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Business As Usual

BWade

Grandma Took Me Home
Joined
Jan 31, 2004
Messages
589
Points
16
Age
37
Location
SC
Website
swordgang.com
Business As Usual, The Prelude (Out of Business)

Backstage; Primetime in Birmingham.

With a draw behind him, and a rematch looming in his future, Kevin can at least take solace in the fact that he is still leaving with the Greensboro title around his waist… well, at least in his bag as it where.

The draw and rematch, alike, aren’t of too much concern to the weathered champion. His mind, these days, have been filled primarily with a mangled confused mess of questions; all aimed at trying to figure out what the hell it is that Nemesis is up to.

The odd run-ins, plus the cryptic messages scrolled across random bar and hotel walls equals out to …

...the hell if he knows. Or anyone else for that matter.

Nemesis has always been a little off the edge. Hell, he used to talk to a chair.

… And although he had always seemed to command a certain clever control over his insanely twisted antics, this time he had returned much cooler, much calmer … a much more intellectual and spiritual being than we had previously known.

That being the fact, if Kevin didn’t think someone might be watching ... he’d be worried.

Everyone should be worried.

While the main event roars on, Kevin has already packed up and readied himself for the road.

But first a phone call.

“Look, I don’t know where you are, if you’ll get this message ... or what the f*** you have planned but here’s how its going to be.”

Kevin paused momentarily to pull from his lit cigarette.

“I don’t want anything to do with whatever it is you have planned. You said meet you here, and I’m here. Show’s almost over and your no where to be found.

Kevin coughs, and then continues.

"Look whatever it is, I’m out.”

Kevin slams the pay phone down on its receiver causing it to ring out briefly, just before the inevitable clinking of coins being deposited upon completion. With another drag of his dwindling cigarette he snatches his bag from the floor and heads for the exit.

The crowd roars on for the main event, as a battered warrior exits solemnly and without fan far.

Black.
 

BWade

Grandma Took Me Home
Joined
Jan 31, 2004
Messages
589
Points
16
Age
37
Location
SC
Website
swordgang.com
Business As Usual, Part II (Last Call)

As the sun rose … Kevin was still sound asleep.

…But hours later, sometime shortly after lunch, Kevin finally rolled out of his seedy motel bed. Tagging the night stand on his way to the floor; he sent a myriad of empty beer cans and bottles, as well as the lamp, on the same path ending in a thunderous crash.

He forced himself up atop his battered, yet battle proven knees for the long walk to the bathroom to take the long look in the mirror that comes with each new day.

He stares into the dull and cracked mirror as if he were taking an inventory of the scars and nicks here and there written across his face like a masochistic biography. Pondering memories of how each came to be, checking for the newest arrivals and of course … deciphering scar from wrinkle.

He cautiously limps back the bed and takes a measured place down on the sagging edge. He rifles through several empty packs of cigarettes until he miraculously finds a lone “stog” amongst the loose tobacco and dismal emptiness. Placing the slightly bent, nearly broken, cigarette in his mouth; Kevin reaches for the phone.

Once dialed the number begins to ring in attempt to connect with the desired party on the other in. This party of course would be none other than Kevin's manager/attorney Jackson Klein.

“Hello?” faintly whispers from the phone in a empty tone.

“Fish Fund, what’s the word?”

“Well, nice to hear from you too Kevin,” the voice answers.

“I’m not calling for small talk.” Kevin takes a drag.

“Of course not …what was "I" thinking. Fish Fund, Sweetwater, Texas. It’s about forty miles out side of Abilene.”

“Klein … I’m from Texas, I know where it is.” Kevin responds back with his patience rapidly dissipating along with the length of his cigarette.

“Yes, yes … that’s right, that’s right. Well you’ve got until the nineteenth maybe you could go back home for a few … wait, what am I thinking… I’m sure that’s not your thing either. Anyway…”

Kevin interrupts, “… that’s not a bad idea honestly.”

Kevin stares off into oblivion for a second or two mulling over the half-hearted suggestion and takes yet another pull from his cigarette.

Jackson Klein appears to be stunned to the point of speechless-ness; momentarily of course.

“Wow… ok, umm… well …” Klein stumbles over his words.

Kevin leans back toward the nightstand; outs his cigarette and moves the phone from his ear back toward the receiver.

“You’ve got a rematch with Troy …” Klein says just before the phone slams down disconnecting the call.

Kevin jumps to his feet much quicker and confident then his previous attempt to get out of bed. With just a few steps and a quick reach for his bag he is out the door and on his way …

Home.
 

BWade

Grandma Took Me Home
Joined
Jan 31, 2004
Messages
589
Points
16
Age
37
Location
SC
Website
swordgang.com
Business as Usual, Part III (Circle of Fire)

Business as Usual, Part III (Circle of Fire)

It seems like ages since Kevin has stepped foot in San Antonio. The Alamo City hadn’t changed much.

Kevin had.

It had been nearly ten years to the day since Kevin had even laid eyes on the city that birthed him thirty some odd years ago.

Showtime in San Antonio; 1999.

Only four short months after his arrival in the Greensboro based wrestling promotion; Kevin found himself back in the River City. A few years older, a few more scars, a lot more tattoos and the newest member of Apocalypse’s UnHoly.

Alas, less than a month after his triumphant return to the place of his birth Kevin would learn Nemesis was in fact his brother from a different father. And just one week later the brothers would be cast from the UnHoly; burned and beaten. Nemesis and Kevin would bitterly feud for the rest of the year until both gradually disappeared from televised competition around the turn of the millennium.

Time had healed they’re faces, mostly … yet they’re relationship still remained strained. But Kevin hadn’t come home for memories. He had come for answers.

Just on the outskirts of the city, in a place urban sprawl just couldn’t quite reach, sat a small weather worn building that housed ‘wanna-be’ and has been professional wrestlers alike. This humble building had served as Kevin’s training ground, his introduction to professional wrestling, and not to mention his temporary salvation.

Orphaned at a young age Kevin found himself wandering the streets and falling in with the, proverbial, wrong crowd. A chance encounter with a middle aged regional wash out led Kevin to what was to be a better life. If only things had actually worked out that way.

None the less, Kevin found himself back in the circle of fire and standing in front of the old red door that led to his nearly forgotten past.

“We don’t want any!” shrieks from behind the door as Kevin slowly calls upon the aging hinges for action.

“I’m not selling anything you old f***” Kevin responds.

An old man turns around from his desk dimly lit by a yellowed bulb glowing beneath a dusty desk lamp.

“Watson?” the old man asks. “It’s you isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s me Bengie. It’s me.”

The old man rises from his desk as quickly as his old bones will take him to get a better look at his old protégé.

“Kevin Watson, you soggy son of b****. You are hands down the biggest …”

Kevin interrupts, “Bengie, spare me the undeserved flattery.”

“…waste of talent I’ve ever drug across that mat.” Bengie laughs a little. “What I tell you about interrupting people, now you look like even more of a jackass than those tattoos can make ya’. What the hell you doing back around here?”

“Fish Fund, in Sweetwater.”

“No s***? I heard you had weaseled your way back to the big show!” Bengie replies.

“…except now the show, ain’t got no show.”

Bengie chuckles slightly in a knowing fashion as he turns back toward his desk, “Well you’d be running the God damn place by now if ya’ hadn’t pissed it all way … dumbass.”

“Hindsight Ben, hindsight.” Kevin replies as Bengie takes his seat. Kevin sits in a chair against the same wall as the desk; resting his arm on the edge.

“I told ya’ learn from my mistakes, learn from MY mistakes! You never did listen worth a s***. You’re a damned fool Watson, a damned fool.”

“I know, I know … ” Kevin responds.

“Well, I ain’t seen ‘em. I know that’s why you’re here. And I ain’t seen ‘em.” Bengie asserts with a certain tone of empathy.

Kevin sighs and puts his hand to face, “I didn’t figure you had. But I had to check … We left on a weird note.”

Bengie looks at Kevin with a blank stare.

“We're talking about your brother here Kev … everything with that boy has been a weird note.”

Kevin smirks slightly at his old mentor, “… you ain’t lying. Thanks Ben, I gotta get out here.”

Kevin stands reaching for his bag.

“Kev, can I see it? I heard you got gold. It’s been a long time since this old man has seen an official strap.” Bengie asks.

Kevin reaches into his bag and tosses his Greensboro title to Bengie, and heads for the door.

“Hold on to it for little while.”

Black.
 
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