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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Drama · #2107898
This piece was written as part of a larger storyline within a fictional wrestling fed.
This piece was written as part of a larger storyline within a fictional online wrestling federation.



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Sometimes in life we make our own breaks – we’re productive, and actively strive for what we’re trying to achieve. At other times, we’re content to just go through the motions, and let life take its course, leaving our fate out of our hands. And yet sometimes, we don’t have a choice; our hand is forced, and we are pushed into action, often against our will.

Emotion – that seems to be the deciding factor in all of this. When we feel strongly about something, really become emotionally involved, we often have little control over our thoughts, feelings and actions. Those intelligent enough to exploit and influence human emotion can often find themselves in a position of extreme power, with the individual that they are exploiting almost under a spell, and able to be manipulated at will. I’ve always been more susceptible to this psychological warfare than others… but it’s better than not giving a damn about anyone or anything…… right…?

This past week against Ataxia, emotions weren’t an issue. I was able to switch off, as it were, and focus on the matter at hand. No reasons to deviate from the plan, just get on with things and get the job done against my opponent. I could make sure that nothing would stop me from getting to the next round against my old Demons partner, Danny B. This match, I knew, would certainly be very different from my quarter-final clash with Ataxia. Danny was a master at psychological warfare and finding the weaknesses inside the psyche of his opponents and using them to his advantage. I’d been on the wrong end of Danny’s mind games too many times in the past, and I was determined not to let that hamper my quest for glory this time around… I was quietly confident that I could win this battle of psychological warfare, and in doing so, win the war as well.


We go back to last Tuesday night, back in Philly, and I was just packing up and planning a night of celebration/commiseration with “Jumping” Jack King, who was rapidly becoming a favoured companion of mine. Jack certainly had his detractors, and although there was occasionally more than a hint of jealousy on my part toward Old Jack, I enjoyed spending time with him, and could more than relate to his old-school mentality. Jack had unfortunately come up short in his quarter-final match, so I thought that drinks were definitely in order. I also wanted to make sure I had a catch-up with my Dad at some point as well; correspondence had kind of slowed since our meeting a couple of weeks ago, and although I maybe wasn’t quite as in need of his company as I was then, I certainly didn’t want to completely cut off the Father-Son time that had so seldom occurred when I was younger.

Together, Jack and I threw the last remnants of a day’s work into our respective bags, chatting idly. I threw my own bag over my shoulder, and we made our way out of the McCarthy Stadium, Jack continuing to make small talk as we wandered towards the exit,

“So, any plans for the weekend Mitch?”

I puffed out my cheeks and let out a sigh, “Not really to be honest… certainly nothing out of the ordinary. I should really find time to get a bit of training in, make sure this gut doesn’t start protruding from beneath my shirt next week. Oh, and I wanted to have a bit of a catch-up with the family as well. We’ve sort of lost contact of the past few weeks and months, you know how it is…”

Jack’s amusement at my earlier self-deprecation turned instantly sour. I paused for a second, confused, before quickly realising what I’d said. I remembered about Jack’s brother, and his untimely death just a few weeks ago, realising that it was obviously still something of a touchy subject for him.

“Shit… sorry Jack, I wasn’t thinking.” I began awkwardly, “Didn’t mean to drag up a shitty memory like that, I…”

Not for the first time, Jack stopped me in my tracks with an authoritative wave of his hand… always so collected, so calm and composed…

“Think nothing of it Mitch, you weren’t to know. Besides… he’s gone, and I damn sure need to move on. Anyway, it all sounds good.”

We continued onwards in silence, a silence which was more than a little uneasy, before finally exiting the building and into the car park. We went our separate ways at this point, although we’d be meeting up very soon at a nearby bar, and both headed in the direction of our cars. I walked a short way, before noticing a disturbance in the darkness up ahead. Squinting my eyes and peering through the gloom, I eventually noticed Danny B emerge. He was once again alone. This struck me as odd once again, but after his outburst during the show, I chose not to say anything, but instead marvelled at just how happy he looked. Odd, certainly a far cry from The Ripper that I knew so well from our previous trials and tribulations. He looked smart, his wide grin not quite the trademark toothy grin that CWF fans had become so accustomed to. He looked well-presented, dapper, almost as if he was trying to be charming. And fake. Maybe it was because I’d known Danny B for so long, known what he has done and what he is capable of, but I was instantly wary of this apparently ‘all-new’ Danny B, simply because he looked and seemed so unfamiliar.

In any event, Danny didn’t seem to notice any difference in me, and hailed me over to where he was stood, hands in coat pockets, grin still very much visible.

“Hey Mitch! What’s going on?” he greeted me with gusto, which if anything made me even more wary of his motives.

“Danny, good to see you man! Errr… not a lot to be honest, just gonna enjoy a bit of downtime after tonight’s show.”

Danny nodded knowingly, “Cool. Congrats on your win tonight by the way. Thought that could be a bit of a banana skin for you, but you handled it well.”

“Thanks. And ditto! Sets up one heck of a semi-final though, eh?” I smiled back at Danny, who nodded again, and looked to be relishing the prospect.

“Should be an epic! But don’t think I’m gonna go easy on you just because we’re former Tag champs and all that! I want my title back, and I’m gonna go through anyone who stands in my way!”

I smiled wryly at the conviction behind Danny’s light-hearted tone, “Trust me Danny, the feeling is very much mutual. I’ve been passed over for this chance too many times, and I firmly believe that it’s finally my time to shine. I can’t see anything or anybody stopping me from doing so.”

Danny nodded appreciatively, returning my wry smile. A silence stretched between us, in which I tried to decide whether or not I liked this new side to Danny’s character, before Danny spoke once more, sounding less assured this time,

“So, no plans for tonight?”

I passed my right hand through my hair, feeling awkward, “Errm… actually Danny, I was…”

Danny cut me off in mid-flow, “Because, y’know, it’d be great to have a proper catch up. Go out for a few drinks, find out what’s been going on since CWF closed all those months ago. I like to think I’ve changed a bit from the Danny B you knew then, and I’m sure you have too…”

I sighed; I was never very good at letting people down gently, and I had a feeling this would be no different, “Danny, I’d absolutely love to spend a couple of hours chatting with you.” Danny smiled brightly at my words, not sensing where I was going, “But I’m already going out tonight. Jumping Jack and I are going for a few drinks at a local place.”

Danny looked positively crestfallen; I’d never known him like this and tried my utmost to console him,

“But keep hold of the idea Danny because I think you’re right, we do need a catch-up. Maybe sometime later in the week?”

But my words had little effect on Danny, whose expression was growing darker with every passing second. I once again saw the tell-tale flash of red pass over his bright eyes, saw his hand twitch almost involuntarily toward his pocket… the pocket where his favourite ‘toy’ may very well have been holstered…

“No, no it’s fine… don’t worry about it…” he began slowly, “It’s my fault anyway… I didn’t realise that you’d found a new friend” he mumbled the last few words almost inaudibly, uttering the word “friend” with bitterness and malice. I subconsciously stepped forwards half a step towards Danny, but he stopped me in my tracks by looking up and locking eyes with me, the red glint now unmistakable in his normally emerald green eyes. I opened my mouth to speak, but as with Jack just a few moments earlier, I was stopped by Danny’s actions, as he turned away from me, facing back towards the shadows from whence he came.

“I’ll be seeing you around then Mitch…?” he began, the bitterness in his tone now unmistakeable, “Have fun tonight. Make sure nothing spoils your night. Oh, and good luck for next week. I’ll see you in that ring.”

Danny stopped speaking, but stayed standing stock still, still facing away from me. Completely and utterly befuddled, I turned slowly away from Danny and headed back towards my mini-van. I took a few steps forward, before turning back and looking at Danny… he was gone, leaving no trace of his being anywhere in the parking lot. Shaking my head slightly, I hopped into my Impala and started the engine, before making my way out of the stadium parking lot.

My mind was more than occupied on the journey to the jaunt that Jack and I had chosen to drink at. I thought about Danny, thought about his odd change in attitude, and his almost schizophrenic behaviour. I knew what Danny was capable of, both physically and mentally, and had been on the receiving end of every last bit of it. Yet despite this, I felt some semblance of pity for Danny. Before CWF closed down, he’d come across as dominant, ruthless and focused on success. Now? He seemed lonely; despite the front he’d undoubtedly put on in front of the cameras, behind the scenes I saw that Danny had changed, and maybe not necessarily for the better.

I shrugged inwardly; I spose I should be thankful if nothing else, as it might just give me the edge that I might need in our upcoming bout. Mentally fragile though Danny could be, I had no doubt that he was one hell of an in-ring competitor. The second former CWF World Champ that I’d have to face in two weeks, and as I’d previously alluded to, a master at finding and exploiting the weaknesses of his opponents, much like myself. In fact, I had a feeling that that might be the biggest test that I would have to face next Tuesday – not only was Danny very similar to me in his approach and strategies, but thanks to our history, both as a tag team and rivals, I knew The Ripper’s mindset and moveset almost as well as I knew my own. It’d be almost like wrestling myself! Well, at least I used to know him… maybe this new Ripper would be a little more difficult to figure out…

Putting Danny to the back of my mind, I remembered that I’d wanted to ring the old man. I checked my watch – 11:02. Just in time, I thought, to catch him before he’d be heading for bed. At the next set of stoplights, I fumbled around in my jeans pocket for my cell and dialled the number of a family friend that he’d been staying with in order to be closer to the action in Philly. I brought my phone up to my ear, clearly visualising my Dad in some kind of ancient armchair, a double whiskey in one hand, a pre-bedtime cigar in the other. Growling to himself about the cheek of people ringing at this hour. I smiled, waiting to hear said growl on the other end of the phone… yet still the dialling tone beeped away, until finally the answer machine kicked in on the other side. Hmmm… I thought to myself, Strange. Perhaps he’s headed to bed early or something… Ah well, I’ll speak to him later.

Eventually, I rolled up at “The Red Arrow”, a small yet lively pub on the outskirts of Philadelphia. The place, although initially unwelcoming from the outside, had a brilliant atmosphere and served cheap drink – what more could you want? I was ready to let my hair down after a pretty long day, but still had Danny, and my Dad’s failure to answer my phone call on my mind, if only peripherally. Jack was waiting outside the door, looking ever so slightly concerned as I approached and clapped my hand on his back.

“What took you?” he asked

“Ah, nothing. Just bumped into an old friend.”

“Wow, if you’re calling someone ‘old’ then they must be ancient!” came Jack’s reply, followed by a gregarious laugh. I chuckled along with him, playfully punching his shoulder.

“Hey, watch it with the old jokes! I have enough of that from the rest of the boys! Besides, you’re no Justin Bieber yourself!”

“Who?”

I let out a mock gasp, “Surely you’ve heard of Justin Bieber?” I put on my best excitable teenage girl voice, “He’s, like, sooooo awesome! He’s dreamy! And has such a great voice! I’ve got all his songs!”

By this time we’d made it inside and were stood by the bar itself, already attracting a few stares from the locals. Jack, however, was oblivious to it all, or possibly even enjoying the attention after years outside of the spotlight.

“Hmmm… not sure I’ve heard of him…” he began in a mock-thoughtful tone, “Did he ever duet with Bruce Springsteen?”

He laughed again, long and loud, attracting yet more stares as he nudged me theatrically in the ribs. I laughed along with him, becoming a little annoyed by the constant attention that we were now receiving. Sure, I appreciate the respect and appreciation of the fans, just not when I’ve been ‘on’ for most of the day, and am now trying to relax. Still, Jack seemed to be unflappable in this respect, as he eased into a conversation about next week’s show.

“So, next week.” Jack began, almost downing his drink in one before continuing, “Should be a bit special eh? Obviously I wasn’t around for it all, but I’ve been told you two have quite a bit of history, right?”

“Yep, and that’s putting it mildly! We’ve been reluctant partners and willing rivals, and though we’ve been pretty much at each others’ throats during our association together, I think we both came out of the whole thing with a mutual respect for one another.”

Jack looked at me over the rim of his beer bottle, “You think you can beat him?”

I considered Jack for a second, the look of steely determination on my face mirrored in his eyes, “I know I can beat him. I’ve done it once before, on the grandest stage that CWF had to offer, no less. He’s someone who focuses on psychology and mind games to win, and to be fair he’s got the in-ring skills to back that up. But I think he can sometimes focus too much on trying to take his opponent out of his game that he forgets about his own game, and he can make some pretty rookie errors for such an experienced competitor. Mind you, this could all be worth naught, as Danny’s certainly changed somewhat since ‘the old days’.”

Jack looked surprised, “Really? In what way?”

“I dunno, it’s strange. Danny always used to be a straight shooter. He wouldn’t mince his words – if he didn’t like you, he’d let you know. If he had any sort of opinion on you at all he’d let you know about it. Now though? It seems as though that side of him has disappeared completely. He seems a lot more shady, as if he’s constantly hiding something. I dunno… maybe it was a conscious effort by him to change his ways, because he saw that side of him as a weakness. Maybe something’s gone on ‘behind the scenes’. Who knows. But whatever the case may be, I need to be on my guard. From what I’ve seen so far from this ‘new and improved’ Danny, he’s lost none of his ruthless streak inside that ring, and it’ll only take one slip, one mistake and I’ll be thwarted once again in my quest for glory.”

Jack nodded appreciatively, chugging down the last of his beer, “Still, I think you’ve got enough experience to see him off. Still life in the old man yet, eh?” he said with a wink.

“Hehe, I warned you about that!” I said light-heartedly, before thinking back to the car journey here, “Shit… ‘old man’… you just reminded me, I wanted to ring my Dad again to sort out when we could meet up this week. Haven’t spoken to him in a while. Gimme a sec…”

I whipped out my cell and once more typed in the same number as before. Waited. Watched Jack look around the pub, before looking back at me, my own frown mirrored in his expression as the line once again clicked over into answer machine.

“Something wrong?” he asked, looking legitimately concerned.

“Meeh… not really. That’s the second time tonight that the old man hasn’t picked up the phone though. And he’s not usually one for turning in early…”

“Ahhh… don’t dwell on it Scorp. He’s probably just had a long day and decided to call it a night. You can speak to him tomorrow right? Don’t let it get into your head, don’t let it spoil your night…”

A flash of red, a menacing voice echoing throughout a dingy parking lot…

“Don’t let anything spoil your night.”

And I knew.

“Danny.”

I was standing, without realising how I’d come to be doing so. Jack wasn’t the only one looking at me with a quizzical look on his face. But I didn’t care. I had to go, had to go now. It wasn’t even a case of wanting to confirm my suspicions. Because whatever I’d said about Danny changing, I knew him. I knew what he is capable of, and how is mind will always work. None of this knowledge was doing me any good stood here though. I needed to get going, now!

I turned to Jack, who was still looking befuddled, “Jack, we need to move. I need to get somewhere. I think my Dad might be in danger, and I think Danny might be involved. Are you comin’?”

“Wha…?”

“Good.” I didn’t have time for specifics. I practically hauled Jack onto his feet and marched out of the pub, practically tearing a $10 bill in my haste to give it to the barman. I marched towards my Chevy minivan in double-quick time, my mind racing, before leaping into the driver’s seat. The engine was already started by the time Jack had opened the door, and he barely had time to get in and close the door before we were off and away.

As we raced through the Philadelphia traffic, my imagination raced at a similar pace. I thought about all of the sick things that Danny was capable of when he was driven to it, all of the things that he’d done in the past. No… stop it… Thinking about it was doing me no good. Besides, was what I’d said or done really that bad? Did it warrant such a knee-jerk reaction from Danny? I was probably overreacting anyway. Jumping to conclusions. Putting two and two together and making thirty five. My Mom had always said I’d had an overactive imagination…

Quicker than I was expecting, we’d arrived at the residence of the aforementioned family friend. I wrenched the door open and ran straight for the front door. Didn’t bother knocking, but instead kicked open the front door and barged into the lounge. The scene in front of me seemed to take all the air from my lungs.

There sat my father, bound by his hands to the chair where he sat, his mouth gagged. Above him stood Danny B, commanding, in total control, a small dagger being passed softly between his hands as he regarded me with his wide, intimidating smile.

“Ah, Mitch, I wondered how long it’d be. You didn’t disappoint either. Oh, and I see you’ve brought friends as well! Let’s make it a tag team effort shall we?”

At the precise moment that Jack had come bursting into the room, The Filipino Mystica Jednie appeared from behind Danny, flashing me an evil grin. I was reluctant to make a move that might put my Dad in any sort of danger, yet I knew that the longer this dragged on, the more chance there was of someone getting hurt.

“The knight in shining armour comes to rescue the day again. Seeing off the evil Ripper, just like the past, eh Mitch? Well, I can’t rewrite the past Mitch, but I can certainly influence the present and the future. And I cannot have a future which involves a worthless piece of shit like you as CWF World Champion. Just remember, though, that you drove me to this Mitch. This is all your doing. You and your sickening…”

Out of nowhere, my Dad let out a tremendous grunt and, with tremendous dexterity for a 60-something year old man, turned and launched himself at the unsuspecting Ripper. Thinking on my feet, I took advantage of the disturbance and threw myself at Jednie, driving her backwards into the wall, before throwing her to the other side of the room. I then turned my attention to Danny, pulling my Dad away from the Ripper, whose dagger was dangerously close to making contact with his torso. I snarled and started throwing everything at Danny – rights, lefts, kicks, knees, anything to make him feel just half as bad as he’d made countless others feel across the years.

I was distracted momentarily by the sound of smashing glass, and turned around to see “Jumping” Jack King put Jednie straight through the enormous windows to the front room. Danny took advantage of my lack of concentration, nailing me with a huge lariat which sent me toppling to the floor and made me see stars. I looked up to see The Ripper towering over me, grinning almost maniacally, eyes and dagger both glinting in equal measure. I saw the dagger move upwards, Danny ready to strike, and threw my eyes shut instinctively…

I heard a roar, and an almighty crash and thump. Opening my eyes, I see Jack has levelled Danny, crushing his body between the wall and his own massive physique, before launching him across the room. I scramble to my feet, and Danny recovers equally quickly, looking like he’s ready to throw himself back into battle. But a whimper from Jednie quickly changes his mind, and with a final parting sneer, he leaves to check on his beloved partner. Seconds later, they disappear into the night.

I slumped backwards, leaning against the wall. Never mind that Danny had nearly outwitted me with his new guise. Never mind that he’d nearly harmed the person with whom I was closest at this point in my life. And never mind that it had ultimately been Jack who had seen Danny off, and saved the day. They could all wait, until I had got over this psychological warfare, and got my mind set for the real battle, next Tuesday. A winner-takes-all clash, with more than just a spot in the finals of some tournament at stake. This would be the final battle… and the winner of this battle, would win a war that had been raging, perhaps unbeknownst to both of us, for far too long.
© Copyright 2017 Mitch Hall (mitchell11 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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