateful to escape the chilly March air.

"Come on in, you two," she said, leading them to the coat hangers by the front door.

They were immediately enveloped in a warm hug of comfort as they shed their coats and scarves, revealing their stylish yet practical winter attire. The familiar scent of Mrs. Ellis' famous apple pie lingered in the air, welcoming them back with open arms. The living room was a comforting haven, adorned with plush couches, soft throw blankets, and a crackling fireplace that cast dancing shadows on the walls. The scent of vanilla candles filled the air, adding to the cozy atmosphere.

"Adam, your father is in the den, but he'll be out soon for dinner."

“Thanks Mom.”

Adam took Ginny's coat and hung them both up on the coat rack. Ginny paused to admire the family photos and intricate wall hangings in the foyer. The soft light from the chandelier cast a warm glow on the polished wooden floors, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Mrs. Ellis brought out four delicate bone china plates, each one hand-painted with vibrant floral patterns and a gold rim that glinted in the light.

“Aw, those dishes are cute as a punkin’,” Ginny complimented her.

"Oh, thank you dear," Mrs. Ellis replied with a smile, placing the plates on the table one by one. "They were passed down to me from my grandmother."

"May I lend a hand with them plates, Mrs. Ellis?" Ginny offered as Mrs. Ellis began to set the table.

"Oh no, dear." Mrs. Ellis gently patted Ginny's hand. "Just relax in the recliner and I'll take care of these. Dinner will be in just a few minutes."

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ginny gratefully sank back into the plush recliner, feeling its soft velvety fabric against her skin. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth and comfort it provided. The aroma of lasagna and biscuits cooking in the kitchen wafted through the air, making her stomach growl with hunger.

While Ginny rested, Adam walked into the den to talk to his father.

"Hey Dad," he said, trying to sound nonchalant but unable to hide the worry in his voice.

Mr. Ellis stood up from his worn leather armchair, towering over his son with a sturdy build and a warm smile. Adam was six-foot-four inches tall… his father was six-foot-six.  His salt and pepper hair was neatly combed back, and his kind brown eyes showed signs of wisdom and experience.

"Adam," he said warmly, clasping his hand in a firm handshake. "What's on your mind?"

“A few things.”

“Oh?” His father sat down in the chair.   “Good ahead.  I’m listening.”

Adam nervously shifted on his feet, sweat beading on his forehead.  “Doubts,” he began.

“Doubts?”

“Yeah… doubts.”

“Doubts are like weights… they’ll drag you down,” Mr. Ellis advised.  “What’s going on?”

"Well, I've been on a losing streak in PRIME," Adam finally admitted to his father, his voice heavy with defeat. "It seems like no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to break through.  Every time I think I’m starting to make progress… and then the next thing I know, I’ve suddenly lost five matches in a row."

His father's steady gaze softened as he leaned forward, placing a comforting hand on Adam's tense shoulder. "You've always been determined and hardworking."

Adam couldn't help but voice his fears aloud. "What if my hard work isn't enough?

Mr. Ellis held his son's gaze, his own eyes brimming with conviction. "I don’t know much about pro wrestling… but I know that it’s a tough business.  Tough… cutthroat… very competitive.”

“What if I'm just not good enough?"

“Adam, you have what it takes to succeed. I've seen your dedication and talent firsthand.  However," Mr. Ellis continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I do think it would help if you stopped getting mired in these petty little wars with people.  For example, why are you letting people like Kerry Kuroyama get under your skin?  And what’s going on with Bill Dickinson? I thought you two had resolved your issues."

Adam let out a defeated sigh. "I don't know," he mumbled, avoiding his father's probing gaze.

"So Kuroyama called you 'vanilla.' So what?" Mr. Ellis shrugged dismissively. "Who cares what Kerry Kuroyama thinks??  He barely beat you." Mr. Ellis gave Adam's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. " So what’s Dickinson’s beef with you?”

“He thinks I’m a threat to his title.” Adam sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“That’s because you are a threat to his title," Mr. Ellis replied matter-of-factly.

"And he thinks I kind of jumped the line when I re-signed with MVW,” Adam added.

"Did you jump the line when you returned to MVW?"

"It wasn't my intention-"

"Did you jump the line?" Mr. Ellis raised an eyebrow in question.

"No," Adam shook his head. "Another wrestler who had gotten hurt.  I came in and won a match to get into the main division."

"Then what are you worried about?" Mr. Ellis leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. "So, big bad Bill Dickinson is mad about something you had no control over. Who cares? And Kerry Kuroyama.  The name-calling makes him look petty and small. Screw him.  Even that announcer guy who took shots at you... who cares?  Screw him, too." Mr. Ellis stopped and smiled. “There’s no reason to fight those battles… you need to be focused on a much bigger picture… getting better as a wrestler... and getting ready for War Games.”

Adam couldn't help but chuckle at his father's dismissive tone towards his perceived enemies.

Mr. Ellis knew deep down there was more to this.  "What's really bothering you, son?" he finally asked, his gaze soft and understanding.

Adam's hands clenched tightly in his lap as he struggled to find the words. "It's just...I have so much riding on this career," he began, feeling the weight of his anxieties. "I'm married to Ginny now.  We have a baby on the way. What if I can't provide for them? What if I can't be the husband and father they deserve to have?"

Mr. Ellis leaned forward in his chair, placing a hand on Adam's knee in a gesture of comfort. "You know, son," he began softly, "many people spend their whole lives searching for what you've already found - a job that brings fulfillment and joy.  But it's not just about providing for your family financially. It's about being present and involved in their lives, showing them love and support.”

“I know.”

"You're already a wonderful husband and son," Mr. Ellis said sincerely. "And I have no doubt you'll be a wonderful father as well."

"Thank you, Dad," Adam said gratefully. Feeling uplifted and encouraged, he stood up and started to make his way back to the living room.

"Anytime, son." Mr. Ellis smiled warmly. “Oh.  One more thing.”

Adam stopped and turned back to face his father.

“Do you remember the time you got yourself suspended from school for a week for punching out one of your classmates who’d been bullying Mike McWilliams?”  Mr. Ellis paused as Adam nodded that he did. “I wasn’t happy that you were suspended… but I respected the reason you did it.  You were fighting for something… to stick up for your friend… to right a wrong.  Am I right?”

“Yeah,” Adam replied, nodding affirmatively in return.  “Yeah I was.”

“Maybe you’ve gotten yourself too lost in the weeds, Adam.  Maybe you need to figure out just what you’re fighting for…” Mr. Ellis's gaze shifted to the sleeping form of Ginny in the recliner in the other room. She had drifted off into a peaceful sleep, her gentle snores filling the room.  “…or for who.”

He pulled a set of keys off a nearby table and tossed them to Adam.

“Here, take the keys and take your wife down to the cabin at Sunrise Beach for a couple of days.  Just relax … and get some figure things out in your mind before you and Ginny fly to Boston for next week’s PRIME show.”

Adam’s hand gripped the keys tightly.

“I will.”

****

After flying back from Boston after ReVival 45 Saturday morning, Adam stayed over in St. Louis and worked out in the weight room inside MVW Headquarters that afternoon.  Adam lay flat on his back, his hands gripped the cool steel of the weight machine above him, the padded seat beneath yielding to his determined form.

*CLANG*

The sound echoed through the empty room as he pushed upwards, muscles straining in symphony with his resolve. Each repetition was a personal rebellion against a string of losses that had slowed the progress of his PRIME Wrestling career.  Adam’s shoulders rose and fell with each exertion, his willingness to spend a Saturday afternoon in the weight room a testament to the small-town Midwest work ethic that his father instilled in him growing up in Warrensburg.

Alone, recent matches replayed in his mind while he worked out...

*CLANG*

The Alias Title match against Tony Gamble back in August.  Late in the match, Gamble hit Ellis with a low blow, rolled Adam into a small package, and grabbed the tights.

"Your winner, and STILL Alias Champion…TOOOONNNNNYYYYYY GAAAAAAMBLLLLLEEEEEEE!"

*CLANG*

Adam shook his head and pushed on.  The weights didn't care about winning or losing with honor. The weights only responded to force, to the sheer willpower of the man pushing against them. Adam poured every ounce of frustration and self-doubt into the burn of his muscles into the relentless ascent and descent of the bar.

*CLANG*

Eddie Cross now… Adam had Cross in a waistlock, muscles tensing as he lifted Eddie into a German Suplex bridge. He could almost feel the resistance again, the strain of holding the bridge, Eddie's shoulders pressed to the mat. But then, just like that, Eddie shifted, a surprise European Clutch, and Adam's own shoulders were down.

*CLANG*

Adam's hands clenched around the barbell as he recalled the sinking feeling, Eddie's body arched in perfect form.  ONE! TWO! THREE!!, the kick-out would come just a fraction after the final count confirming his defeat.

*CLANG*

Vince Howard's declaration reverberated through the past and into the present.  "Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner, by pinfall… EDDIE… N1GHTCRAW1ER… CRRROOOOOOSSSSS!!"

*CLANG*

Adam's next set began with an even greater intensity.

*CLANG*

Then there was 'The Revelator' Don Winters. Adam tried to put Winters in the Elevated Boston Crab but Winters had worked over his knees earlier in the match and as a result Adam’s foundation gave out. Winters pounced on the opportunity like a predator, seizing Adam and hoisting him into the air. The world spun, and the thunderous impact of Absolution drove him into the mat.

*CLANG*

He hadn't just been pinned; he'd been planted, buried under the might of Winters' finisher. Cover... 1... 2... 3.

*CLANG*

"Your winner…DON WINTERS!" The words stung, even now, as if they were being spoken anew. They resonated in the empty weight room. The sound mingling with the intensity of Adam's relentless workout.

*CLANG*

Kerry Kuroyama.   Kerry called him ‘vanilla’ before the match.  But Adam had fought back with a vengeance against his more experienced foe and pushed him until late in the match.  Adam could still feel the dizzying rotation as Kuroyama launched him into the air with a spin-out backdrop driver, the world blurring into a cyclone of lights and roars from the crowd.

*CLANG*

He remembered his spine screaming in agony as he crashed onto the mat. Then with a herculean effort, Kuroyama lifted Adam's solid frame onto his shoulders, muscles taut and veins bulging. The Emerald Flowsion was imminent, and when it hit, the impact reverberated through Adam's entire being, compressing his spine like an accordion. The referee's hand slapped the canvas once, twice, thrice.

*CLANG*

Adam pushed the weight up with even more ferocity, channeling his frustration into pure physical exertion.

*CLANG*

Before that ache could subside, another specter loomed in his mind: Harley Walker . Adam replayed the moment, the sharp sting of betrayal as Walker's running bulldog aka… The Cannonball Run… struck from behind, a blitz attack that robbed him of his bearings.

*CLANG*

He could almost hear the crowd's gasp turn into a thunderous roar as Walker ascended the ropes, perching atop the turnbuckle like a hawk eyeing its prey. The Guiness Record Breaker… a soaring testament to Walker's aerial prowess that compressed his chest under the force of Walker's full body weight. One... two... three.

*CLANG*

Again… so close… but yet so far.  Adam's grip tightened around the bars, his knuckles white with strain. At this particular moment, there was no one to witness this solitary struggle, no cheers or jeers to fuel him… only the relentless echo of past defeats and the burning desire to forge his destiny.

*CLANG*

Then there was the Bill Dickinson incident a couple weeks before.  He imagined taking the first Southern Fried Powerbomb from the 330 Pound Southern Brawler and that hurt… a lot.

*CLANG*

Dickinson rolled him up and that was that.  Except it wasn’t.  Dickinson reached down to ‘help’ him up after the match. Adam never saw the driving, ruthless knee Dickinson delivered deep into his gut coming.

*CLANG*

Then Dickinson slammed him to the mat with a second Southern Fried Powerbomb…

*CLANG*

…then a third one.

*CLANG*

With each lift, each punishing rep, Adam Ellis set forth to hammer out the dents in his armor and sharpen the edges of his resolve.

*CLANG*

Visions of the brutal attack on Chandler Tsonda at ReVival 44 replayed over and over in Adam’s mind…. Tsonda’s head split open after Ivan Stanislav drove him down… his head hitting the edge of a monitor on the broadcast table.  Then, Ivan lifting him up and slamming him onto the edge of the ring apron with a facepalm choke slam…

*CLANG*

…Tsonda's body going limp as Ivan tossed him back into the ring like a ragdoll… Ivan pressing down on his face and abdomen with his massive hands…  Nate Colton handcuffed to the bottom turnbuckle, unable to intervene… the referee counting to three, sealing Ivan's victory for his team.

*CLANG*

Replaying the incident took Adam back to his high school days... and the time he’d had enough of the bullying of his friend Mike McWilliams and finally decided to do something about it.   He recalled walking down the hallway with Mike.  Jake Foster, Mike’s tormenter, had just made the turn and was headed right for him.  Foster said something to Mike…

*CLANG*

…and Adam snapped and slammed Foster head first into the locker.  He drove Foster down to the ground and slapped on a Crossface Chickenwing submission hold.

Four teachers finally pulling Adam off him and a week’s suspension from school later, Jake Foster never bothered Mike again.  Even more, Foster made sure to keep a wide berth around Adam from that day forward.

*CLANG*

With each rep, Adam worked himself hard to be ready for a fight…  the fight of his life.  At Culture Shock, he would be going up against a team full of Jake Fosters…  Ivan Stanislav and his mealy-mouthed Baghdad Bob-like spokesman Alexei Ruslan who spreads propaganda with the same verve a farmer spreads manure all over his field.  Jonathan-Christopher Hall and his bat-crap crazy wife Vickie who keeps JCH’s testicles in a mason jar in their backyard, ‘The Legend’ Rob Williams, Kenny Freeman, Arthur Pleasant, Kerry Kuroyama, and Max Kael- who tales and escapades Adam had heard all about when he worked in Chicago.

*CLANG*

But Adam would not be fighting them alone.  No, he would be fighting them as one part of a team led by the new Universal Champion Jared Sykes, Tsonda, Colton, Dabney Doubleday, Brandon Youngblood, and The Anglo Luchador.  Working together, they would face the Halls and Ivan’s cabal of miscreants.

*CLANG*

Adam would be fighting back with them, standing up to a pack of bullies who’d run roughshod over PRIME for too long.

*CLANG*

And he would be ready to go.  With each rep…

*CLANG*

…Adam crafted his own narrative… the Midwest kid with a strong work ethic, steeling himself for the battle to come at Culture Shock.

He vowed to be ready for the big War Games match.  He vowed that he would not let his team down.

At Culture Shock, Adam vowed he would fight back against the Jake Fosters of the wrestling world.

*CLANG*

Missouri Valley Wrestling majority owner Ray McAvay peeked his head in. McAvay wasn't surprised by the dedication and drive in Ellis, watching he furiously worked on the weight machine with a ferocity he hadn’t seen from him since… well, the day after last year’s Culture Shock debacle where Tyler Rayne, Paxton Ray, Scott Douglas, Sage Pontiff, Tristin Crispen-Gladhappy, Cecilworth Farthington, Mortimer Knightengale, Ned Reform, Mushigihara, Matt Ward and Rocky DeLeon all took turns beating Adam into a pulp during the battle royal match.

*CLANG*

Ellis doesn't even register his presence until McAvay finally broke the silence with a casual…

"Dude, what's up?"

*CLANG*

Startled, Ellis jumped and nearly toppled off the bench.  "Damn it, Ray!" he exclaimed, trying to regain his composure. His chest heaved from the rigorous workout and sweat glistened on his brow.

McAvay couldn't help but smile at Ellis' reaction and attempted to lighten the mood. "You gotta take it easy on the equipment," he chided Adam playfully.

Adam sat up and caught his breath. He remembered Ray saying the exact same thing last year after Culture Shock.

“Sorry, Ray.” Inside, Adam vowed that he would not let himself down. At Culture Shock, Adam vowed he would fight for himself.

**** "Here's to the years of all the hell raising, stupid shit that we've done. Here's to the beers we already drank and cheers to the beers to come... that's right!" The crackling of the fire served as a backdrop to the raucous laughter intermingling with the twanging guitars blaring out of the stereo as Garrett Biggs' "Cheers to the Beers" set the soundtrack for a night of camaraderie.

Adam Ellis reclined in a weathered lawn chair with a cold beer gripped firmly in his hand next to his old high school buddies, Mike McWilliams, Charlie Kennedy, and A.J. Phelps.

The moonlight above cast an eerie glow, reflecting off the scattered remnants strewn across the dewy grass of Vickie Hall's once alluring PRETTY PINK© fuzzy handcuffs Ginny blew to smithereens two weeks ago with her shotgun.

"Here's to the good times," Mike bellowed, lifting his bottle with a grin that was all showmanship, mirroring the bravado they saw on PRIME Wrestling broadcasts.

As the men clinked their bottles together in a salute to an enduring friendship, the cabin door creaked open, and Ginny Van Lear emerged, her fiery red hair reflecting the fire's glow like embers brought to life. She moved cautiously forward with the stealth of a prowler at ringside, her pregnant figure slipping up behind Adam, wrapping her arms around the small-town Midwest giant with an affectionate squeeze that belied her potent demeanor.

"Adam.”

“Yeah, Gin.”

“I dunno, I felt a somethin' flutterin' inside me," Ginny told him.

“Oh.”

There were tears in her eyes. "Reckon that was the baby movin' for the first time."

He gently placed a hand on her growing belly, feeling a sense of awe at the tiny life inside. "That's amazing," he whispered, pulling her even closer. "We created this."

As they smiled and soaked in the warmth of this beautiful moment, Adam couldn't help but be grateful that Ginny was the complete opposite of Vickie Hall. She wasn't a toxic hot mess. She wasn’t a psychotic, gas-lighting, narcissistic succubus spawned from the depths of hell. Ginny was a kind soul and they had a relationship built on respect and mutual love… Ginny and Adam were a true team… not the plastic, phony bullshit Hallmark facade Vickie and JCH tried to sell everyone on… well… at least until the end of ReVival 45.

“Congratulations!” shouted Mike McWilliams as he tossed the last of Ivan Stanislav’s propaganda posters into the roaring fire.

Adam's friends lifted their beers in celebration, while Ginny held a tall glass of water, mirroring their toast with one of her own.

“To good friends, Adam said, putting his arm around Ginny.  “And to my wife.”

The crackling fire added punctuation to the scene as everyone settled in for an evening free from any fights or struggles except those found in stories and laughter under a starry sky and the familiar tune of a country anthem.

It was a picture-perfect moment, frozen in time like a highlight reel. A tableau of solidarity and shared dreams.

Adam turned to his pregnant wife and smiled.

She is who I fight for… and always will.