glacier. // that would require me to give a shit.

RECAP
Anthony always has an issue. He only fights when people assume he will lose and doesn’t care when no one else cares about his match. It is a reflection on his aging or the fact that he just doesn’t give a shit at times. He was the kind of person who didn’t care for much, supposedly. He had his kids at home that to him were something to care about. David Helms jizzing himself because he won the Suicidal Championship. Fine. I guess he had to be happy about holding a second rate title, Glacier was planning to go directly to the top and start tearing people down. People like The Syndicate were on his list of destruction and chaos. He was a top notch fighter when he wanted to be. He could very well end Isabella’s win streak, it would be ended by either him or Davis anyway. How long could she manage to play top dog? Furthermore, Anthony suspects she and her little friends might have something to do with the cage falling down on top of Davis and him. He would soon find out.

Location: Las Vegas, Nevada
He was in jail. Yes, Anthony Thomas somehow landed himself in jail but this time not from excessively loud parties but from anger. He laid his head against the bars, wishing and counting down the days that Shorty and his son would come to bail him out. He was fucked. That much he knew. Either he’d get his ass beat from within the confines of these walls or Shorty Junior would bail him out and beat his ass anyway. It was tough shit he was dealing with but he’s been through rough. Or at least that’s what he told himself. Well in all technically he was in a holding cell but how far off is that from jail if shit keeps going down on that path? He hadn’t been in Las Vegas this long since the LAST God of Wrestling tournament. That was well over a year or two ago, his mind slips him. He had no clue why he should even care about anything at this point. He was near retirement age and hell; he should be able to do whatever he wanted to. He slowly took a seat back down and rested. He wasn’t the only one in there.

Anthony: “This is bullshit.”

Local Hippie: “Everything is bullshit, man. It’s a conspiracy, I tell ya! They’ll always be after us. The white man is holding us down, hateful honkies.”

Anthony: “…You do know you are whiter than me?”

Local Hippie: “I’m black on the inside, maaaaaaan. I’m hip to the jiiiive.”

Anthony: “What are you in for old man?”

Local Hippie: “Nothing. I told them to lock me up.”

Anthony: “What? Are you crazy?”

Local Hippie: “Nope. But I know couple of pills that will make anyone crazy. A few LSDs, some weed, and ecstasy makes the world go ‘round, my friend. A little dust never hurt a soul either…well except this one time Jeffrey inhaled too much and had to go to the hospital. DUDE his eyes were so red we thought he was looking at the reflection of a stop sign! Wooooo! Dude it was AMAZING! Should have totally been there.”

Anthony: “Um…sure.”

He wondered who the hell this old man was and why he felt the need to even have communication with him. Yet Chris did want to score a huge bag of weed before the God of Wrestling tournament. Too bad the only way he’d be watching it would be through the little shitty white and black television they had going at the bar down the street. Anthony? He wouldn’t be seeing shit except this old man over here who believes he is being held down by the white man…without being fully aware he IS a white man. Anthony laid his head back against the cold hard wall wishing he could be anywhere but here. Well he fucked up what else could it have been? You don’t storm through Majestic Casinos and expect shit to go well. He knew it and had to deal with those consequences. He could just remember how it went down that whole day. It was pretty bad day from the get go. From the minute the idea popped into his head until now, it was just a real shitty situation.

Situation: Flashback
Location: Las Vegas, Nevada
Scenes open up as Anthony lays in his bed in his hotel room barely awake. He had just woken up, wearing nothing but some black shorts. He rubbed his scruffy blonde buzz cut and yawned. He turned to his side looking at the time. Shit, it was nearly noon. He hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch, he was practically starving. He sat up on the side of the bed, still tired. Last night was a bit major, he didn’t close his eyes until four a.m. Anthony gets up and stumbles out of the bedroom and into the living room where his cell phone laid on the table. You can always tell how fucked up your night was by your text messages. The first one was by Chris Green, “holy shit dude u was so nocked out how teh hell did u wak up 4rm that”. With glaring spelling mistakes and short hand in all, Anthony immediately knew he was pissy drunk the night before. Not to mention the glaring headache he had as he retreated to the kitchen and picked up a bottle of Tylenol. He pulled out a water bottle from the fridge and took two pills.

Anthony: “Shit…this day could have gone better. It would have…had I not walked away from Holly. Man, what the hell was I suppose to do?”

He was torn. I suppose you’re wondering who the hell is Holly and why is he in Las Vegas, Nevada. It started about a year ago. He was hanging around backstage with a couple of his friends. Some hot blonde chick who had just joined the company was wrestling, her name was Holly Adams. While most of the time, Anthony didn’t pay much attention to the divas in SCW, there was something different about her. After one of SCW’s major pay per views came about, they talked backstage. From there they hit it off and Anthony became her official boyfriend. Since then, they had to fight with Chris Lawler who was the father of Holly’s son as well as her high school sweetheart turned massive dickhead ex-boyfriend. Thought things couldn’t get much more amusing? She collapses on stage from an overdose and loses custody of her child. Anthony pushes away and finally breaks up with her. She just came out of rehab and signed with Majestic Wrestling. Good stuff huh?

Well, Holly might be done and over with Anthony but Anthony didn’t quite reach that stage yet. He had plans to get her back now that she was clean of the toxins in her system. Yes, Anthony was practically chasing around an unstable girl who was just trying to piece back her life together. She wasn’t the only one affected by her move into rehab. He was as well, even if he tried to hide it…which he was doing a shitty job at in the eyes of his friends. In AWF though, he walked in Miami with a big grin and tried to hide the pain. So far, it’s worked. He didn’t want that though so he had to find a way back to her. So here we are, with him trying to decide what to do. He already has the balls to arrive in Las Vegas, now how to reach to Holly. They had always been great at communicating with one another so maybe the best thing to do was to sit down and talk with her. Right? I mean who doesn’t want to have a little chit chat with their ex-boyfriend who left them hanging while they were in rehab….shit, this isn’t good.

Isabella, I don’t know where to begin or what to say. Hey, you’re pretty bad ass huh? A flawless record and the championship laying quite content on your shoulder. Nice stuff, kid. I think you are pretty well set but let’s try to look at something, shall we? You and I seem to be at two different sides of the spectrum. You are nested in your little mini-stable of sorts or whatever you call the five hundred people who make a cameo in your little drama shows that you put on for the public. Isabella, listen you don’t know what a hard life is about. You sit there and cry wolf “oh daddy beat me” here and a little crying over there. You had a father, look at the majority of the roster. We come from homes where parents were the last thing most of us are worried about. How about putting food on the table, huh? What about realizing you just might NOT have enough bus fare to head to school for the rest of the year? No, you don’t know about that. You don’t know shit.
You come here with your lies and exaggerations then expect everyone to sympathize with you. For all we know, your dad could have just denied you that Louis Vetton purse you wanted and now you’re hitching up stories left and right to make him look horrible. Give the rest of us a break, woman. Talking about woman, most of you continue this ongoing need to create drama where there is none. Someone walks by and blows their nose; every last one of you begins screaming “SWINE FLU!!!!!” Your drama is nothing more than an on-going story about how you are a victim. You continue to play the victim role but how long will that last? You’ve beaten 13 men; you’ve won 13 times…how the hell can you play victim to anyone at this point? Once again, drama is your cup of tea. Maybe you should try being on Broadway, the ring is no place for a Days of Our Lives session. Hell, it’s no place for you. I won’t deny you have talent, though.
See, what I find unfortunate is that you spend most of it hiding behind Drake and Azreal instead of being your own star. I guess that’s cool…if you want them being credited for your every move. Then again, you feel secure behind men. You feel secure that you can go out and beat up whoever you want and when it’s time for the backlash to smack you straight in the face you have two boy toys ready to take all incoming ass beatings for you. Smart move, Izzy. You know exactly what you are doing, I wonder if those chumps even have a clue, huh? They are probably too busy glorifying your every foot step to even contemplate what they are doing to themselves. That Benjamin kid, he has a chance in the business but he’s too busy playing house with you to get anything really done around here. Me? I have plans. No one knows what I’ll do next and trust me; it’ll be the worst thing possible for whoever is at the end of it. You should know, right Mrs. Martinez? Since it seems Syndicate was on the receiving end of an attack.

How’s that throat feeling? Feeling a little sore huh? I would trust so as Davis did damage to it at Highway to Hell. Maybe I should finish what he started and slam my fist straight into it and watch you flop on the ground like a fish out of water. You are shamefully pathetic and have no business being in the same ring as me much more touching me…regardless whether you are champion or not. I can see it all now, “Isabella Martinez’s winning streak ended at the hands of one indifferent Anthony ‘Glacier’ Thomas. He kicked her ass from pillar to post…slept with Drake’s girlfriend, Catalina, and found time to pin the AWF World Champion all done within an hour!” How does that sound? Good? With a few touch ups here and there, I think it sounds excellent. I’m sure you know better than anyone else the value of being the best thing this company has. You also know the value of keeping at the top of the mountain but what you haven’t become familiar is being at the bottom of the heap. I’ll help you understand that at Massacre.

There Anthony was dressed in a baby blue graphics t-shirt with baggy khaki three-quarter length jeans. He pushed back his avatar sun glasses to his hair line and cracked his knuckles. Here it was. He stood up in front of the Majestic Casino which had just been redone so it could accommodate the arena as well as an upstairs area that is made for superstars to live in. He walked inside the casino where people were gambling away their life savings like a bunch of idiots. They practically handed away their money in a small hope that they would receive more. More than not, they got anything. It amused Anthony as he walked through seeing senior citizens wasting away their pensions as if there was no such thing as an economic recession. He walked to the back and up to the secretary who handled the wrestling portion of the building. He leaned on the desk with a smirk as the secretary finished up her call. She looked up at him.

Secretary: “Sir, the casino lobby is that way.”

Anthony: “Not here for that, I’m here for one Holly Adams.”

Secretary: “Fans usually wait backstage when the show has begun.”

Anthony: “FAN? I am Glacier, a SCW wrestler on leave of absence. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen me before.”

Secretary: “Not in my life, gorgeous.”

Anthony: “I’m Holly’s ex-boyfriend and I just came here to talk to her.”

Secretary: “Sir, we can’t let you in.”

Anthony: “What do you mean you can’t let me in? My friend’s son runs this company!”

Secretary: “Sir, there is no need to raise your voice. I can hear quite well.”

Anthony: “Oh so you think you’re a fucking comedian. Laugh at this.”

He walked off into the elevator as the secretary looks on in disbelief. She grabs the phone and dials for security. Scenes change back to Anthony pressing number two on the button and waiting for the elevator to move up. He thought he had seemingly fooled the secretary and planned to talk to his girlfriend. Ha! There he was, just that much closer to fixing all the shit that went down months ago. He walked out the elevator once it reached its destination only to find out that now he was practically screwed. He had no clue which one of the doors lead into Holly’s room. Knowing his luck, he’d end up knocking on the wrong door and being met with a fist to the face by one of the guys on roster. He looked up and down the hallway and thankfully, he saw one person who might have a slight clue where Holly was. It was one of the Hispanic maids who usually cleans up the area as well as picks up laundry. He walks over to her.

Anthony: “Hey, can you tell which one of these rooms has Holly Adams?”

Maid: “Oh mi ducle nina! She is so nice. She just come out of rehab and she try so so very hard to get back her life. You must be her boyfriend.”

Anthony: “Um…yeah, you can say that.”

Maid: ”Oh alegria! I am so happy to see she has pre-occupied her mind with boyfriend!”

Anthony: “Um yeah, me too. Could you…tell me where her room is? She never got around to telling me.”

Maid: “Oh I am sorry; she is back in her apartment in California. She chose not to have a place here.”

Anthony: “Well shit, that’s…”

Secretary: “THERE HE IS!”

Anthony: “Oh shit!”

The secretary points out Anthony to the security entourage, he hauls ass down the stairs as they barely get out of the elevator. Anthony usually does the chasing but shit, those are some big fuckers. As he about to run past the secretary’s desk one of them grabs onto his shirt. He swing around and hits the guy in the face with a back elbow. The guy begins to bleed as Anthony attempts to run off again but he is tackled down by another security guard and another one jumps on top of that one. They hold him down as he fights to get free. He punches one of them in the face and kicks the other in the gut, as he attempts to get off the floor he is suddenly struck with a strong right hook from the Head of Security, Patrick Reynolds. It was lights out from there as his eyes closed with Reynolds standing above him smirking. Yeah, that’s all the crap that went down and now here he was sitting in a cell hoping that Junior would come and bail him out. Life was fucked like that. Scenes fade away to black.