Yes, Vinic, I have empathy for you. You lost a father, something that can never be replaced. You lost a friend and a confidant. A man who taught you everything about life. You shared moments with him that you could never truly share with another soul. It's tragedy in it's most horrid form. But look at you, now. You're a professional wrestler, and a damn good one. You're a former champion in a field I doubt you had any idea you'd make your living in. Trust me, I'm all too familiar with that feeling, as well. One minute I'm growing up, alone, on the streets of Detroit barely of age to vote and the next I'm winning Tag Championships for the Xtreme Wrestling Federation, then run by Jon Brown...a tragedy in his own right.
Tragedy is something we all deal with, Vinic. It's something that is a part of life. Ironic how death can sometimes be all that consumes our lives. But, alas, sometimes that's just how the good Lord deals us the cards.
Are you a religious man, Vinic? Take a look towards the heavens if you are. Look towards the Man for guidance through tragedy and He will shine his holy light down upon you and...
...who the fuck am I kidding?
**
The church was packed. On stage about thirty feet in front of them was a production worthy of The Met but spewing out the Good Word. Hunter never understood why religion had to be made into such a production. Such a show. Didn't that defeat the purpose of living humbly? Huge, castle-like places of worship that would have made Henry VIII blush were places to worship the Lord. But here he sat, Amber by his side singing right along to the hymns. Or he was trying to, at least.
Hunter was not a church person and he was almost sure God agreed.
Eventually the offerings basket was passed around. Hunter tossed in his envelope that Amber had convinced him to contribute. The basket got by him and disappeared up to the altar and back into a small room where, no doubt, an altar boy was counting it and handing it off to some other altar boy who would stash it somewhere after pocketing a few bucks, himself. At least that's how Hunter expected things to go. Maybe he was just not a fan of organized religion.
Or he was just never a fan of God, in general.
“Let us pray.”
The priest began a prayer as everyone in attendance bowed their heads. Everyone except Hunter. Amber nudged him.
“Bow your head.” She whispered.
He obliged more just to humor her and not embarrass her. The priest began the prayer.
“Lord Jesus, we thank you for another day of our lives. You've given us the most amazing gift of all and we thank you, Lord. As we start this month of September and see another year quickly coming to an end...”
Hunter zoned out. The church got quiet and all he could do was be with his own thoughts. This is what he did, now. It was how he focused on the things in his life that needed the most attention. Well, the one thing, anyway. His career. No more woman attachment. No more family. It was just Hunter. That's how he liked it from now on. Nothing tying him down or distracting him from what should be the most important thing to him at least for the rest of the year.
The XWF Hall of Legends.
In truth, it was the real reason Hunter came back. He and Nick had plans to make one more run at the Tag Team Titles, but Blizzard has other things planned for the Ryan Brothers, it seems. Nick has his shot at being number one contender for the United States Title...and ironic enough...Hunter could walk out of Rage in the Cage as the US Champ. How would that go over? Ryan vs. Ryan for one of the most coveted belts in the business. To some, it might sound like a lame match. But when you think about it, doesn't everyone love watching Nick Ryan get his ass kicked?
“Hunter!”
Amber shakes him out of his zone...to his frustration.
“Were you sleeping?”
“No I was meditating.”
Hunter stands up as the rest of the congregation stands as the priest and altar boys start their walk down the center of the pews towards the back. He never understood what the real awe was about religious men in uniform. They were human beings just as he was. They just worshiped something they had no proof ever existed. Then again, Hunter had no proof it didn't. Therein lies the controversy.
He felt a push from behind. It was time to leave.
The few hundred people filed out of the front doors to the church and Hunter steps into the bright lights of the Tampa sun and immediately breaks a sweat in the 95-degree weather with the typical 100% humidity. It was hell, but Hunter found it much better to live here than back up in Detroit where he had the risk of running into his wife. Life was much less hectic that way.
He and Amber walked back to the car. She had a look on her face like she was quite disappointed in him. This ride back should be fun.
“You couldn't take it for just one hour could you, Hunter?”
“Take what, Amber?”
She glared at him from the other side of the car as he opened his door.
“Normalcy. Being a normal human being for just one hour in church with me. Is it really so hard to just...be normal?!”
She got into the passenger seat and slammed the door just as he got into his seat. He started the car and she stopped his hand as it went for the gear shift.
“I'm sorry. This is the last thing you want. I know it's not my place to talk to you like that and I'm sorry.”
He smiled at her.
“You're right, Amber. Thank you.”
deeppink“For what?”
Hunter shifts the car into reverse and pulls out of the church parking lot.
“You're right for apologizing. I don't need this right now. So yes, thank you for recognizing your place.”
She seemed quite offended by his demeanor. She turned and faced the front, folding her arms across her chest. She started to say something but he cut her off before a word got out.
“Maybe this whole thing with us, whatever it is, is a bad idea, Amber. Maybe I'm not ready to get close to another woman, just yet. Maybe I never will. What I went through with Jodi took a lot out of me and it's going to take a lot to get me to a point where I'm okay letting someone else in.”
She chuckles and now it's his turn to be offended.
“You sound like such a woman! Do you hear yourself, Hunter? I have tried so hard to be sympathetic to what you've been through. Trust me, I still am. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. But my God you're turning yourself into a miserable person! The man I met weeks ago has almost disappeared! You've turned yourself into...a shell, Hunter. An ugly, miserable shell!”
He slams on the breaks and she has to brace herself on the dashboard. The car behind them nearly slams into the back of Hunter's Lexus but manages to swerve, the driver laying on the horn all the way past. He pulls the car to the side of the road and cuts the ignition.
“I don't think you have any idea what I go through every single day of my life, Amber. Ever since the XWF came into my life, every day has been a challenge for me. Physically, emotionally...I'm drained every single day! The one constant...the one thing in my life that made sense and kept me grounded was her. Jodi was everything to me. Everything that I've now lost because of this life I've led the last four years. Do I regret it? It sounds sick...but not at all. No way. The XWF has been there through the worst times I ever had with Jodi, it's still there now, and it will always be there. No matter what I've done, and Amber I've done things, trust me...the XWF always opened it's arms to me after the dust settled. No matter who was in charge...I was always welcomed back. So guess what? That's what my life will be from here on out. Wrestling. It's who I am and who I will be until the day I'm hooked up to an artificial lung and can't piss on my own, anymore.”
“Hunter I was not trying to -”
“Shut your mouth! You're just going to hold me back, Amber. Maybe not on purpose...but I'm going to become weak with you around. It happened with Jodi and it will happen with you. I can't fall for you and I refuse to put myself in a position to risk that happening. My career is on it's last legs and I have too much to worry about before I retire for good. So please...just get out.”
She seemed confused. Had he just kicked her out of the car? In the middle of the road?
“Open the door, swing those stems around, and get out of my car. Please.”
Tears swelled in her eyes and she let them pour down her cheeks. But no sound. No sobbing. She did as she was asked, and shut the door behind her. Hunter peeled away leaving her standing by the side of the road.
**
Hunter pulled the car into his driveway and cut the engine. He sat there staring at the steering wheel. Had he just ditched her by the side of the road? Really? What was wrong with him? Maybe he was having personality issues, again? Battling Bob, again? No. This felt different. This felt...controlled. Hunter felt like he was in complete control of his emotions...and that scared him. These weren't the kind of emotions he was used to.
And he didn't have Jodi around to calm him down. He was alone. And after his actions towards Amber, this was even more true. She was really the only person he'd spent time with since he'd moved down to Florida. She was good company. Just...wasn't something he needed. She was something he couldn't need. Couldn't want. She was a weakness he needed to avoid. If he kept her around, it was only a matter of time before things got serious. The only serious he needed in his life was his career. He would do anything and everything to keep it that way. He had way too much on the line.
What really surprised him is what he'd done this past Monday night. He'd gotten a phone call from his brother a couple weeks ago asking for a favor. A favor he normally wouldn't have done in a million years. However, this past Monday night, Hunter ventured to enemy turf to take part in a match as a special guest referee for WGWF's Monday Night Brawl.
Call it crazy. But something inside him just figured he was due to do a favor for his brother. Even if he got a little bruised up in the process. It would be the last time Hunter would show his face around WGWF. He had a competed there years ago and loathed it then. For all he cared, Adam Barker could rot in hell. As for Chris Page...they still had a score to settle on XWF turf. But that would be something for another day, perhaps.
Hunter had become a man obsessed with his craft. The trip to Los Angeles and the appearance on WGWF Television was a sign that no matter where his craft took him, he would sell-out to the competition to be involved in something. He hoped his XWF family would forgive him, but it was an impulse and it was now out of his system. Back to the real deal. Back to the real show. Back to the XWF and Rage in the Cage. That was what stood in front of him. A record fourth United States Title reign. He had to get that at the forefront of his mind and focus on that.
He needed a drink.
Five minutes later he was pulling into a bar around the corner from his condo. He stepped out of his car and chirped the alarm as he made his way to the front doors. Stepping inside, he smelled the sweet smell of darts and billiards. Cigar smoke and liquor. All things he had become very accustomed to over the last month. One more thing to help him relax through all this, and keep his mind clear.
He stepped up to the bar and the bartender immediately slid him his Jack Daniels and Coke. Hunter was quite the regular here. McDinton's was the name of the bar. Run by an Irish family, it had the most relaxed atmosphere in South Tampa. Just what he needed right now. Jesse, the bartender, leaned over and examined his regular.
“You look like you just broke up with someone.”
Hunter raised his glass.
“You're getting good at this.”
He threw back a long chug from his glass and Jesse made him another.
“So what's the deal, Hunter? Why the visit tonight? Not that I mind. Always welcome a celebrity like yourself. Helps business to have people like you come in here.”
“I'm the only person like me that comes in here, Jess.”
“Well, yeah but you're so liked. I mean, just look at all these adoring fans that flock to your side when you walk in the door.”
The two men look around. No one seems to have noticed Hunter at the bar. They're all going about their business. Hunter kind of liked that. He wasn't in the mood for autographs, little children running to his side looking for a role model, or women shooting him glances looking for a quick sugar daddy for the night. It's why he came here. To get away.
He relaxed against the bar and looked over towards the dart boards. He hadn't played himself some darts in a while. I remembered how good he was back in his day. Hustling in the dark, back ally bars of Detroit before he was old enough to vote. It was time to give Tampa a try.
He walked over to the nearest boards. There was a couple playing a relaxed game of cricket. Hunter walked up to the board next to theirs. He took a few darts and lined up his first shot. Triple twenty on the first throw. Next dart, eighteen. Last dart, bullseye. He hadn't lost his touch. He chugged down his drink. Two down in a matter of six minutes. He walked over to the bar and Jesse slid him another one.
“You're on a roll, Hunt. Maybe you should slow down and enjoy these.”
Hunter took his third drink and walked back over to his board. A few college guys and their girlfriends had taken over the board in the minute it had taken Hunter to go back for another drink. He set his drink down on the high-top in front of the board.
“Excuse me, man. I was using this board. There's other open boards down at the other end of the bar.”
Hunter attempts to grab the darts off the board but one of the college guys steps in his way.
“You stepped away, my friend. My buddies and I jumped at this one because it's closest to the bar and the big screens. I'm sure you understand the situation.”
The college guy takes the darts off the board and walks over to the high-top table with his party. Hunter stood with his back to them still facing the board.
“Can you move out of the way, man? We're gonna play.”
Hunter turned back to them and took a deep breath. He walked over, picked up his drink, and started back towards the bar. He overheard one of the guys say something under his breath.
“Told you they're only tough on TV.”
Hunter turns around and slowly makes his way back to the party at the dart board. He steps in front of the board just before the biggest college guy lines up his shot.
“You really do have a death wish, don't you, buddy?”
“I don't know about a death wish. But apparently I have to prove to your little guy there that we aren't just tough on television. Throw the dart.”
The bigger guy looked down at his friend who had made the comment. He turns back to Hunter.
“What?”
“You heard me. I didn't stutter. Throw the damn dart.”
The little guy nudges his buddy and motions for him to throw the dart. The bigger guy hesitates but lines up his shot. A few people have turned their attention to the scene going on at Hunter's board. Hunter's standing dead center of the board and the guy has little room to line up a shot to hit the board behind him.
Then, as if happening all in slow motion, the bigger guy threw the dart towards Hunter. As expected, it misses the board and impales into Hunter's shoulder. He winces a bit as a small bit of blood soaks through his shirt. A few people in the area gasp and one woman screams. Hunter stands his ground. He walks towards the guys at the table, grabs the end of the dart and removes it from his shoulder. He holds it up in the face of the little guy.
“You wanna try?”
The little guy stares at the dart in Hunter's hand and at the blood on the tip. He swallows hard and looks up at his buddy who is just as in shock. The two pick up their drinks and back away from Hunter slowly, taking their girlfriends by the arms. The farther away from the table they get, they quicken their pace and make their way over to the farthest tables.
Hunter notices Jesse was staring across the bar at him, in shock, himself. Hunter just raises his glass to his bartender friend and chugs back his third before turning back to his board to enjoy his darts.
**
Vinic DuShane has lost his father. Pity. I know all too much how that feels. He seems to have a hard time putting it behind him, though. Death is a part of every life, Vinic. We all deal with it in our own ways, of course. But here's where your situation and mine are different. I'm at a point now, a couple of years removed from my own father's death, where I use it as a strength rather than a hindrance. You're going to take this tragedy and allow it to consume you so much, that one of these days it will be your own demise. Maybe not physically, but professionally. Sunday just may be that night.
When I was fourteen years old, I found myself dealing with abandonment, Vinic. I had only myself to rely on. The streets of Detroit, some of the most brutal in the country, were my biggest obstacle every day and night of my life. Here I stand. Alive and stronger because of those cold nights huddled up underneath cardboard boxes. I used dirty trash bags as sleeping bags and full trash bags as pillows. I slept in the rain, snow, sleet, and hail. I slept in the sunshine and under a full moon. I fought off thugs and had to do a bit of petty crime, myself, to survive.
Here I stand. Stronger than ever. I took the true meaning of tragedy and made it my strength. Every day of my life, Vinic. What do you do? You sulk and sob at the grave of your father. You battle your own demons and his. You stand over his burial place and mourn. That's what you do. You tell me how that makes you strong. It's the most obvious form of weakness. Allowing tragedy to run your life. It's sad, Vinic. I wish I could feel sorry for you, but instead I'll chose to pity you. And on Sunday night I'll chose to show you no mercy at all.
We all have our stories to tell. Our sob stories. Our stories of strength and overcoming odds. No one can say their story is more tragic than another because they're the ones who lived it. I just wanted to make it very clear to you that one of the men you face on Sunday has been in your shoes...
...and became stronger because of it. Before Sunday night, Vinic, how bout growing some nuts, sucking it up, and walking down to that ring a new man. A man hell-bent on walking out with his most prestigious victory in his young career. I've beaten legends for my titles, DuShane. Sunday night I don't face legends, but two of this business's most promising young talents. I like you. You've got all the right kinds of potential. But you make a very valid point. Potential is nothing unless you do something with it. Wise words from someone so raw in this business. But nothing could be more true.
The Hall of Legends is the ultimate goal for a man like me, Vinic. I don't have that much left to do in this business or in life, really...but I know very well that titles aren't the sole reason one is given such an honor. It is, as you say, the impact you have on the business you've devoted your life to. The Ryan name means little in this place. It's had a few flashes of grandeur...but nothing more. Hunter Ryan punched in Jon Brown's jaw and caused one of the biggest men in this business's history to make a fool of himself on national television for months because of a speech impediment he had because of me. Hunter Ryan gave the legendary Centurion one of the biggest and best feuds of his historic career in 2009, taking a US and World Title from him in the process. Hunter Ryan helped run the former development show, Impact, when the likes of James Raven, Rage, and Krazzy Kidd were just young pups in the business. But I'm well aware none of that is legendary. None of that is impactful enough to gain the respect needed to be considered. But I will tell you this, Vinic. Win or lose this Sunday night, there is something on the horizon for Hunter Ryan. Something very soon will come around and it will be something no one will forget. I promise you that.
I found my potential a long time ago...and became a three-time US Champion and World Champion. Sunday night I have the chance to make history by winning that belt a fourth time. It's what I plan on doing, DuShane. What's your plan? How about to stay out of my way and let two former World Champs give the fans what they really want to see.
RJ Palmer and I have already seen our potential, haven't we...mate?
Once deemed the next big thing in the XWF, you seem to have fallen off the radar a bit, RJ. Why is that? Maybe because you're just a mouth? Maybe because you're nothing more than a guy who gets lucky? Luck has a bad tendency to run out at the most inopportune time, RJ. Like this Sunday night, for example.
You don't seem to have much respect for the United States Title, RJ. You seem to see it as merely a stepping stone to bigger and better things. Well, guess what, big guy? You're absolutely right. In this business, few people walk before they crawl. It's not every day a Ranma Saotome or James Raven comes along. Hell, even Raven held the Phoenix Title on Impact a few times. Then he became...well...James Raven.
Another thing you don't seem to have much respect for, RJ, is...well...me. The “second-biggest failure on the planet” I do believe were your words. My friend, when you were still blowing Turkish hookers...yes, I said blowing because that's how you roll...I was beating legends in my sleep. No, not “beating off” legends. Sorry, had to catch that before you did because, well, the easiest thing in the world, it seems, is to make a gay joke about a Ryan Brother.
You aren't far from the truth, however. I've definitely failed. I failed as a husband. I failed as a father to my unborn son. I failed as a brother...and son. So yes, I have failed quite a bit. But let's see who's on the end of a three-count on Sunday night, RJ. Let's see who fails then. Will you garner your first US Title and prove to the world that you are worth a damn in this business after all? Or do I need to beat you, again, and walk into the history books? I guess time will tell, my friend.
We're in China on Sunday, gentlemen. The world's most populated country. Plenty of people to watch the world's most electrifying business do it's thing. We have the honor of wrestling for one of the most prestigious prizes in this business.
To me...
...that is fucking EPIC!