Help Me Through The Night

Lots of people say “I need a vacation after my vacation.”

Nate Colton found himself in the rare position of needing a vacation before his vacation.

The days after ReV45 had been a whirlwind of activity, highlighted by sightseeing with Kohime, a little mild kidnapping and assault (as a treat), then helping Tom Battaglia with some…questionably legal family matters.

Small wonder that the days between then and his flight to Wales would be spent in Evansville. He knew full well that the tour would feel like living in a fishbowl, so before he could go away, he needed to be away.

The Colton Academy was as good a place as any to hide from the world. It was no TCS, but it did the job–he could stay in shape, hone his skills, and be close to family. Everything about the place felt right, even the weird smell.

So why don’t I feel right?

The Next Diamond had been disconnected all day. His body lifted weights, sparred, and swept the floors on autopilot while his thoughts swirled around like dark clouds gathering into a funnel.

“Something on your mind, son?”

Nate snapped back into reality at his father’s question. He looked around, as if only just realizing where he was. “Where is everyone?”

“Students left about an hour ago,” Jake answered. “I’d have said something earlier, but you were doing a great job with that broom. Floor hasn’t been this clean in years.”

“Heh. Nah, I just…got a lot on my mind, I guess.” Nate leaned on his broom and inspected the pile of dirt in front of it.

“I don’t doubt it. Are you sure you’re all right? That SHOOT thing, we couldn’t even watch–”

“I’m fine,” Nate said, idly tracing one of the lines of stitches on his face. “Looked worse than it was.”

“It looked pretty fuckin’ bad.”

“Stitches will be out before Culture Shock, and the lads will make sure that prick gets his.”

“That’s for sure. Benny’s been cussin’ up a storm about it all week.”

The young man nodded, and his father said something else but Nate was already tuning it out. The clouds were gathering once more…

Jake broke the spell again. “You know what we haven’t done in forever?” he asked, barely waiting before answering his own question. “Movie Night.”

Nate rolled the idea around in his head…and sure enough, it helped to drive the clouds away. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“All right. You finish up out here; I’ll call your brother and sister and see if they’re free.”

“Perfect.” Nate grabbed a dustpan and finished his duties, while Jake headed to the office.

“Movie Night” was yet another longstanding tradition with the Coltons; they’d sit down together and watch some of their father’s matches. At first it was just for pure entertainment, but as they got older the Colton kids would study the tapes and bring those lessons into their own style. It also allowed Jake to relive his glory days without trying to live in the past, like so many old dogs did.

After putting away the broom Nate went to the office, where his father stood in front of the room’s newest feature: a large media cabinet that had occupied the den in the house until Mallory decided otherwise. Now it sat by Jake’s filing cabinet, its shelves full of clamshells and paper sleeves and jewel cases–the video evidence of a long and storied career. If a Jake Colton match had been recorded, it was probably in here somewhere.

It also held the air popper that Jake had stolen from the house, because one key to a lasting marriage is tiny acts of rebellion.

“So what’s the pick, Nate? Maybe something from my own Europe tour? Might get you more excited about yours.”

“Doubt it,” the Next Diamond muttered.

“Really? I thought you’d be pumped for this. You sure had a great time in Japan.”

“Yeah, well. Two weeks of wrestling is bound to be a lot more fun than three months of bullshit.”

“What about the bicycle?”

“Don’t talk to me about the bicycle.”

The old man chuckled, which did nothing to help his son’s mood.

“Am I wrong?” he snapped. “The Bang! tour was incredible. Those fights, especially the one with Merci–that’s why I signed with PRIME in the first place. Instead I get night after night of people committing actual goddamn crimes, and then I get treated like shit for complaining.”

“So this is about that talk with the boss.”

“I’m not out of line, right?” Nate continued. “Or am I the asshole for expecting security to actually do their jobs?”

“No, I don’t think you’re wrong. But I don’t think she is, either. You gotta remember, she spent her whole career in messes worse than this, and she had to take matters into her own hands ‘cause that’s the only way shit was gonna get done.”

“If she wanted a vigilante, she shoulda fuckin’ hired Batman.”

Jake let out a slow breath as he turned toward his desk. “New plan.” Taking his keys, he crouched down and unlocked the lowest drawer on the right side. The one that had been locked for as long as Nate could remember.

It was mostly filled with old paperwork that Jake had saved for reasons long since forgotten. But there were also a few unmarked cassettes in there. He grabbed one, turning it over in his hands as if he could feel what was on it. He set it back down and grabbed another. That proved to be the correct choice, and he stood back up with a chorus of groans and cracks.

“I’ve never watched this one,” Jake said as he handed the tape to his son.

“Wow,” Nate whispered, and inspected it. It felt like a perfectly ordinary VHS tape.

But…heavier, somehow.

They didn’t just watch their dad’s highlights on Movie Night. They’d seen him get pummeled by Jerry Gallows, embarrassed by Colt Smith, and outclassed by The Pharaoh II. They watched him get beat down by the Millenium Militia and pinned in ten seconds.

What the hell could this be?

# # #

Jennifer arrived, with her boyfriend (it was official now) Trece Vickers in tow. The Academy graduate had impressed himself upon the family with his work ethic and positive attitude, but mostly because Jenny actually kept him around. Nate’s sister had been in relationships, but they were almost never serious.

If Nate hadn’t already been won over, the rack of Bud Light Trece brought probably would have done it.

“Trece! Good to see you!” he said as they shook hands. “You too, Jen. I guess.”

Jenny smiled at her brother’s snark. “Oh my God, what happened to your face?” she asked as she went in for a hug.

Nate shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just a little souvenir from my guest spot on SHOOT last week.”

“No, I mean in general. You’re hella ugly, bro.”

“Oh, you little shit,” Nate grumbled, and quickly turned the hug into a headlock. “You got too much sass in you, Jen. Only one way to get it out!” He rubbed the knuckles off his free hand against his sleeve, shining them up for the noogie that was to come.

“Babe! Help!” she squealed, but Trece stepped back, dead set on staying out of this one.

“Nah, I got a little sister. Respect the big bro code.”

“You are in such deep shiiiiaaaaaaaahhh!” Jenny shoved hard against Nate’s back, allowing her to escape the classic bullying maneuver.

Blake came through the door and sidestepped the chaos so quickly and quietly that Nate almost didn’t notice. “Little bro! You made it!”

“Yeah. Sorry I’m late. Did I miss anything?”

“Nah, the curtain’s about to go up.”

They reconvened in Jake’s office, where they all sat down after another round of hugs. Popcorn was served, beers were passed out, and seats were claimed. Jake Colton handed the remote to his youngest before putting the tape into the machine.

“When you see me take my jacket off, I need you to mute the TV. OK, buddy?”

“You’re not wearing your jacket,” Blake said, giggling a little.

Jake rolled his eyes. “On screen, ya goof.” He pressed Play, then took his own seat.

The antique device whirred to life, and the screen flickered blue. A few seconds of static, then some scrambled video while the autotracker adjusted, and finally a grainy picture of a wrestling ring, accompanied by poorly recorded announcing.

“Dad, you really need to convert these to digital,” Blake said. “They won’t degrade as fast and then you can get rid of that big cabinet.”

“Then where will I hide the popcorn?” Jake replied. The sound cleared up a little, and the strains of “Outlaw Man” came through the tinny speakers, bringing a smile to all the kids’ faces…but not to their father’s.

“So this would have been…spring of ‘98. I was just starting to get back on track after…well, after a bunch of bullshit. Doesn’t matter. Got a call from this booker out of Milwaukee, says he’s got a new kid he wants to showcase. And I say all right, ‘cause that beat the hell out of watching them try to coax the Green Bay Hacker out of retirement.”

Nate watched his father attentively; he’d never told this story before. Blake scooped a big handful of popcorn and tried shoving the whole thing into his mouth at once. Kernels spilled onto the floor; Jenny nudged him in the shoulder, causing him to drop more.

“You’re cleaning that up, squirt,” she said. Blake rolled his eyes–the only response he could make, since his mouth and middle fingers were otherwise occupied.

Somehow in all of this, nobody was really paying attention to the screen, where Past Jake Colton finished his warmups and removed his jacket.

“Who was it? What was he like?” Nate asked.

Jake shook his head sadly. “He didn’t hang out with the boys…kinda felt like he was already big-timing them. He demanded his own room and the booker caved ‘cause turn it off turn it off TURN IT OFF–”

The old man clamped his hands over his ears right as the first notes came from the TV. Blake tried to use the remote, but between the sudden outburst and the butter on his hands, he couldn’t hold on and it clattered to the floor.

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PLEASE–”

“I see a bad…”

Blake finally found the mute button and stopped the offending music. Nate and Jennifer swarmed their father, wrapping their arms around him from either side.

“It’s okay, Dad,” Jenny whispered in his ear. “You’re okay.”

“We love you, Dad,” Blake said as he joined in on the embrace. They all held on until the terror that had claimed their father finally released him.

Nate spared an eye for the screen, hoping to view the monster for himself.

What could make Dad react like this? And what kind of asshole would use that for his walkout music?

…

Oh.

He knew who that was.

In wrestling as in real life, history repeats. There is always a Brandon Youngblood, a Hayes Hanlon, a Nate Colton…and there is always a self-serving bastard who wants to gather all the toys, just to break them.

In 2011, his name was Devin Shakur.

In 2002, it was Ben Van Iten.

This was the proto-version, before he was one of the most dominant wrestlers in the world. But even through the archaic equipment and twenty-six years, the image showed signs of the man he would become. He was handsome, athletic, undeniably charismatic…and absolutely empty.

Not like a cardboard box or a beer can. He was empty like a black hole. Like his sole purpose was to draw everything that made you special into himself and crush it to dust, in the hopes that it might fill the void in his own soul. But it never would.

It never did.

Just as Van Iten entered the ring on screen, Jake lowered his hands and opened his eyes. The panic on his face was quickly replaced by shame. “I…didn’t want you to see that.”

The kids let go of their father, but stuck close in case he needed them again.

“You’re all right,” Nate said. “We know how you feel about…that song. We don’t have to watch anymore if–”

“No…I think it’s important that you see it. I just…I’m sorry. I need some air.”

“Do you want–” Blake started, but Jake cut him off with a raised hand.

“I’ll be okay. Just watch.”

Jake shuffled out of the office, his shoulders slumped. The others watched him go, until he shut the door behind him.

“Well,” Nate said, after an awkward length of time. “I guess we watch.” Blake nodded in agreement, and turned the volume back on.

They sat in uncomfortable silence as they watched the match unfold. To the untrained eye, it looked like an even matchup–Van Iten’s youth and proficiency countered by Colton’s fortitude and experience.

Nate knew better. He’d been watching his father wrestle his whole life, and had seen just about every match three different ways: as a son, a fan, and a student. He knew when something was wrong, and there was a lot wrong in this match.

“He’s shuffling his feet too much,” Blake whispered. “You see that? He’s not trying to establish his base; he’s just…”

“...retreating,” Jennifer finished.

The puzzle in Nate’s mind completed itself. He’d seen Jake face impossible odds, colossal monsters, grave threats that would send most people running and screaming. Win or lose, he faced every challenge with the same look of determination.

This was the first time he’d ever seen his father fight scared.

The match went on for another ten minutes, until Van Iten trapped Colton in a Boston Crab. Jake reached the ropes, but Van Iten refused to let go and got disqualified. While his opponent argued with, then knocked out, the referee, Jake Colton pulled himself out of the ring and slunk back up the ramp, like a dog with its tail between its legs.

# # #

Nate caught up with his father behind the building, where he was leaning against the wall and staring out into the parking lot.

“Thought you might need one of these,” he said, and pulled a fresh beer from the pocket of his hoodie. Jake cracked it open, nodded his thanks, and drank it all in one go. He threw the can vaguely toward the dumpster, but the wind caught it and blew it off to the side.

Nate smirked a little and brought out two more beers. He handed one to Jake, then opened the other himself. “I can see why you keep that one locked up,” he said before taking a sip.

“When I came up, even the biggest sons of bitches cared about the business. Jackie Drummond, Max Disaster, the Baron…they’d do everything they could to rig the game in their favor, but they wouldn’t flip the table. ‘Cause that meant the game was over. But when I looked him in the eyes, I knew the kind of man he was. Absolutely willing to burn the world down just so he could stand on its ashes.”

“That’s pretty much what he did, wasn’t it?”

“Yep. Made his bones, bought up the whole Council, and ran it straight into the ground on purpose. Don’t think anyone saw him again.”

“Left the pieces for gutter trash like Pierce and Connors.”

“Thousands of jobs, just…gone. Because he could.” He shook his head. “There’s a lot of reasons I never made it to the top, but that match is one of the big ones. I saw the future that night, Nathan…and it scared the absolute piss out of me.”

Nate laid a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I bet you weren’t the last. Wonder how I’ll handle being in the ring with a guy like that.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” For the first time since hearing the most forbidden of forbidden songs, Jake was back in the moment. “Nate…you already have.”

“...what?”

“I’m serious. Some of your opponents make him look like a kitten. You think they wouldn’t wipe PRIME from the map for a good reason…or a bad one? Or none at all? And I bet you never gave a single thought to not taking the fight.”

“Well, no, but–”

“Just like you’re not sure if you want to stay in PRIME, but you’ll still go to Culture Shock and get in that cage with a bunch of maniacs and maybe five actual wrestlers. You’ll be there, because they sounded the call and you’ll be damned if you don’t answer it. Right?”

“Of course,” Nate replied, almost offended at the question.

“This other shit, the stuff you're hot about…I know it shouldn't be your fight. But it's still got to be fought, whether you're a part of it or not. You can be pissed at Troy, but she did her part longer than anyone should have to. She's got different battles now.”

“So you're asking me to step up.”

“I know you better than that, Nathan. I don't have to ask.”

“I know you look at PRIME and you see how much better it can be. Try and see it through her eyes, or anyone else who's been around…and you’ll see how much better it’s become. If you wanna keep that going…”

Jake trailed off, and both men stood in silence. Nate felt his thoughts rolling around again, but now they were coalescing around his father's words instead of his own frustrations.

Maybe I don't need PRIME…but Adam does. Dabney, too. They haven't made their names yet; they need the shine.

Chandler…he needs a place to shine. Like he said in Providence, it's PRIME or nothing.

Jared, Brandon, Tom…they've been on the front lines this whole time. They gotta be so tired…how many more hits can they take?

So many others…RIA, Swanny, Dawkins, the boss…they need PRIME.

And PRIME needs me. ‘Cause if this shit is ever going to get better, someone will have to show them how.

There it is, then. I can't be the Next anymore.

I have to be the New.

“Something on your mind, son?” Jake asked.

Nate looked up, past the power lines and trees and light pollution, where a few stars twinkled bravely in the night.

“Just remembering…one time when Blake left one of his comic books at the table. I started flipping through it; it had superheroes, but nobody I’d heard of. Did have a talking dog, though.”

“What kind of dog?”

“Doberman, I think. Anyway, I couldn’t really follow the story but there was this one part that caught my attention. There was this huge alien and a regular guy, and they’d been in some accident that was gonna kill them both.”

“Uh huh,” said Jake, who long ago stopped trying to make sense of Blake's comics, but still tried to follow along.

“It’s taking a while and they can’t move, so they get to talking. Turns out the alien is part of this huge game that covers the whole universe…and the sky and stars and planets and everything, that’s the board they’re playing on, and the game itself is...well, it's light and darkness, right?"

Jake followed his son's gaze, and they both focused on the twinkling lights. For a second it looked like a new one had joined the others, but it turned out to be a jet. Nate felt a twinge of disappointment, but continued.

“So the guy looks up at the sky and asks if they were losing the game, ‘cause there’s so much darkness, and only a few little specks of light.”

“What did he say? The big alien guy.”

“He said ‘No, we’re winning. It used to be all dark.’”

The old man got an odd little smile on his face. “I like that.” He finished his beer, then crushed the can and dropped it; it bounced off the lip of the sand bucket and clattered on the asphalt. “I'm gonna head back in. Unless you got any more beers in that magic pocket.”

“Fresh out. I'll be in as soon as I clean up out here. Some prick’s been throwing his empties on the ground.”

“Ha!” Jake slapped his son on the shoulder and went inside, leaving Nate alone with the stars.

He kept staring at them, the isolated, distant defenders against oblivion.

There we are, he thought. Keep shining, as long as you can. Maybe we'll get some help before we burn out.

Soon he'd go back to Movie Night; Blake had already picked the next feature. “8/14/01 Reno - Colton/Talamantez/Clark/Lee vs Barkley Brothers.”

It was everything Nate wanted from a match. Dad and his best friends, hard-hitting action…and best of all, the good guys won.

Maybe someday, they will again.