Post by MERCENARY on Apr 9, 2024 22:37:32 GMT -6
KFC Yum Arena Louisville, Kentucky / Scars & Stripes / Backstage
His head felt like it was being compressed in a vice, while the world sped by in pinpoints of flashing light just behind his eyelids. Gradually, the coppery taste of blood on his tongue started to bring him to his senses, as he slowly registered that the sound of the Louisville crowd seemed to now be shouting from a long way away.
His eyes opened and he fought against the feeling of something wrapped tightly around his neck. At first he thought someone had him in a choke hold, but when he pulled against the grip he saw instead that it was the cervical collar that the paramedics had put on to protect his neck and spine as they wheeled him out of the cage at Wargames.
Realizing that he was no longer in the ring, Mercenary struggled to sit up. The gurney had been left in a hallway outside the trainer’s room at the KFC Yum Arena, and on a monitor down the hall he could see that Scars and Stripes was still going on. He watched in real time as Bruce Booth and Cosmo Goldworthy combined to eliminate Vin Havoc, leaving Jason to take on three members of The House all on his own.
Mercenary ripped the brace from around his neck and, with an uncertain effort, swung his legs over the edge of the stretcher until his feet were finally touching the floor. The exertion caused his blood pressure to spike and his head throbbed as he tried to find his balance. On the monitor Jason managed to eliminate Bruce after turning the tables on both Booth and Goldworthy. But Mercenary could see that he was still outnumbered by Cosmo and JoJo Rush.
Forcing himself to his feet, Mercenary began to stumble in what he thought was the direction of the entrance ramp into the arena. After about five or six unsteady steps, Mike had to put his weight against the wall to keep from falling, and the concerned voice of one of the medics called after him from down the hall.
“Mister Mercer! Please… You need to lay back down! You’ve sustained serious head trauma and we suspect you have a concussion. You’re in no condition to be up and walking around!”
On the screen Jason narrowly avoided getting blasted by a combined, barbed-wire assisted Golden Bull Rush, as Cosmo and JoJo clothesline each other from opposite sides of the ring. Without looking back Merc waved off the medic and pushed himself off the wall to help propel his weight in the direction of the action.
“Fuck off!” He slurred, almost incoherently. “I gotta get back to the ring. My team needs me!”
Three paramedics rushed to catch him as he stumbled and almost fell face first onto the concrete floor. Retrieving the gurney, they put his neck back into traction, before gently laying his head back down on the padded rest. The pounding in his skull had become almost unbearable, but before the blinding pain stole his sight completely, the last thing he saw was his teammate Jason Anderson getting dropped, back first, across a concrete block.
And though he didn’t see the pinfall, he felt the failure of that defeat with every fiber of his being that wasn’t already in agony.
Mike could feel another headache coming. He rubbed his temples and put on his darkest pair of sunglasses. Ever since that night in Kentucky he’d been getting headaches on a fairly regular basis and his eyes had become sensitive to the light. But he was doing his best to suffer in silence.
After Scars and Stripes the EWC medical staff had put him through a concussion protocol and scheduled some mandatory tests to check for signs of CTE. But until he knew anything for sure he didn’t want to say or do anything that would upset Mia, who was in the midst of her second trimester, and already had enough anxiety to deal with.
As it stood he had been cleared to compete at Rampage’s Go-Home Show for Stranglemania in Birmingham, Alabama. The fact that he’d been cleared to wrestle so soon after Wargames had actually surprised him a little, but not as much as finding out that he was booked on the Pay Per View itself, where he would face Cosmo Goldworthy and Vin in a three way match for Havoc’s Fighting Spirit Championship.
Mike stretches to relieve the stiffness in his arms and legs. It had been a rough trip from Nashville with Jay behind the wheel, but he hadn’t wanted to risk taking a flight, not until the results came back on his head scans.
“You sure you wanna do this here?” Jay said from behind the digital camera. “There’s a ton of tourist brochures in the visitor’s center. I’m sure we can find some place a little more… colorful.”
Looking around the run down Alabama rest stop, he thought that Jay probably had a point. There was nothing unique about this place. It looked like any other American rest area, with its main building and bathrooms, lit by lines of dented vending machines and decorated with racks of random brochures for every variety of tourist attraction. But between the pain in his head, and the weight of his troubled thoughts, he had very little patience for set dressing.
“Naw, this is fine. Let’s just shoot the damn thing already.”
Shrugging his shoulders Jay lines him up in the viewfinder and starts to record.
Mercenary stares off into space for a long moment, watching the anonymous traffic on I-65 pass by, on their way to unknown destinations. He thought about where his own road would take him, not just to Rampage 526 in the Bartow Arena, but beyond to Wembley Stadium and Stranglemania.
“There’s an old adage in the boxing world that goes ‘Kill the head and the body will follow.’ “
He absently rubbed the spot where the staples were still holding his scalp together.
“And with chair shots and a lead pipe, that sumbitch ZERO… He did his damnedest to put that homicidal logic to the test.”
Angrily, he removes his cap and scrapes his hand back through his spiky hair, before resettling it on his head.
“That big bastard was every bit the enemy that I thought he would be. But until you’re standing face to mask with that level of crazy rage, you can never know how bad it’s really gonna be.”
Taking a weighty breath, he sighs.
“There’s also a similar saying about strategy in wartime: ‘If you cut off the head of the snake, the body will die.’ But when you do battle with a group like The House, it can feel like you’re Hercules fighting the Hydra.”
He bites his bottom lip and resists another heavy sigh.
“At Wargames Team Rampage took our fair share of heads, but it just wasn’t enough to put The Beast to bed. Because on that night, the head of The House was wearing the face of JoJo Rush.”
He shakes his head in disappointment.
“One by one we all fell down and The House stands stronger than ever.”
He takes a beat to pop his neck and fight his frustration.
“And now Team Rampage gets to settle that failure among ourselves.”
He shifts awkwardly.
“Some people might look at a three way dance where Vin and I are in the same ring with Cosmo Goldworthy as a two-on-one advantage. And in most cases they might be right. But not when the Fighting Spirit Title is on the line. In a match like that, friendships go right out the window.”
His expression reflects his discomfort.
“But that’s the business. One minute you’re bonding… the next… you’re beating the shit out of a friend. But for a guy like me, it takes a second to shift those gears.”
He smiles sarcastically.
“I think that’s why Grizzly set up this little warm up match with Justin Paige and Jason Anderson leading into Stranglemania. Just like Vin, Jason is one of my best friends in the business, and he was on my team at Wargames. He was the guy who outlasted us all and came close to winning the whole damn thing.”
This time there’s no sarcasm in his solemn smile.
“Jason, I'll never forgive myself for not being able to fight by your side at the end of Wargames, but I'm sure you'll get your receipt at Stranglemania. Now as far as this fight goes, you and I have been around the block before, more than once, and I know how dangerous having you as an opponent can be. And I also know that, teammate or not, this week you won't be pulling any punches. Because this is a no DQ, Hardcore Rules match. And the record shows that be it dog collars, light tubes, cage fights or gettin' down and dirty in the desert, that shit is right up both of our alleys.
You’ve been on one helluva run this season. Until Candy checked Sally's privilege on Prime, you came closer to beating The Undisputed Champion than anyone else in The EWC, including myself. And Hell, while I was nursing my wounds from Wargames, you were back in the ring at Paramount 43 in Lima against Ibuki Ito.”
Merc chuckles in admiration.
“And even though you didn’t give yourself any time to heal so you didn’t actually manage to beat the North American Champion, I still gotta give you credit, because that’s guts my brotha. I just hope that the lack of a break doesn't work against you.”
Mercenary raises his eyebrows behind his shades and shrugs.
“But Justin Paige did bring back a win with him from Peru. He won a three-way dance against Shaker Jones and Sonya.”
He nods his approval.
“Justin, you get to be the odd man out in this match, but as far as I can tell, you seem to be pretty comfortable with that arrangement. And even though you're bigger and taller than Cosmo, you'll still be a pretty acceptable stand-in for the U.S. Champion. After all, you seem to tick all the boxes. Athletic? Check. Strong striker? Check. Egotistical? Seems like it. Overconfident? Probably. But a few weeks ago, despite the age difference, you managed to hang with the Golden Boy at Rampage 524 in New Dehli. And even though you lost that match, that's still no small accomplishment.
You’re a guy with considerable experience, Paige. And you’re also someone who, kinda like myself, knows something about the frustration of not living up to your potential. You're hungry to make your last chance count, and you've got a few solid wins this season to prove it. But you also seem to have your demons. And maybe it was those dumb-ass demons that helped you blunder your way into being a part of this three-way car crash. But trust me my man, overcoming a troubled past and family issues, that's some back story that everybody in this match all seem to have in common.”
He gives the camera a knowing stare.
“This match has all the ingredients I need to get myself in the right mindset for Stranglemania. It’s everything I need to put myself in a place where I can take on one good friend and two great athletes and be okay with walking out the winner.
Jason has put himself into a place where he’s in contention for more than one championship. And Justin Paige is a self-assured, long in the tooth, tough guy with something to prove. Pinning either one of them would definitely improve my slow rebound this season. And beating both of them would be the kick in the ass I need to go to London with my head screwed on in the right direction.”
He squares off to the camera.
“So on Friday Night, in Birmingham, I’m gonna put my loss to Sally Talfourd behind me. I’m gonna shake the PTSD from Wargames. In this match I'm gonna have to adapt to two styles of fighter: One is a stand up striker and submission specialist. The other is a bona fide wrestling prodigy, who might just be the next Hardcore Champion. Both of these guys can take a beating like nobody's business but, when it comes to the business of Hardcore violence, I for damn sure ain't NOBODY. And I can get bad, bloody and busted up with the best of'em.
At Rampage 526 I'm gonna do what I do best. I'm gonna adjust to my losses. I'm gonna adapt to my injuries. And I'm gonna leave Alabama with a win and the momentum I need to move forward towards Stranglemania. Where for the second time in our friendship, I’m gonna take a title from my friend Vin Havoc, after we both beat the shit out of one Unworthy United States Champion.”
Holding a confident pose for a few seconds he signals Jay to cut the camera.
"Man, do me a favor. Run to the car and grab me some Ibuprofen."
Jay eyes him with a look of concern.
"You doin' alright bro?"
Mike rubs his forehead and nods.
"Yeah... I'll be fine... Good to go... It's just a headache."
His head felt like it was being compressed in a vice, while the world sped by in pinpoints of flashing light just behind his eyelids. Gradually, the coppery taste of blood on his tongue started to bring him to his senses, as he slowly registered that the sound of the Louisville crowd seemed to now be shouting from a long way away.
His eyes opened and he fought against the feeling of something wrapped tightly around his neck. At first he thought someone had him in a choke hold, but when he pulled against the grip he saw instead that it was the cervical collar that the paramedics had put on to protect his neck and spine as they wheeled him out of the cage at Wargames.
Realizing that he was no longer in the ring, Mercenary struggled to sit up. The gurney had been left in a hallway outside the trainer’s room at the KFC Yum Arena, and on a monitor down the hall he could see that Scars and Stripes was still going on. He watched in real time as Bruce Booth and Cosmo Goldworthy combined to eliminate Vin Havoc, leaving Jason to take on three members of The House all on his own.
Mercenary ripped the brace from around his neck and, with an uncertain effort, swung his legs over the edge of the stretcher until his feet were finally touching the floor. The exertion caused his blood pressure to spike and his head throbbed as he tried to find his balance. On the monitor Jason managed to eliminate Bruce after turning the tables on both Booth and Goldworthy. But Mercenary could see that he was still outnumbered by Cosmo and JoJo Rush.
Forcing himself to his feet, Mercenary began to stumble in what he thought was the direction of the entrance ramp into the arena. After about five or six unsteady steps, Mike had to put his weight against the wall to keep from falling, and the concerned voice of one of the medics called after him from down the hall.
“Mister Mercer! Please… You need to lay back down! You’ve sustained serious head trauma and we suspect you have a concussion. You’re in no condition to be up and walking around!”
On the screen Jason narrowly avoided getting blasted by a combined, barbed-wire assisted Golden Bull Rush, as Cosmo and JoJo clothesline each other from opposite sides of the ring. Without looking back Merc waved off the medic and pushed himself off the wall to help propel his weight in the direction of the action.
“Fuck off!” He slurred, almost incoherently. “I gotta get back to the ring. My team needs me!”
Three paramedics rushed to catch him as he stumbled and almost fell face first onto the concrete floor. Retrieving the gurney, they put his neck back into traction, before gently laying his head back down on the padded rest. The pounding in his skull had become almost unbearable, but before the blinding pain stole his sight completely, the last thing he saw was his teammate Jason Anderson getting dropped, back first, across a concrete block.
And though he didn’t see the pinfall, he felt the failure of that defeat with every fiber of his being that wasn’t already in agony.
***
Alabama Visitor's Center/ On the road to Birmingham / April 8th
Mike could feel another headache coming. He rubbed his temples and put on his darkest pair of sunglasses. Ever since that night in Kentucky he’d been getting headaches on a fairly regular basis and his eyes had become sensitive to the light. But he was doing his best to suffer in silence.
After Scars and Stripes the EWC medical staff had put him through a concussion protocol and scheduled some mandatory tests to check for signs of CTE. But until he knew anything for sure he didn’t want to say or do anything that would upset Mia, who was in the midst of her second trimester, and already had enough anxiety to deal with.
As it stood he had been cleared to compete at Rampage’s Go-Home Show for Stranglemania in Birmingham, Alabama. The fact that he’d been cleared to wrestle so soon after Wargames had actually surprised him a little, but not as much as finding out that he was booked on the Pay Per View itself, where he would face Cosmo Goldworthy and Vin in a three way match for Havoc’s Fighting Spirit Championship.
Mike stretches to relieve the stiffness in his arms and legs. It had been a rough trip from Nashville with Jay behind the wheel, but he hadn’t wanted to risk taking a flight, not until the results came back on his head scans.
“You sure you wanna do this here?” Jay said from behind the digital camera. “There’s a ton of tourist brochures in the visitor’s center. I’m sure we can find some place a little more… colorful.”
Looking around the run down Alabama rest stop, he thought that Jay probably had a point. There was nothing unique about this place. It looked like any other American rest area, with its main building and bathrooms, lit by lines of dented vending machines and decorated with racks of random brochures for every variety of tourist attraction. But between the pain in his head, and the weight of his troubled thoughts, he had very little patience for set dressing.
“Naw, this is fine. Let’s just shoot the damn thing already.”
Shrugging his shoulders Jay lines him up in the viewfinder and starts to record.
Mercenary stares off into space for a long moment, watching the anonymous traffic on I-65 pass by, on their way to unknown destinations. He thought about where his own road would take him, not just to Rampage 526 in the Bartow Arena, but beyond to Wembley Stadium and Stranglemania.
“There’s an old adage in the boxing world that goes ‘Kill the head and the body will follow.’ “
He absently rubbed the spot where the staples were still holding his scalp together.
“And with chair shots and a lead pipe, that sumbitch ZERO… He did his damnedest to put that homicidal logic to the test.”
Angrily, he removes his cap and scrapes his hand back through his spiky hair, before resettling it on his head.
“That big bastard was every bit the enemy that I thought he would be. But until you’re standing face to mask with that level of crazy rage, you can never know how bad it’s really gonna be.”
Taking a weighty breath, he sighs.
“There’s also a similar saying about strategy in wartime: ‘If you cut off the head of the snake, the body will die.’ But when you do battle with a group like The House, it can feel like you’re Hercules fighting the Hydra.”
He bites his bottom lip and resists another heavy sigh.
“At Wargames Team Rampage took our fair share of heads, but it just wasn’t enough to put The Beast to bed. Because on that night, the head of The House was wearing the face of JoJo Rush.”
He shakes his head in disappointment.
“One by one we all fell down and The House stands stronger than ever.”
He takes a beat to pop his neck and fight his frustration.
“And now Team Rampage gets to settle that failure among ourselves.”
He shifts awkwardly.
“Some people might look at a three way dance where Vin and I are in the same ring with Cosmo Goldworthy as a two-on-one advantage. And in most cases they might be right. But not when the Fighting Spirit Title is on the line. In a match like that, friendships go right out the window.”
His expression reflects his discomfort.
“But that’s the business. One minute you’re bonding… the next… you’re beating the shit out of a friend. But for a guy like me, it takes a second to shift those gears.”
He smiles sarcastically.
“I think that’s why Grizzly set up this little warm up match with Justin Paige and Jason Anderson leading into Stranglemania. Just like Vin, Jason is one of my best friends in the business, and he was on my team at Wargames. He was the guy who outlasted us all and came close to winning the whole damn thing.”
This time there’s no sarcasm in his solemn smile.
“Jason, I'll never forgive myself for not being able to fight by your side at the end of Wargames, but I'm sure you'll get your receipt at Stranglemania. Now as far as this fight goes, you and I have been around the block before, more than once, and I know how dangerous having you as an opponent can be. And I also know that, teammate or not, this week you won't be pulling any punches. Because this is a no DQ, Hardcore Rules match. And the record shows that be it dog collars, light tubes, cage fights or gettin' down and dirty in the desert, that shit is right up both of our alleys.
You’ve been on one helluva run this season. Until Candy checked Sally's privilege on Prime, you came closer to beating The Undisputed Champion than anyone else in The EWC, including myself. And Hell, while I was nursing my wounds from Wargames, you were back in the ring at Paramount 43 in Lima against Ibuki Ito.”
Merc chuckles in admiration.
“And even though you didn’t give yourself any time to heal so you didn’t actually manage to beat the North American Champion, I still gotta give you credit, because that’s guts my brotha. I just hope that the lack of a break doesn't work against you.”
Mercenary raises his eyebrows behind his shades and shrugs.
“But Justin Paige did bring back a win with him from Peru. He won a three-way dance against Shaker Jones and Sonya.”
He nods his approval.
“Justin, you get to be the odd man out in this match, but as far as I can tell, you seem to be pretty comfortable with that arrangement. And even though you're bigger and taller than Cosmo, you'll still be a pretty acceptable stand-in for the U.S. Champion. After all, you seem to tick all the boxes. Athletic? Check. Strong striker? Check. Egotistical? Seems like it. Overconfident? Probably. But a few weeks ago, despite the age difference, you managed to hang with the Golden Boy at Rampage 524 in New Dehli. And even though you lost that match, that's still no small accomplishment.
You’re a guy with considerable experience, Paige. And you’re also someone who, kinda like myself, knows something about the frustration of not living up to your potential. You're hungry to make your last chance count, and you've got a few solid wins this season to prove it. But you also seem to have your demons. And maybe it was those dumb-ass demons that helped you blunder your way into being a part of this three-way car crash. But trust me my man, overcoming a troubled past and family issues, that's some back story that everybody in this match all seem to have in common.”
He gives the camera a knowing stare.
“This match has all the ingredients I need to get myself in the right mindset for Stranglemania. It’s everything I need to put myself in a place where I can take on one good friend and two great athletes and be okay with walking out the winner.
Jason has put himself into a place where he’s in contention for more than one championship. And Justin Paige is a self-assured, long in the tooth, tough guy with something to prove. Pinning either one of them would definitely improve my slow rebound this season. And beating both of them would be the kick in the ass I need to go to London with my head screwed on in the right direction.”
He squares off to the camera.
“So on Friday Night, in Birmingham, I’m gonna put my loss to Sally Talfourd behind me. I’m gonna shake the PTSD from Wargames. In this match I'm gonna have to adapt to two styles of fighter: One is a stand up striker and submission specialist. The other is a bona fide wrestling prodigy, who might just be the next Hardcore Champion. Both of these guys can take a beating like nobody's business but, when it comes to the business of Hardcore violence, I for damn sure ain't NOBODY. And I can get bad, bloody and busted up with the best of'em.
At Rampage 526 I'm gonna do what I do best. I'm gonna adjust to my losses. I'm gonna adapt to my injuries. And I'm gonna leave Alabama with a win and the momentum I need to move forward towards Stranglemania. Where for the second time in our friendship, I’m gonna take a title from my friend Vin Havoc, after we both beat the shit out of one Unworthy United States Champion.”
Holding a confident pose for a few seconds he signals Jay to cut the camera.
"Man, do me a favor. Run to the car and grab me some Ibuprofen."
Jay eyes him with a look of concern.
"You doin' alright bro?"
Mike rubs his forehead and nods.
"Yeah... I'll be fine... Good to go... It's just a headache."
