Where would I be without the consistent failure of achievement.

Never quite ready for that step up in the world.

You know, unless it’s against a retired crumb.

The handshake was nice. 

I know everyone wants to pour cold water over whatever relationship I have with Glue. The obsession of belonging is normally not something I emote. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t scrape at my brain. That childish voice reminding me that it has shared and given me my memories back.

Not one was me playing catch with another kid.

Not one was me playing video games with another kid.

Lots of doubt.

Lots of anxiety.

Lots of getting used to being ignored.

Don’t shed tears for the sheltered tiny rich kid who had boring tutors as soon as he spoke his first word.

Nah let’s celebrate that time when SHE turned on the TV and pointed out who JD Lawson was and that he was an amazing wrestler. Of course, all these years later I have a different perspective on what occurred on the first day that I fell in love with wrestling.

I know that what I do for The Octopus is another way of forgetting my other troubles. I will travel around the country to find what I am looking for, but I won’t ever truly be satisfied. Heh, I can’t even properly form a picture of what I want. When I begin to try to put the

pieces together the Five Star Championship begins to flash in my mind.

It smiles at me.

It beckons me to save it, as it rots away inside a den of snakes.

The chemistry on discovering the vaccine I will require to finally survive one of their bites is in process.

It contains a lot of pettiness, a lot of bile, and a lot of rage.

Let’s call it claybyrdeza.

I am going to decimate your arrogant plans because I see you slithering in the grass and will meet you with an enlightened machete towards your neck.

--

August 14th.

The Meet Up.

I don’t even have a place to live anymore.

I just travel from hotel to hotel or God forbid I stay at Octopus headquarters. It is not my favorite environment because SHE is always around a corner, always listening, always planning something but never explaining the endgame.

“She has her reasons.”

That is what Doc loves to say with a twinkle in his lovesick eyes.

What the hell does he see in her?

The fifth time he said that during our car ride I zoned him out, closed my eyes, and daydreamed about Ellis Jackson being caught and Rebecca opening her eyes.

“We're jammin' I wanna jam it wid you We're jammin', jammin', And I hope you like jammin', too”

The singing was echoing inside the Hotel gym as I slowly followed Doc into the nearly empty workout center. I shook my head as I attempted to clear my mind of the cobwebs that had formed while I was ignoring Doc. What I was hearing was not a surprise but where it was occurring was absurd to me.

A gym?

Him?

There he was: Jack Marley doing bicep curl reps with his earbuds in, belting out Bob Marley like we were at a Reggae concert. He looked up and smiled when he saw us. The music was   muted, and he walked over and began to pretend he was giving me body shots with some extremely slow right and left hands.

I grabbed his right arm and stared down at him, “what the fuck are you doing?”

“Getting yoked, boss!” He preceded to flex his arms towards me like I was supposed to be impressed by soggy noodles.

I turned to Doc, “did you order the worst ramen ever?”

Jack frowned and began to pout at that comment. Doc chuckled softly but tried to hide it behind his hand to not make the clownfish feel bad. “I am doing this for YOU, mon. I know you need a better work out partner since JD ran circles around you and then the Lizard King made you tap out.”

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Here comes a brand-new blackout anger in your ear.

“I WAS KIDDING.”

Kiddddddinggggggg

“That’s enough, Steve, let him go!”

I finally blinked.

I was on top of Jack holding a weight bar down on his throat. Tears were streaming down his blue tainted face. I picked the bar off him and turned and walked away as I tried to comprehend what I had just done. What followed was minutes of Jack heavy breathing as I no longer was choking the Haile Selassie out of his body.

The ringing in my ears had ceased.

I stood staring at my hands. They were white knuckled from the pressure I had put down on the bar. The fact they were not shaking was confusing me. I knew that I had to apologize for what just happened. My ego did not want to but to continue to lead these people I had to at least admit some fault in what just happened.

I sighed and turned,

Was Jack smiling?

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes.

I opened my eyes. He was now bent over holding his mouth as he let out a few coughs. Doc gave him a pat on the back and motioned me to say something. “My bad.” Doc gave me a look that told me that wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

Jack looked up and gave me a weak thumbs up. “It’s ok (cough) I know you are under a lot of stress, mon.”

I shrugged my shoulders and began to chuckle as I shook my head. What a goddamn mess. No, maybe I was the chaotic entity that had become so large it was interrupting everything else.

Doc turned and gave me a concerned look, “are you ok?”

I walked over and put one around Doc and one arm around Jack, “as always,” I laughed, “EVERYTHING. IS. FINE.”

--

Scott Hunter.

I am not sure how I feel about you. You seem like a lovely ignorant fella that gives Kerry some personality. That is commendable…I guess.

You troll.

You joke.

You intensify when you see the color red.

I am not foolish to see just that. I see you wrestling on a completely different level than when I first joined PRIME.

You are also a member of…

…Vae Victihissssssss. You are the hidden snake.  

That is what you are, Scott. You lay around the short grass making jokes, but I know that you will strike when a back is turned. You, like your playmates…

…The malicious gatekeepers. …The place where people are given everything…  

…Always use their unearned power to gloat over us.

We, that work for the betterment of the wrestling industry. Not just whatever, Lindsay Troy decides she is ok with on that date of the month.

  Me, that wants to bust you open and rub orange slices over your cuts. Oh, are you allergic?  

I cannot stand the people you associate with. You hypocritical conceited people, who try to lord over the TRUTH on others. If it isn’t the truth, it is the high road. None of them have ever made a mistake before or had to get their hands dirty.

I would gladly dirty my hands if I could clean you off the roster.

Maybe, I am too emotionally invested in this.

Maybe, I am taking this too personally.

Maybe, EVERYTHING IS FINE!  

It isn’t though, is it?

Heh.

Ugh.

--

August 14th.

The Turning of the Screw

After I had calmed down, I remembered that the whole reason we met Jack was because he had set up a meeting with the person who created the lockbox that Rebecca had given me. The supposed bomb inside was not the first thing to be worried about though. The person to be worried about had the box and probably the information we had finally followed up on.

Ellis Jackson: I just can’t quit this sea roach.

More like I was obsessed with finding him.

If I wasn’t thinking about wrestling, I would see his face in my mind punching my gut repeatedly until I was on the floor in the fetus position. It only felt right considering he had stayed many steps ahead of me and when thoughts of him gave me stomach ulcers.

Doc is here to make sure I am healthy because I guess it isn’t normal TO HAVE AN ANXIETY ATTACK AND PASS OUT WHEN THE WOMAN YOU LOVE HAS GONE MISSING FROM A HOSPITAL.

At least it happened at a hospital.

Yay.

Simple wins.

Don’t worry everyone because even if you have now lost everything at least you did in front of competent professionals.

My eyes hurt from rolling them more times than an idiot popping pills at an EDM festival.

I hated this silence.

I also hated talking to Doc and Jack right now.

I obviously didn’t have many options here, as Doc followed Jacks directions into the coal poisoned hills of West Virginia. This was our next step in ending the new drama that has surrounded me since The Octopus brought me into the family at the beginning of 2025.

I was born under a star that must have been imploding the second I took my first breath.

The view from my car seat was beautiful though. I wasn’t sure how far away from civilization we were headed but I could imagine someone in this person’s line of work would live in privacy.

It was quite the romantic word to me these days: privacy.

Unfortunately, I am not sure when I will ever have that again. Instead, I tried to brace myself for whatever type of reaction we were about to receive.

I would do anything for information.

I would beg.

I would plead.

“Almost there, mon,” Jack said to Doc. He then gave me a thumbs up and nodded something akin to reassurance, but I swear I saw his eyes dilate more by the word.

He was clean, right?

People pleasers do people pleaser things I thought to myself as I nodded back to him. “Have you been here, Jack?”

Jack paused and blinked a few times like he was restarting his brain, “Uh I did a little spying mon but I never got closer than a football field, brotato.” He pointed to his head, “I gots some good smarts in hurr.”

It was my time to blink.

A lot.

His big-brained comment almost reset my thought process. It did enough for me to overlook him overthinking an easy question. We are all under a lot of stress, right? It almost looked like he was trying to flex his brain as he smiled goofily at me.

Ever so slowly the wheels started turning.

What if?  

I laughed deafeningly. It almost felt like it was deep and loud enough to crack the ground the car drove over. What a ridiculous thought and not one I wanted to give any time to.

“We’re here!”

The energy inside the car drastically shifted because none of us were used to having an appointment when we deal with these underground ‘specialists.’ Jack was the first to jump out of the car, “no reason to sneak around now,” he gleefully said as he played the car doors like a drum as he darted around it.

‘This is my life,’ I muttered softly as I walked out of the car like an old man with two bad knees and hips.

Jack knocked on the door.

He called the pager number again.

No answers and no replies.

I grabbed the doorknob, and it began to turn. I stopped and then looked back at Jack, “how many days since you pretended to be James Bond?”

He stared at me with blank eyes and shrugged.

I sighed and purposely opened the door slowly. I had no idea what I was about to enter myself into. Jack was so close to my back you would think he had glued himself to me.

The sunlight slithered into the room in search of every corner of darkness it could consume. I took another step, and some dust popped up into the air. The light made it seem like the dust was dancing in conjunction with every step one of us took. It seemed that nobody had been here in at least a week, which made me peer confusingly at Jack.

“When did you set this up?”

Jack began to count on his fingers as I began to follow the sunlight to another room. I got sick of waiting and before I entered what looked like it was the kitchen I turned to Jack. “How many fingers do you have?”

Still looking at his fingers Jack walked past me. He turned to me, his face as pale as the seasoning Scott Hunter uses on his food. “It’s all red.”

“Look you clownfish, stop playing games,” I took a step forward and followed his eyes inside the kitchen. R E D

Oh, the bombmaker was a female.

Oh, a knife was sticking out of her back.

The blood was dry.

Then the smell hit.

--

Red

rEd

reD

Red rEd reD   Red rEd reD RED

I don’t want to get used to this, Scott.

I now understand how you must feel, seeing red everywhere you look. It is beyond aggravating.

How do you break someone down to build them back up?

Do you use the same parts? Nah. Do you use the same emotional intelligence?

  Of course not.  

The whole point is that you are not the same person for those holding the mental scalpel to the base of your head. Even though you can feel it happening there isn’t anything you can do to stop it. You are trapped in an endless cycle of excitement in dread.

Until you no longer feel either.

That’s the end game. Reminiscent on creating a trustworthy soldier, they want to be able to control you. The easiest way to do it is to make them rely on you.

Family.  

Give it a label that holds meaning.

You can’t go against the family.

SHE is in charge.  

You would think a mother would care how you feel after finding a murdered corpse.

Heh, sure.  

There is always a next step.

Forget about that, she wasn’t family.

SHE makes you feel silly about seeing RED in every liquid you come across.

You are a man?

Make you feel dumb.

Make you feel different.

Heh-heh.

Do you hate yourself? The failure. The doubt. The questions that just become more questions.   I can’t help but begin to believe it all, Scott. I am starting to think that your blood staining the mat isn’t something that could happen… …No, it is something that must happen.  

I don’t care anymore. It is your fault for associating with the serpents.

Always blame the adversary.  

What I do to you is because the evil that permeates off every phony joke you make is suffocating the TRUTH from being exposed.

The truth is RED RED RED RED.  

The future that Vae Victis has is fraught in blood.

I won’t look away.

I will hold the jolf putter that delivers the finishing blow to your hopes, your dreams, and your future.

I guess the pressure works, Scott. I don’t have anyone else in my life. I have fought hard to try to find a small corner in the world for those I hold dear to. Yet even that has been used against me.  It’s used as a gun, aggressively bruising my temple, so I just sit there and accept whatever garbage happens around me.

Jack dragged me out of that darkened dusty cabin.

The smell stuck to every piece of clothing I had.

He stared up into my eyes and held both of my shoulders and said:

“She means nothing, mon.”   He was right, Scott.

This dead woman meant absolutely nothing to me. She was someone I had planned on using on finding Ellis and the secret behind the lockbox she created for Rebecca.

You mean nothing to me, Mr. Hunter.

“The Marine Biologist has requested we come back next week.”

They make it so you have no time to rest too.

I will make it, so you have no time to rest before our match, Scott. I want you to think about what I will do to beat you. I then want you to think about how your fellow cold-blooded allies will look at you after I am done squeezing every drop of THE RED from your body.

  The farther I slip. The less, I think. The more I defer. I don’t think I can accept that.

--

August 30th, 2025.

A Celebration of Life

“So…is it someone’s birthday?” I stood there pointing at the sign that hung outside the front door.

Jack Marley and Doc stared incredulously at me when I stepped out of the car onto Octopus HQ pavement.

“It is her birthday, but I heard there is even a bigger surprise that will strengthen the family,” Doc commented like a man who is so in love he doesn’t see the many red flags jabbing him in both eyes.

Love makes you blind, eh?

I rolled my eyes, “you mean The Octopus?”

Jack nodded. His enthusiasm has been a tad manic recently, but I played it no mind since he has always been an oddball one way or another.

He got mere feet from the door when it opened. He stopped in his tracks as the sour disposition of Clarice could drain someone of their soul.

“Cute,” is all it took for her to leave us mute.

“Now, now, Clarice. Oh, now look at all MY handsome boys.” There she was: The birthday woman, my mom, The Marine Biologist…The Matriarch of The Octopus. It was strange seeing a genuine smile on her face but then again, she was probably fanatical over everyone obsessing over her special day.

How that is different than any other day that ends in Y, who knows.

Clarice gave her a little curtsy and then looked at all of us, “hurry now, we don’t want to let the A/C escape.”

The child like enthusiasm had come back to Jack, “I needs me that Cake and Ice Cream,” he ran up and gave HER a quick hug and disappeared.

After Doc and her exchanged a peculiar kiss, I brushed past Clarice and loomed large above my MOTHER as I looked at her. She smiled, “I hope Jack likes Ice Cream Cake.”

Pfft, like she didn’t know that he loved it.

But those are the first words she said to me after everything I had been through?

Ahem, everything she directed me to do.  

That’s right.

As always though none of those thoughts were spoken. Instead, I gave her a smile, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was your birthday, so I don’t have any gifts.”

Without warning she moved in and gave me a hug. It was very awkward and my reaction to I it by leaving my arms limp on my sides and my eyes and mouth opening in junction was probably part of it. “You being here is the greatest gift I could hope for,” she ended the hug and beckoned for me to follow her.

I trailed behind, nodding along with whatever Doc was mumbling about as he spoke with her. She stopped in front of a door that was locked from the outside with a padlock. She pulled out a key and handed it to me.

“This is for you, son.”

I observed the key in my hand and as always was completely put into an uncomfortable zone. “I am not sure what this is about, and I don’t want to ruin your party, but do you understand what I,” I pointed at Doc, “what WE have been through recently? If this key doesn’t open a wardrobe that sends me to another land where Ellis has already been caught by a Jesus Lion, then I don’t know what this could possibly be for.”

She sighed, “I forgot I let the help read C.S. Lewis to you when you were young. On my special day I have decided to give my little jellyfish a magnificent present.”

I shrugged.

I placed the key into the lock and opened the door.

REDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

“He is so overjoyed he can’t talk,” Doc said as he gave MOTHER a kiss on the cheek.

She smiled at me. Her fangs were showing now, “you didn’t think we would leave her out in the open, did you? Rebecca is family and now WE will look after her.”

I couldn’t move or talk but felt HER hand grasp mine but then leave with the key in her hand, “I should probably hold on to this.”

“Happy Birthday, love!”

It’s all gone.  

--

Do not blame me for what happens to you, Scott.