Thursday, 10 August, 2006 – Cambridge, New Zealand
The build up.
Every defining event has it. Whether it’s a media shower, a meteor shower, or just a normal, hot water shower. There’s always a build up.
Tensions rise. The atmosphere begins to change. You always feel it, but sometimes you only realize that you feel it after it’s already happened. After it’s already too late.
When watching a movie, at the very least the first hour will be spent on the build up. Often it can even reach two hours or more. Sometimes the characters know that it’s coming, sometimes they don’t. It depends on the movie. If you’re watching something like Armageddon, you know damn well that the climax will occur when the asteroid gets real close to the earth and Bruce Willis and Ben Affleck haven’t yet made it explode, because even Bruce Willis can’t save the world from the problem that is Ben Affleck. But when you’re watching something such as Garden State, you don’t know when the climax is coming, the characters don’t know… nobody knows, until it happens. Nobody knows until the strongest emotions have been felt, and resolved. Nobody knows that right then and there, there was a change in the balance of things. A change in the force if you’re a Star Wars geek like me. Your good, your bad… it all changes.
You’d be right to wonder what the hell I’m babbling about. It’s something you don’t understand until you see it, or feel it for yourself. It’s something Lee Stone doesn’t understand. His car pulls up outside a familiar residence. On the corner of Shakespeare and Byron Streets, in the residential section of Cambridge, New Zealand known as Leamington. If there’s one place in the world that Lee Stone can always call home, it’s here. Anywhere here in this country, this town. It’s where he first attended school, first played sport. It’s where he first learned how to write, first learned how to fight. Where he had his first kiss, had his first… you know. S3X! It’s where he grew up, matured from the intellect of a five year old to that of a seven year old. It’s where he first found a reason to fight… first found a reason to give a crap. And it’s where She lives.
Now that could be a reference to two people: Cherie Stone or Mandy Freeman. Take your pick. Lee’s mother or his fiancée. Now the reason he found to fight and give a crap, is most definitely his mother, who raised both Lee and his older brother Stan from small children all on her own. But this “she” is the woman whom he’s about to see once again. Mandy Alicia Freeman, soon to be Mandy Alicia Stone.
Lee steps out of the rented BMW and looks at the building in front of him. Standing two stories above the ground, it stands out from the smaller houses around it. He owns this building, yet somewhere in the vicinity of five people live here. Six if you count his own brief visits. He thinks that he wishes he could be here more often, but like I alluded to earlier, he just wishes he would be back in this town more often. The familiar streets that he knows like the back of his hand. Even with the constant subdivisions being added as the township quickly expands, he still knows it all.
He thinks.
What room is she in? There are four entrances to the building. Two upstairs on a balcony that the outside staircase leads up to, and two on the ground. Originally it was a four apartment complex, small apartments but still apartments nonetheless. However a staircase has also been built on the inside of the right side of the building connecting Lee’s apartment at the top of the building to Mandy’s underneath.
He doesn’t think.
He doesn’t need to think. He heads straight up the stairs and turns right. She will be in his old apartment which now serves as the bedroom for him and Mandy.
He knows her.
And sure enough, he’s right. Forgetting that his gear is in the car and only focusing on her, he shoves the door open and walks into the room. Throwing his arms in the air à la Randy Orton, he smirks. She’s there all right. But she’s packing her clothes into a suitcase.
He doesn’t know her?
“Lee…” she sighs, surprised to see him.
“Yeah, it’s me. Uh… what are you doing?” Lee’s voice is shaky. It’s not often he finds himself not knowing what’s going on.
“Packing,” she says, as she pushes as many t-shirts as possible into the suitcase. Lee now notices another one already packed right next to him by the door. It’s his suitcase. Has she packed his things.
“Are we going somewhere?” Confusion leads to skepticism. Skepticism leads to paranoia. Paranoia leads to mistrust.
“No, I am. Just me.” She avoids holding eye contact with Lee.
”Where are you going?” His heart pounds in his chest. He wants to delay this as long as possible. He hopes beyond hope that the thoughts running through his head aren’t the reality of the situation. She’s still packing though. Is she packing everything? It looks like she might be. No. Lee refuses to allow the thought to gather any momentum inside his head.
“Rotorua.” Maybe it’s just me, but short answers aren’t all too encouraging. Rotorua is about an hour and a half from their current location in Cambridge.
“You got a job there?” He hopes it could even be as simple as a job interview. But why would she be packing all her things? Maybe it’s a long-term job. Like a research project or something. He remembers one of his teachers from high school being asked to do a research project out at an ecological sanctuary that would keep her gone for a long time. The teachers husband (who was also a teacher) got made fun of by students all the time (in good humor) and this only gave Lee and his friends more ammo.
“No. Not yet.” She zips the suitcase up and then looks up at Lee. She’s crying. Why is she crying? Lee walks over and hugs her. She’s tense. What the hell is going on here?
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Lee’s sick of asking questions, but that last one needed to be asked. No more guessing. He wants the truth.
“I’m leaving,” she simply says, withdrawing her body away from Lee.
“Well I gathered that. The suitcases kind of gave it away. When are you going to be back?” He asks, holding on to that last ounce of hope.
“Lee… I…” She can’t find the words to express herself. Lee already knows though. He watches as the hope takes a running jump out the door and off the balcony. Lee sits down on the scarlet duvet on the bed.
“You’re not coming back, are you?” He looks her dead in the eyes, hoping that honesty can survive without hope.
“No.” Her eyes drop away once again, but Lee’s stare is intense.
“Are you going to inform me of what the hell went wrong, or should I just let my imagination run wild and lead me down a path of self hate, derived from a sense of insecurity, which in turn stems from feeling that I can’t hold a steady relationship, yet now knowing why?” All in one breath, his quick rant sounds bitter. That’s understandable though.
“It’s not you, it’s me.” Lee rolls his eyes at the cliché.
“Don’t insult my intelligence,” he barks, no longer keeping his thoughts inside. “We both know that’s the oldest saying in the book. If it’s you, then what exactly is wrong with you? Because God forbid I see a flaw in you! I know you Mandy. I know about the freckle on your inner left thigh. I know about how your mother’s last words to you before she died were “Bring the washing in off the line”. I know how your father’s last breath was taken by telling me to look after you. I know your flaws and I know your good qualities. But even knowing you like I do I have no idea what’s running through your head right now.”
“I just can’t do this anymore.” She’s breaking, but Lee doesn’t actually care right now.
“Do what?” he snaps.
“You’re not home enough. With the XWF back up again, I know I’m going to lose you to it. I don’t want to lose you.” Lee has to fight to look past the tear streaming down her cheek.
“Then what the fuck do you hope to accomplish by this?” he asks, his tone shifting to a less aggressive one, but more desperate. “Because if you walk out that door and don’t even try to sort this problem out like adults, you know I’m not going after you. I don’t have the energy to run after you anymore. I’m tired of running. I just want to stay put, because up until today I was completely content.”
“I… I just don’t know.” The tears flow more readily. It’s water to stone. Each one eroding away at Stone until he feels like a lesser man.
“Come here,” he says softly as he stands with his arms open wide. She staggers forward and Lee catches her. He holds her tight. She’s trembling.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters.
“I can quit the XWF,” Lee says, trying to comfort her; trying to hold on to her. ”It’s no problem, you know.”
“No you can’t,” she says, as she wipes tears from her eyes and takes a step back from Lee. “It’s your life.”
“You’re my life,” he rebuts. “You’re all I want in life.”
“As much as we both may want to believe that, we also both know it’s not true. I’ve got to go. It’s the best thing for the both of us.” Lee bites his lip as she slips out of his arms.
“I’m sorry.” He fights his own tears now. He fights his own fears. There’s somebody else standing in the room with him, yet he still feel so alone.
“I am too.” She kisses his cheek lightly. “I’ll get the suitcase back to you as soon as possible.”
“I love you.” Lee offers this as a final farewell.
“I know. Goodbye.” And with that, she picks up a suitcase and carries it down the stairs. Seeing the other suitcase by the doorway, Lee scoops it up by himself. Exiting the room, he watches as she struggles to carry the case down the stairway. He catches up to her half way down them and takes the suitcase straight from her hands. Brushing past her, her perfume wafts into his nostrils. He feels his legs shake underneath him. The weight of the two suitcases is nothing to him, but he’s becoming weak. A taxi is now on the road. The boot opens and he places both of Mandy’s suitcases inside it. He shuts it and heads back to the building, but she steps in front of him.
Silence.
Neither have anything to say, but they can’t just let the other pass by. She takes his hand and opens it up. Placing something in it, she then closes Lee’s hand back up into a fist. She places her hand on his shoulder as she brushes past him. The hand remains until her arm can no longer stretch out far enough to keep it on there, and the feeling of it sliding off Lee’s shoulder sends a sharp sensation up his spine.
She’s gone.
The taxi’s engine revs up and he hears the wheels squeal a little bit as it drives off. Left standing in the courtyard of the apartment complex, he looks down to his clenched fist. Opening it up, everything becomes too real. Left by Mandy in his hand… is the engagement ring.
Friday, 11 August, 2006 – Cambridge, New Zealand
The curtains are wide open, and the moonlight shining in provides almost all the light present in the room. A small red glow is one corner however as the numbers of the alarm clock do their best to illuminate the darkness. It reads 2:30. It’s very early morning and Lee Stone is awake. Perhaps a better way of putting it would be to say that Lee Stone is still awake. He has yet to even try to go to sleep.
A half-empty glass of Scotch rests on the side table next to his bed. He sits upright on the corner of his bed, staring out the window. Knocking back the rest of the whiskey, he places the glass back on the side table. A small wet circle is left where it used to be, and chances are a new wet circle will be found underneath where the glass is now.
He thinks: the build up.
A two hour drive from New Zealand’s largest international airport in Auckland, down to Cambridge, after a roughly 16 hour flight, and that’s just from Los Angeles. Add the travel time from Ohio onto that, and you have a hefty build up. But did it serve its purpose? The purpose of literature and media is to make us think. Has it made Lee think? Yes… yes it has.
He thinks: the event.
Lee still has no idea what just happened. He understands to the point where he knows that Mandy isn’t coming back. He’s not going to hold onto hope that she’ll change her mind. He’s lost enough times to be smarter than that. But the reason… the reason is still cloudy. His build up showed nothing of the reason. He’s confused, and rightfully so. But he can’t do anything about it. A new thought crosses his mind.
He thinks: the resolution.
What now? Where to now? He hopes the answer to this question is at the bottom of the bottle of whiskey from which he now pours another glass from. Half way through the bottle… half way through the glass… was it half full or half empty? Take it how you want. How does Lee want to take it?
It was half full.
There’s one thing that he’s always used to escape from his problems. The one thing that is consistent in his life. The one thing that is his life: Wrestling.
He reaches for his cell phone, lying on the table next to the whiskey bottle. Flipping it open, he takes some time to find the right number, and then presses call. The answer is almost immediate.
“Lee… how can I help you?” The voice is familiar. It’s Jonathyn Brown. Lee swallows the saliva that alcohol always causes to build up in his mouth.
“Jon. Hey.” Two single word sentences. Not only that, but single syllable words. Way to show the state you’re in Lee.
“Are you okay? You don’t sound too flash.” Is he putting on an act or is it just too early to tell Lee is intoxicated?
“I’m fine. It’s just late. I’ve been thinking though.” Lee forces the words to come out correctly. Luckily for him he succeeds to an acceptable manner.
“About my offer?” Jon asks, rather hopefully.
“Yessir,” Lee replies, running the words “yes” and “sir” together. Perhaps he’s not doing as good of a job hiding the alcohol as he thought. “I’ve changed my mind.”
“You’re in?”
“I’m more in than a quarterback is in with the cool crowd!” Lee exclaims in an embarrassing attempt at a simile.
“Umm… okay.” I think Jon has cottoned on now. ”Call me in the morning, your time. I’m busy right now and you sound… tired. Get some sleep.”
“Sleep is for the weak.” At least Lee is able to keep his words pretty clear when he’s drunk. Sense is kind of lacking, but sense is overrated anyway.
“Okay Lee, goodbye.” Jon says, ending the conversation quite abruptly.
“Bye!” But Jon has already hung up. Lee sighs and then gulps down another mouthful of Scotch. He mumbles something to himself. “Here I go again I guess…”
Wednesday, 27 September, 2006 – Denver, Colorado
Lee Stone sits at the dining table in his hotel room. His home away from home for the past week as the XWF neared Rage in the Cage, and then stayed in town for Anarchy. It’s just one day away now. One day away from the in-ring return of two of the biggest slimeballs the XWF has ever seen, Lee Stone and Andrew Gibson. And then with newcomer Jason Mudd in the mix, it’s going to be a hellacious showdown. This match will steal the show, without a doubt. Lee’s face shows a less than jovial expression. It’s all business now folks.
“First and foremost, BoonDock Saint, stop talking. That’s all there is to say to you and your little mascot. Just plain stop talking. You’re embarrassing yourself every time you open your trap, and every time you utter my name it degrades it. All you’re succeeding in doing is making me want to wipe that smile from your face even quicker. It’ll happen kid, so take a few lessons from Dynamic Dynamite and the rest of these new Hounds who have learned from how things went down with their predecessors. The Hounds stay the fuck out of Lee Stone’s way. So bite your tongue Dan, you’ll be getting your comeuppance soon enough.
I just had to get that briefly off my chest, before I focus on the two men who truly deserve my attention right now, Andrew Gibson and Jason Mudd. This has been an interesting couple of days now hasn’t it? The Past, The Present and The Future all colliding in one epic showdown. We fight tomorrow, but the struggle is happening right now. The build up. Nobody will be leaving their seats during this encounter. Because it has had such amazing build up that they would have to be morons to do so. Or they could just be Ch(censored). Boy I miss the days when that numbskull would bounce around backstage trying to cause all sorts of problems, and then it took the Vigilantes seizing control of the show to stop him. It took Lee Stone’s idea to stop him. But hey, we’ll leave the past where it is. Right Gibs? I mean, there’s no need in you trying to fight your way out of the pit you’ve fallen into. All you’ll wind up doing is widening the hole so you can fit another in it. So you can fit me in it.
Quit that shit right now Drew. I don’t want to be like you. I don’t want to be a failure. You see Drew, you mentioned that everything you’ve accomplished in the past, all the highs in your career, seem to have been overshadowed by the lows. But tell me this… is there any reason that they shouldn’t be? We know what you’ve done Drew, that’s just what makes your fall from grace so much more tragic. But people… people judge who you are, not by what you’ve done in the past, but by what you’ve done recently. We all know the little saying “people change”, and so that’s why a fair judgment can only be made by taking into in consideration the recent events. And recently buddy, you’ve done nothing worth noting. And that… that is going to be the defining thing in the battle between the two of us. You were unfortunate enough to not have somebody to show you the path you’re heading down. Me… I have you Drew. And I don’t like the end result.
For the last three months Drew, I’ve had about one match. But I’ve been undefeated for longer than that. Rage in the Cage 2005 was when I returned to the XWF, after an absence I accredited to Rick Lacey, where I was stabbed in a match against Dynamic Dynamite. So what does that mean Gibs? It means I’ve been undefeated for over a year. Over a year Gibs. You need to take note of that. You need to take note of the scale of competitor I am. I’m not a fluke competitor now. The first few matches could’ve made it seem that way. Hell, even beating T Money could’ve made it seem that way. But as the list of people I beat grew to include the likes of Steve Jason and Trent Gein, I elevated myself to a level above everyone else. Is it ego? We’ve already established that it is, but what I hope you understand Drew, is that I’m not like anybody you’ve ever faced before. I’m the one person who can use ego to his advantage in that ring. I use it to get those fans on their feet, whether it’s booing me or cheering me. I use it to get inside my opponent’s head. To make them feel that I’m an imbecile, and then make them question why an imbecile is pummeling their head into the ground. In that respect Drew, I’m different. Different from you, different from every body else… I am Lee Stone. Nothing more, nothing less. I make you feel insecure about your own abilities, about your own god damn legacy. I am unique, and you cannot come into a match against me the same way that you would for anybody else. It just won’t work.
Here’s a few of the names I’ve beaten: T Money… 504 Boy… Steve Jason… BoonDock Saint… Christian Connolly… Wannabe… Trent Gein... and that’s just naming a few. Now let’s look at who those people are. There are five Universal Title reigns in that list of seven people. All but one are former World Champions, and the one that isn’t is a Lord of the Ring winner. They’re all accomplished athletes, but I’m not using them to boost my own ego here. I’m using them to teach you something Drew. Because what’s the one thing that they all had in common? They all thought that my ego would be my downfall. But did it work for them? No… it didn’t. And as each one of them fell, my ego grew. And as my ego grew, I became more and more dominating in that ring. It’s a trend Gibson… a trend that will continue this week.
Don’t come at me with that “I have more to prove than you or Jason do”. It’s bullshit. And after listening to both you and Jason talk, I’ve come to realize something. The ring that we’re stepping into on Anarchy isn’t a square… it’s a very small triangle. Each of us stands in one corner, with our backs pressed against the turnbuckle pads. Each of us stands within swinging range of the other. And this match is going to come down to who is willing to swing the most to get out of the corner. To get their back of the wall. Jason has to prove he deserves to be in the XWF, you have to prove that you’re not the waste of oxygen that you’ve convinced us all you are, and me… I have to prove that despite what morons like you say, I really am as good as I say I am… perhaps better.
You act as if beating T Money wasn’t an accomplishment… and I agree. The defining moment of my career wasn’t beating him to win the Universal Title, it was having him throw me off the top of the Helldome, forty five feet through flames to bare concrete, having to be resuscitated, and then getting back into the ring within a month. Beating T was simply a personal victory for me, showing that I can take absolutely any kind of punishment and then get back up… that’s my real accomplishment. So the more I hear you talk Drew, the more I begin to think that perhaps we’re not as much alike as the two of us both seem to think we are. Perhaps I’m a new and improved version of you. Perhaps I’m a man who can understand their opponents driving factor, and then still counteract it with his own, as opposed to being somebody who can only see his own driving force.
Here’s a helping hand though Drew. Stop thinking about my sex life and start thinking about my ring work. Start thinking about just why it is that you think you can beat me. I’m the only man the owner can call for help, and I turn him down. Sure I changed my mind, but outside circumstances were at fault for that. And as for needing help, well I’m just plain not stupid, and neither is Jon. One man against many doesn’t exactly work in my favor, unless I learn some Jet Li shit. But I don’t need to do that. Not this week anyway. I’m walking into the ring against two impressive athletes. I know for a fact that I’m facing an Andrew Gibson with something to prove, as opposed to an Andrew Gibson who is barely even there… but that’s not enough to slow me down. I know I’m facing a Jason Mudd with something to prove, as opposed to a Jason Mudd who makes people ask “who the fuck is that?” But that’s not enough to slow me down. This isn’t about an era, this is about my life. And I ain’t going out yet.
Now Jason, don’t you worry now. I may not have as much desire to verbally rip you two new assholes, but you can get your little speech this time. Because Jason, there’s a few things you need to know. The respect you show for Drew and I, isn’t going to be reciprocated. I’ve watched you, I’ve seen you in action. I’ve seen the way you approach your matches. Against Arson things became personal. You knew you were better than him and were out to prove it. Here though… this week… things are a bit muddy, pardon the pun. You cannot stand there and tell Drew and I that you’re better than us. You have no supporting evidence, nothing even close to the resumes that we have. So you show respect. You do what any, good person would do. Recognize where you’re at a disadvantage and praise those who have done what you’ve yet to do. But it’s yet to be tested what effect that will have on your ring work. Against people like Arson, you could take the same exact “fuck you” attitude that your out of ring comments had and use it in the ring. But are you really going to come into the ring with an attitude that your comments so far have shown? Are you really going to come into that ring in a state of awe? I hope for your sake that the answer is no.
There’s something you should know though Mudd, this isn’t your test. This is a test, but not the only one you’re ever going to face. You have the talent, nobody denies that, but you need to realize that every match you have is a test. Every new opponent gives you something different in that ring. Even if they appear to be carbon copies of each other coughBlood Houndscough they bring something new to the table. Every opponent is a test, every time you face them. The XWF is a test. It tests your character, your perseverance. It tests your entire being. Now I won’t make the assumption that you’re greener behind the ears than somebody who actually has green paint behind their ears, but when it comes to the world of the XWF or “Lee-Land” as I now wish to refer to it as, you are a rookie. And this place is different than any other place you ever could’ve wrestled in before. And trust me, as being a guy who has conquered so many companies before this place, I know that to be a fact.
The beauty about being you in this match, is that a loss will do nothing to your rising star. You may not get thrust straight into World Title matches, but your determination and hunger will be fueled by this loss so much that when you do get your turn in the spotlight you will do absolutely anything to make the best of it. Me and Drew have more to lose here. And that makes us more desperate. But I’m not expecting you to be a pushover. Even I wouldn’t be that arrogant. I’m not going to stand here and say that I won’t even break a sweat in this match. I know I’ll have to work, and I know I’ll have to work hard. But I will work hard, and I will win. It’s as simple as that.
Keep your mind of the Hounds, Jason, keep it on me and Drew. I want you at your best. I want to see what you have to offer. Fuck the Hounds. I know your blood boils at the mere mention of them, trust me… I understand that completely. I’ve been there and I’ve pushed past it. But I didn’t push past it alone. Christian Connolly, Alex Cutwright, Chris Cage and even Trent Gein all lent a hand. You need to think Jason. You need to use your head. Don’t walk into a battle against the Hounds on your own. They will crush you… they will break you. Do you want to be Jem Williams Volume Two? Nobody wants that. Nobody wants to experience or see it. Leave the Hounds to the professionals who know how to handle them. These Hounds are jokes. The only one even remotely close to being an original Hound is Star, and she’s over on Massacre. If I can arrange for T and Side to be taken out like they were at Rage in the Cage, Dynamite and Co. will be no problem. But you let me worry about that when the time comes. Because Jason, Drew and I are both paying attention to what we should be. Drew and I have our eyes on each other, and our eyes on you. Where’s your attention at?
Peace…
And the scene fades to black.