February 13, 2013 – The Day Cid Turner Died
Clyde Warner was on the verge of shitting his pants. He was in a neck brace, behind the wheel of his old pickup truck, driving as fast as he could safely go down a dangerous mountain, with an injured SCW Hall of Famer Cid Turner in the back, along with Cid’s ex-wife Elizabeth. He felt like he’d come close to falling off the narrow road several times already and they weren’t even a quarter of the way down. He felt like he was going to kill all of them. His biggest concern wasn’t even himself. Clyde was on the verge of shitting his pants because he felt like he might be the man responsible for the death of Cid Turner.
“Liz,” Cid weakly muttered. He was seriously injured, but ignoring the speeding truck down the narrow road, his life wasn’t in any danger. He, however, was convinced that he was minutes away from entering the afterlife. He felt he’d maybe done enough things to enter heaven. He wondered what heaven was like. He imagined Chad Evans would be there to meet him at the gates. Beyond the gates, what was it like? Would he step through the curtain and be at an eternal Rise to Greatness? Would the higher ups finally allow Cid versus Cid to main event at Rise to Greatness? He hoped heaven was at least somewhat like that. “Liz. I have to tell you something… before I go… you need to know. The people need to know.”
“What’s up, Cid?” Elizabeth asked. She tried her best to keep a casual tone to ease Cid’s anxiety, but it didn’t seem to be doing much.
“Tell everyone that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I ever did. I messed up, man. I messed up so much. I gave up the United States title. I forfeited it. I acted like I was better than it. I wasn’t. I was just scared to defend it. I brought shame to my country, all because I was too focused on the world.”
Elizabeth chuckled lightly. “Yeah, okay, Cid. I’ll tell ’em.”
“I’m not done. Oh, I’m not even close to being done, Elizabeth. Not long after that, I ruined Taking Hold of the Flame. I was so mad,” Cid said, forcing out what could only be disguised as a depression laugh. “Shawn Winters and CHBK were taking my spotlight. So I went out there and ruined the entire show. Then I went on strike because I was scared to death of losing my title. I was a coward. A coward, Elizabeth. I shouldn’t have singled out women upon my grand return. They’re people, just like us. Who knows? They might even be better than us men, as ridiculous as that sounds.”
“Cid, no!” Clyde cried out, trying to resist the urge to look back while driving down a dangerous road. “Please don’t die!”
“Calm down, he’s not dying,” said Elizabeth.
“No, I am… but it’s okay. Everybody dies,” Cid said with an overly dramatic cough. “Guys. Please, tell everyone… I was the entity known as The Hairless Penguin. I have the mask hidden in a box under my bed. I just wanted to feel like what it was like to be a hero. I’ve only ever been hated… I wanted to be a hero.”
“Oh my God,” Clyde interjected dramatically. “He’s completely delusional. The oxygen must be cut off from his brain, creating these—… these insane delusions! Hairless Penguin was a simple former SCW United States Champion, most recently wrestling for SCW’s developmental promotion! The fact that he had the same height, weight, build, general demeanor, and moveset as Cid was purely coincidental!”
“Oh, Elizabeth… I’m such a fool,” Cid continued theatrically. “I’ve lived my whole life, thinking I was born to be the one to take down the heroes. I should have tried harder. Tried harder… to be better. Now, it’s only as I lay dying that I realize… I just wanted to be loved, like everyone else. I wanted to be the hero.”
February 12, 2013 – The Day Before Cid Turner Died
Cid’s neighbor was only Cid’s neighbor in the sense that his home was the closest residential address to Cid’s monstrosity of a house. Before construction began on the king’s castle, the elderly neighbor would get up every morning before the sun even had a chance to rise. He’d prepare his breakfast: a sunny-side-up egg rested upon a slice of toasted bread with a cup of black coffee. He’d go out on his deck and enjoy his breakfast as he watched the sun rise from behind the beautiful Colorado mountains that watched over his home. He worked hard his entire life. Having this moment every morning made all of that hard work well worth it.
He hasn’t enjoyed a morning like that in a year. Not since Cid Turner came to town and erected an eyesore directly in the middle of his mountain view. It wasn’t just in the way of his view. It was literally built into the mountains. Was it legal? Was it structurally safe? Were you able to live at that altitude comfortably? These were the questions on his mind. It was huge, even as he looked at it from his deck. The path up to the gate of Castle Turner started just near the border of his own land. It was a twelve minute drive to the gate. If you had the honor of being let into the gate, it was another three minute drive to the massive double front doors.
Still, he tried his best to enjoy his mornings. He’d still get up at the same time, make the same breakfast, and sit and watch the same sunrise. It didn’t bring the same peace it always had, not only because of the blemish upon the mountain, but because the sunrise didn’t have the same effect as before since the giant neon lights atop of Cid’s house already lit up most of the sky.
Cid Turner’s
KING’S COLOSSEUM
If Cid ever found himself lost while wandering the mountains, he had a night light to help him find his way back.
“HEY, LARRY!”
Cid had ripped his motorcycle helmet off to make sure his neighbor could hear him over the sputtering sounds of his Vespa motor scooter. Cid sat straddled on the back of the Vespa, with a hand rested on his driver’s shoulder to make sure he didn’t lose his balance and fall off of the back of the scooter while shouting at his neighbor.
“LARRY! I JUST CAME DOWN TO BORROW A CUP OF SUGAR! DO YOU HAVE A CUP OF SUGAR?!” Cid threw his head back and laughed dramatically as his neighbor watched on, both angry and depressed at his living situation. “NAH, NAH! ONLY JOKING! I’M JUST COMING BACK FROM CHECKING MY MAIL! ALL RIGHT, I’LL SEE YOU LATER!“
“My name’s not Larry,” he mumbled as Cid put his helmet back on and tapped his driver on the shoulder. The Vespa sped off, beginning the long trip up the mountain as Cid’s neighbor screamed into the cold morning air. “MY NAME IS NOT LARRY!”
It didn’t matter how many rides he’d taken up and down the mountain. There was always the fear that they’d hit an icy patch of road, lose control of the Vespa, and fly off the mountain. The innocent driver would be killed instantly, but more importantly, the world would lose Cid Turner. While being on the verge of a nervous breakdown as he faced death on a daily basis, he often thought about how great it would be to get the boost of fame that comes with being a public personality dying in an accident at a young age, but always came to the conclusion that flying off of a mountain on your scooter and dying – either from the impact of the beautiful rocky mountain against your skull or in the fiery explosion of your Vespa motor scooter – was too scary to be worth the short term glory.
So, he did what he always did and said what he always said. “This is purely to keep us warm and safe from these cold Colorado mountain winds,” Cid said as he wrapped his arms around the torso of his driver. “Drive faster, little bitch.”
It had been just over a year since Cid competed in his final match in SCW, defeating Alexis Rayne at Body, Heart, and Soul in January 2012. The match that stuck with him today though was his second to last match, in which he lost in decisive fashion against Alex Desoubrais, Jr., the son of SCW legend CHBK. For the first time in a really long time, Cid felt a brief tinge of regret for the way he treated another human being.
Friday Night Ammo – January 13, 2012 – One Year Earlier
“You paid off the referee, and don’t look at me like you God damn didn’t, because I know for a fact that you God damn did!”
Alex could only chuckle awkwardly in response. He wasn’t sure if Cid was even serious since he knew he had a reputation of both not taking things seriously and taking others way too seriously. It was an unpredictable situation to be in. He wasn’t sure if he was about to share a laugh with the Hall of Famer or if he was about to get a water bottle thrown at his head.
“Oh, that’s great,” Cid retorted. “This is just hilarious, isn’t it? Do you have any idea how far ahead of you I am? Do you realize that while sharing the same ring with me may be an honor to you, it’s an INSULT to ME?! Do you know how many championships I’ve won here?”
“Three?”
“Four,” Cid stated proudly. “Four championships, which is FOUR more than you deserve!”
“Hey, how’d you get into the Hall of Fame with only four titles?”
“Ohh, good for you,” he replied sarcastically. “Good. For. You. I’ll tell you why, because it’s not about quantity, it’s about quality! You know why you wouldn’t understand that concept? It’s the same reason why your elderly father overshadows you. Because you know absolutely nothing about true, real, honest quality. You are nothing. You’re nothing to me and everyone else, kid. You could die. You could die tomorrow and they wouldn’t even remember to acknowledge you – in memoriam – before they went to air.”
Alex seemed taken aback at Cid unloading himself on him. “Wow,” he began. “I know we’ve been taking shots at each other, and you have your issues with Rachel, but that’s just uncalled for, Cid.”
Cid suddenly snapped. “I BEAT YOUR FATHER! HE HAS NEVER BEATEN ME, YOU LITTLE INGRATE! I BEAT YOUR FATHER AND HE’S A LEGEND! IMAGINE WHAT THAT MAKES YOU IN MY EYES!”
“Has he really never beaten you? I guess I got one up on him!”
On the inside, Cid was on the verge of tears after putting himself in the position for the dagger of a response. He took a deep breath, held any emotion that was dying to come out on the inside, and calmly replied. “I’m going to go now. I don’t want to be held responsible for what I want to do to you right now. I don’t want to end up in jail, like you no doubt will once you realize that the only reason your foot is in the door is because of who your father is, and your life comes crumbling down, and so you get a McJob just to pay the bills, and every single day you get further and further away from this free ride you’re currently getting, and it eats away at you every single day, more and more, until you just can’t take it anymore, and you bring a gun to work, and you don’t even know why, you don’t even know what you plan on doing, but you know whatever it is, you want a gun for it, and someone sees you with it on the security camera because you’re a complete buffoon who has as much real life awareness as you do ring awareness, and they bring you into the little office in the back, they ask you what’s wrong, you start crying, you tell them you miss that high life, that life your dad gave you, but even with your father being who he is, even with that much pull, you just couldn’t make it in the business, and you’re telling your manager this, you’re letting it all out, it almost feels good in a way to finally let out all of this truth, and you thank them for being a shoulder to cry on, you suddenly trust them to be there for you, this might even be the beginning of a beautiful relationship, but they had the other idiot working the cashier call the cops on you while they distracted you with this false act of love and care, and you don’t have a permit for the firearm, they question what you’re doing, you come off as a complete hopeless psycho, you’re arrested, you don’t speak with your dad anymore because of how much of a disappointment you are to him so he’s not going to be there to bail you out, and you’re going to jail, and your life is ruined.”
Cid’s face had started to turn a weird red/bluish color as he wrapped up his run-on sentence. He discreetly caught his breath so as to not show any signs of physical weakness and concluded, “so, that’s why I’m leaving. Okay. I’m leaving. Goodbye.”
“Well, all right,” Alex replied nonchalantly as Cid walked away. “Hey, I’ll see you next week!”
Cid just kept on walking. He kept replaying the conversation in his head, thinking of ways he could have avoided being verbally assassinated. As he walked, the two Staff brothers – Jack and Jeremy – caught up to him, lugging a camera around.
“We got that all on tape! That was great!” Jack exclaimed.
Since before Cid even returned months back, they were in the process of making an independent documentary about retired wrestlers. Cid had been retired until recently and they both saw it as a unique situation for the documentary and a great opportunity for both them and Cid. They were harmless. Even Cid had a small amount of appreciation for them for helping him through this comeback and giving him a lot of potential exposure. Tonight, though, Cid was not in the mood. He kept walking as he spoke.
“Delete that footage,” he demanded. “All of it. You don’t mention my loss to Christy Matthews, you don’t mention my loss to CHBK’s spunk demon, and you delete that last conversation.”
“Oh, we have to keep that, Cid,” replied Jeremy. “That was a great look at SCW behind the scenes. You came off pretty relatable, I think. We all get mad sometimes. We all mess up.”
Cid came to an abrupt stop and screamed into Jeremy’s face, “A COUPLE OF KIDS COULD DO YOUR JOB! POINTING A CAMERA AT PEOPLE FOR YOUTUBE! USELESS! I HATE YOU BOTH SO MUCH!”
Cid continued his walk as the brothers stood in stunned silence. He couldn’t stop replaying the conversation in his head. He saw the light at the end of the tunnel in the form of the exit sign bolted above the door at the end of the building. He was finally going to escape this horrible arena of hell. He almost missed the referee that officiated his earlier match hanging near the door, but the SCW official made the mistake of speaking.
“Hey, Cid, good match out there tonight,” the referee said, without an ounce of malice. “Don’t worry about the loss, or the loss last week to Christy. Everybody loses sometimes, it happens. You’ll bounce back.”
This was the last straw. Cid turned his walk into a full on sprint and he charged the official. He tackled him into the wall, smashing him into a box of equipment as they both fell, spilling a variety of tools to the ground. Cid began beating him on the ground with a series of punches and knees. He got up and grabbed a pipe from the loose debris and started to unload on the helpless referee.
“WHO PAID YOU OFF?! CHBK?!”
Thwack.
“HIS KID?!”
Thwack.
“WAS IT INFAMOUS?! THEY CAN’T HANDLE THAT SOMEONE IS DARING TO TAKE EVEN A SECOND OF THEIR AIR TIME?! YOU DON’T DESERVE THIS ARM, YOU CROOKED BASTARD!”
Cid used all of his strength to get in a few final shots on the ref’s arm. Several SCW officials finally made it to the scene as Cid dropped the pipe, backing up towards the door.
“I quit,” he declared. “I. Quit. I QUIT!” He began stamping with every word, not unlike a toddler. “I QUIT, I QUIT, I QUIT!”
One of the attending officials replied, frustrated that one of his own had just been massacred with a pipe. “You have a match at Body, Heart, and Soul, you idiot! You’re contractually obligated to compete!”
“I-… I GOT—… SHIT! I QUIT! I STILL QUIT! I QUIT!”
February 12, 2013 – The Day Before Cid Turner Died
“I quit!”
Cid leaned further back into the sharpshooter that he had applied to his student.
“Tap! You don’t just verbally admit defeat, you show it! Show the world! Tap, asshole!”
The student tapped, submitting to the master. Cid released the hold and immediately helped the kid up and turned him towards the rest of the class who were all sat in the bleachers on the side of the ring.
“Now, I’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating. What he just did? Submitting? I don’t do that. So, as my students, you can’t do it either. If any of you leave here and go out and get tapped out, how does that make me look? I’d look like a fool. You’re allowed to tap to me, because I’m your sensei and I’m also a master at submissions. That’s as far as it goes. Clear?”
They all muttered in agreement.
“All right, now—“
Clyde Warner ran into the room as a man on a mission, out of breath from having to run from the front of the house.
“Mr. Turner! Your lady friend has just been buzzed through the front gate!”
“Oh. Oh, okay,” he replied, trying to sound as emotionally unfazed as possible. “Good! All right, guys. It’s almost time to wrap up anyway, so we’ll end early today. Don’t go too hard today, we have a big night tomorrow!”
Cid slapped his hands together to officially wrap it up as stepped out of the ring. He jogged over to Clyde, who was eagerly awaiting his master, hoping to be told he’s been a good boy for helping out around the place.
“Okay, I need to get out of this outfit. I can’t see her for the first time in forever wearing gym clothes. Did you bring the outfit I brought home from my PO box this morning?”
“Yes, Mr. Turner,” responded Clyde as he held up a tear away suit. “This thing is amazing. You can just put it on, make sure all the Velcro is in place, and you’re in the suit! Wearing business attire has never been easier!”
“Okay, first of all, stop calling me Mr. Turner. Second, please stop talking to me like you’re in an infomercial. I bought the damn thing, I know that it’s made wearing business attire easier than ever before. It’s revolutionary. That’s why I bought it. Did you bring the pants as well?”
“Pants?”
Cid tried his best not to abuse the students. He’d been teaching classes for several months by this point and prided himself on not losing his temper on anyone. “Craig,” started Cid, incorrectly addressing him. “Don’t do this to me. I can’t go out there wearing a suit with sweatpants. I’m not doing that. I put the pants right next to the rest of the suit. You were supposed to bring the entire thing.”
“Clyde.”
“Cid. Not Clyde, not Mr. Turner. I’m Cid Turner.”
Clyde laughed. “I know who you are. I’m Clyde. I’ve been here since the start. I told you, I have a signed poster of you in my room.”
“Wait, with my autograph?” Cid asked. “That doesn’t sound like me. Are you sure that’s a legit signature? I think you might have been ripped off, Cliff.”
“No, it’s real. I actually met you, it was an autograph signing,” he recalled. It was an important moment in his life. He remembered every single moment. “I waited in line for hours.”
“Okay, that really doesn’t sound like me. When was this?”
“Some point in 2004. It was great. I got to meet you, Jay Gold, and a couple of other guys. You were all teaming at the time.”
“Oh, okay. I’ve pretty much expunged those memories from my brain, so I guess I’ll take your word for it. I’m sorry Jay was there, SCW must have been running out of people to send out.”
“Look, don’t worry about the pants,” Clyde said, hoping to bring things back on track. “She’ll see all of this and it won’t even matter what you’re wearing, she’ll fall for you right there. You built this kingdom. Any girl would be honored to be your queen after seeing this joint!”
He was right about one thing. Cid did build this place. It wasn’t just a house. It was an arena. It was a training facility. It was a corporate headquarters. It was his home.
After leaving SCW, Cid set out to create his own promotion. He would name it Turner Championship Wrestling – TCW – in honor of his family’s backyard wrestling federation from when he was a teenager. As he planned out the business, he stumbled upon several problems. He didn’t want to hire any known wrestlers to work for him because he hated them all. He also found out that in order to book buildings for show, you had to plan and book it well in advance, which was annoying. He also didn’t want to travel from town to town while also having to head back to the office to take care of the business side of things. Finally, he wanted a free place to sleep every night.
The solution was to spend the majority of his career earnings to build a facility that housed everything he needed. There was everything an arena had. Locker rooms, restrooms all around the place, a studio to record skits and promos, and the most important part was where the shows would take place. They managed to build a titantron in the main room and built a steel ramp under it leading to a ring. There were even over a hundred seats and a barricade surrounding the ring. It was small scale compared to what Cid had worked in most of his career, but it was all he needed to run a show.
As for the talent, he decided to hire workers from the independent scene and train them up. The ultimate goal was to create as many protégés as possible, leading to TCW basically having an entire roster of lesser Cid Turners, which he thought would be greater than any other roster in the world. Many weren’t willing to train for no money while waiting for the promotion to start up, so Cid decided the best decision would be to pay them for him to train them and make some of the spare rooms into rooms full of beds and let his students stay in his mansion for free so he always has access to his entire roster.
All in all, it was a series of terrible business decisions.
February 13, 2013 – The Day Cid Turner Died
Cid had been waiting in his hospital bed for over six hours. It was almost midnight. Shortly after arriving, all of the trained medical professionals insisted that he wasn’t dying, but he wasn’t buying it. Not yet, at least. How could he? He didn’t know what was going on, so he assumed the absolute worst. He was convinced he was dying an extremely slow death.
It wasn’t the worst death ever. He had been pumped full of meds to make sure he wasn’t feeling any pain. All he had to do was sit in a machine for what seemed like an eternity, but it was actually kind of cozy. The hardest part was the waiting game. Elizabeth had left his side hours ago, telling him that she absolutely needed to take care of a few things while she was still in Colorado. He didn’t fault her for that. They hadn’t seen each other in so long. It didn’t really matter what happened, she still had a life to live. It did make the waiting harder, however. Alone, for hours. Waiting to be told that he was dying. Even Clyde was gone once he found out an arcade was across the street. He had nobody.
Finally, an old man in a big white coat waddled into the room with a clipboard in his hand.
“Mr. Turner! Welcome to my humble abode,” he said with a chuckle.
“Oh, great,” Cid started sarcastically. “You’re a funny doctor. Oh, you just had to know that I was hoping for the funny doctor.”
“You got the funniest one, kid.”
“Please, don’t call me kid,” he requested. “Can you just tell me what’s going on? If I’m dying, I need to know. Someone needs to call my parents and tell them that I’m not gonna be buried in the family plot. I need to be laid at rest at sea, like a true warrior. I mean, really, the whole world needs to know. Isn’t the world supposed to shut down and go into mourning when royalty dies?”
“Well, lemme see here,” the doctor began. He flipped through a couple pages on the clipboard but ended up looking back and around his feet, seemingly a bit confused. “Hmm… I think I was supposed to have some scans of yours here. I’ve seemed to have misplaced them.”
“Oh, for— look, what’s your name?”
“You can call me Dr. Ed.”
“Great. Dr. Ed. When you’re done here, just do yourself a favor and pack up your desk. I’m reporting you for being absolutely useless. Jesus Christ, how old are you? You look like you should have retired back in the 1950s.”
The doctor let out a boisterous laugh, unfazed by Cid’s nagging behavior. “All right, kid,” he continued, eliciting an eye roll from Cid. “Look, let me just ask you a few questions before we get fully into it. Okay?”
“Go for it.”
“Okay. So, do you have any trouble gettin’ a hard-on?”
A long silence filled the room as Cid stared at him blankly. “Are you a real doctor?”
“Well, my name’s Dr. Ed, isn’t it?!” he asked with another big laugh. Cid realized this was another disadvantage to living so deep in the mountains. The nearest medical facility was the small local one he currently found himself in. He thought that maybe he should have just went to the next one. Might have been worth risking death. He couldn’t help but wonder if the equipment they used to run tests on him was even legit. They couldn’t possibly have afforded real machines. He was in the middle of someone’s sick fantasy. “Seriously though. Is your dick all good?”
Cid sighed before reluctantly deciding he should probably answer. “Yes. Yes, my dick is all good.”
“Hey, that’s great to hear! That’s good news. However, I do have some bad news. You have cervical spinal stenosis.”
Once again, Cid found himself staring blankly at the doctor with no idea what to say. “Okay? What does that mean? How long do I have? Six months?”
“No, no. You’ll live. Well, I mean… you might die. Everybody dies, huh? Not from this, though.”
“Oh, thank God,” he said as he breathed a sigh of relief. While he may have been ready to die, he figured that the world was not ready to lose Cid Turner just yet. “I guess that’s soothing to hear. Honestly, I feel like I accepted death, but now that I’m back in the land of the living, I’m feeling pretty glad, y’know?”
“Oh, yeah, living is good,” agreed the doctor. “Yeah… you gotta be real careful with this, though. You’ll need to get it taken care of. You definitely can’t ever wrestle again.”
Cid jolted back slightly and assumed that he just misheard. “Sorry, come again?”
“Yeah, no way. You’ll have to get a real job. You can’t mess around with this. Honestly, your career choice is probably what got you here.”
“A real job?” Cid asked quietly.
“Yeah, definitely no more wrestling for you. See, the way spinal stenosis works is—“
Cid was no longer there. He wasn’t even sure if this was really happening. This entire place seemed like a hospital simulation gone terribly wrong. This entire situation was just too weird to possibly be reality.
He wasn’t sure exactly how long he had spaced out, but by the time Clyde Warner came back through the door, the doctor was somehow still talking. The doctor stopped to look back, greeting Clyde with a slight wave and gesturing for him to take a seat next to Cid. Clyde could feel the mood in the room. He held a large drink in one hand and clutched a bag of McDonald’s in the other, looking around confused and concerned.
“What’d I miss?”
February 12, 2013 – The Day Before Cid Turner Died
Cid considered cutting Clyde from the roster for forgetting the pants to his tear away suit, but thought better of it. He had to focus. He had invited his ex-wife Elizabeth to Cid Turner’s King’s Colosseum, offering her a tour of the place just a day before they were set to do a test episode of TCW to send out to networks in hopes of being picked up. He hadn’t seen her in person since late 2003, almost ten years ago. After a couple years of post-divorce silence, they would occasionally catch up with each other with a phone call, e-mail, or the occasional holiday text, but they both had their reasons for ending the relationship and neither took any steps to meet up and catch up properly.
On Cid’s end, things were starting to change. He was feeling a mixture of emotions that he hadn’t felt in several years, both positive and negative. He felt compelled to reach out to Elizabeth. He wasn’t even sure why. Was it to show how successful he’d become? To rub it in her face? To impress her? To win her back? He didn’t even know. He bought a tear away suit and was currently standing in the front room wearing at least the top half of it, pairing it with sweatpants, and he didn’t even know what the hell he was doing.
The doorbell rang, echoing through every hall in the house. Cid took a deep breath and grabbed the handle of one of the massive double doors. He leaned back and used all of his strength to open it, hoping he wouldn’t slip and lose his grip, leading to the door closing and crushing Elizabeth like a beautiful bug as she tried to get in. His effort paid off, however, as the door was fully open. He peeked around the corner of the door and standing beside his driver was the former Elizabeth Turner.
She was still the most alluring woman he’d ever seen. She’d aged, but in the most graceful and beautifully mature way he could have imagined. The porcelain white skin that he hoped would never tan was still pretty much flawless. Her blonde hair was no longer resting on her back, it was now shoulder length and still had a stunning shine to it. Her two most prominent features – outdoing her blue eyes – were the ones she always hated the most. Her slightly upturned nose always drew comparisons to a pig as she spoke of herself, but Cid loved it, feeling it made her look like an elven princess when paired with her slightly sharp cheekbones. Then there was her cleft chin, which Cid viewed as the perfect imperfection that brought her entire look together.
Put more simply, he felt she was still hot after a decade. Good for her, he thought.
“Hello, Liz,” he said with as much confidence as he could muster up while simultaneously trying not to spew nervous vomit all over her face. “Welcome to my kingdom, milady.”
She walked by Cid and looked around at the tall ceilings that almost made her feel insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It was like staring into the universe. Her mouth was agape as she continued to scope out the place. Cid’s driver entered the house behind her, which led to Cid subtly going towards him and leaning in.
“If you embarrass me in any way, I’ll kill you,” he warned in a hushed tone. “We’re almost twenty minutes away from civilization and we live in the mountains. They will never find your body. Got it?” The driver nodded. Cid quickly realized that his emotions had probably made him overreact to one of his most loyal and hard working employees. “Look, that was out of line. I won’t kill you. Just don’t embarrass me. Now, close the door. I think my arm has fallen out of its socket from opening it. Go on.”
The driver once again nodded and began closing the colossal door, putting all of his body weight into it. Cid walked up behind Elizabeth, trying to get close enough to catch a whiff of her hair without her noticing. “So, what do you think?” he asked.
“Holy shit…” she quietly muttered in amazement. She turned around and got her first real look at Cid. “Oh my God!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “What are you wearing? I didn’t even notice your getup while taking this place in! Where are your pants?”
“Oh, well,” he sheepishly started his explanation. “They’re at the dry cleaners. I usually wear this suit around the office, but I had to train some guys today, so… I just— well, I kind of had to go business casual, I guess. You know how it is, I’m sure. You drop the stuff off at the dry cleaners, they’re useless, they mess something up, and now you’re showing up to work in a suit jacket and sweatpants. Such is life for a businessman such as myself.”
Elizabeth laughed loudly. Cid would have taken offense normally, but he couldn’t ignore her positive reactions so far. “Are you drunk?” he asked, completely deadpan.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that I’m drunk… but there was free alcohol on the Vespa. I did intend to visit you sober, but you put free booze there and make it a twenty minute drive, you’re asking for your guests to show up with a bit of a buzz,” she explained. “You know your students are probably drunk, right? That can’t be safe.”
“They’re not allowed to drink alcohol. I’m training an army of warriors that represent me, so they live by my sacred codes. Anyway, they drive themselves here. I treat my guests to the Vespa. Most of them just stay here all day and night anyway, I got catering set up and they’ve got their rooms, so…”
“Cid, how do you afford all of this shit?” She had always been a bit crude, but her kind of tomboy attitude made it really easy for someone like him to get along with. She never tried to dress up her words in any false sense of nobility, she was unapologetically herself. Cid had always viewed Elizabeth as ‘one of the boys’. One of the very arousing boys.
“I’m extremely wealthy,” Cid lied. He had been pretty frugal for most of his career and even managed to make some decent money during his last run, but the majority was spent creating Cid Turner’s King’s Colosseum. He was in a rush to get the promotion started so he could start making some of his money back. “Even if I wasn’t… I’d be doing this no matter what, because I’ve found my calling. I thought I found my calling way back when, what with all the wrestling and competing and trying to be the best, but nah. This is what I’m meant to do.”
Elizabeth could sense the conviction in Cid’s words. It was almost surreal to witness considering she hadn’t seen him act like a normal human being in a decade.
“So,” he continued, “ready for the tour? Please don’t drunkenly knock anything over, there’s a lot of history and history in the making in here.”
“Oh, my,” Elizabeth said facetiously as they both made their way out of the room. “Very regal.”
February 14, 2013 – The Morning After Cid Turner Died
Cid hadn’t slept. They didn’t leave the facility until the very early hours of the morning. It was one of the most surreal and awkward car rides he ever experienced with Clyde driving him back up to his home, the neon lights of his stadium sign shining down over them and everything else as they made their way up the mountain. No one said a word the entire time and he was still having trouble processing everything that he was told by Dr. Ed. He did eventually listen to what the doctor had to say, but he didn’t really understand any of it. All he understood was really the only thing that mattered and that was the fact that he wasn’t allowed to wrestle anymore.
Without wrestling, who is Cid Turner? Take away all of his accomplishments and you’re left with a man living alone in the mountains. No friends, no family, no loved ones whatsoever. Being in the ring was an escape from all of life’s problems. How many complete psychopaths found their way into SCW and had a home there for years and years? As long as you put in the work while inside that ring, no one gives a shit about what you do outside of it. So, when entering that ring makes everything okay and makes an otherwise meaningless life worth living, what does one do when they’re forced out of it?
He found himself laying on his living room couch. He’d been there since arriving back home and had yet to move, now well into the afternoon. He ordered Clyde to remove everyone from the house. All throughout the morning, dozens of students passed by with their belongings just after being told never to return, and Cid didn’t even give them the courtesy of a goodbye nod. Now, he found himself all alone in his oversized mansion. Clyde still remained, but he was mostly just there to do the things Cid didn’t want to do himself.
“Hey, Cid? You awake?” Clyde asked while standing above him, despite clearly seeing Cid’s eyes were open. No response. “Hey, uh… Elizabeth just got buzzed in a few minutes ago. Should be here soon.”
Cid just sighed. Clyde shrugged and went to begin the arduous task of opening the giant front doors. After all he’d been through the last couple of days, Cid should have felt grateful that she came back to check on him, but he was finding it hard to give a damn about anything at this point. 24 hours ago, he felt like he might be starting to care too much about things, but it was a welcome change after years of destructive behavior possibly caused by apathy. Now, though, he couldn’t possibly care less. What a difference a day makes.
The doors finally finished creaking open and Elizabeth and Cid’s driver stepped into the palace. She rushed to his side and squatted down to his level.
“Cid… I’m so sorry…” she said. She sounded on the verge of tears. She went from not seeing him for what seemed like forever to almost crying over him over the course of a couple days.
“You sound upset,” Cid said flatly. “Why would you be upset?”
She kind of chuckled lightly. “You know I still care for you. Even before all this crap, you’ve known that if you really needed me, I’d be there for you. We may not have been friends all this time, but I’d like to think we’re still family, y’know?”
“Oh, yeah? I guess. I mean, I haven’t seen my family in years either. I guess it’s a familial thing, to just… not see each other for years, right?”
“Well,” she replied with a heavy sigh, “you know, after everything that happened, it’s not like we would hang out all the time anyway. We still cared for each other, though. We didn’t have to be together for me to see that. I cared for you and I know you cared for me.”
“Did you know that, really? I don’t even know what I care about myself, to be honest. Especially now. What exactly is there to care about?” Cid asked, not actually wanting an answer. He didn’t even know why he was saying all of this. It was clear that he cared for Elizabeth and it was clear that he still should considering she came all this way to check on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to embrace anything about the situation. He stood firmly in his own way.
Elizabeth let out a disappointed groan and stood up, no longer wanting to sink to Cid’s level. “You know how I know you still got a long way to go, Cid?”
“Oh? Yeah, go for it. Shoot,” he urged her on mockingly.
“Well, first of all, you’re acting like a child. Like, as we speak. Beyond that, though. Two days ago, we spent all day together. It was a great day, don’t get me wrong. I can say without a hint of a lie that it was really good to see you. So, let me ask you somethin’. What is it that I do?”
“Nag?”
“Cute. Okay. What is it that I do for a living?”
“Jesus, man, I don’t know,” he said with a whine before taking just a second to think. “Fashion or something.”
“You’re right, you don’t know. We spoke all damn day and you didn’t talk to me about anything other than yourself.”
He didn’t even realize. To be fair to him, he actually did care about Elizabeth and what she was doing. He just got lost in the madness of it all. Ex-wife he hadn’t seen in forever, having to explain everything he’s been through, showing off his colossal house. It was a lot. He still couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward. “Yeah, well…” he trailed off.
“Look, that’s not really a big deal. The issue right now is how you’re acting. I’m sorry this happened to you, but I’m here. I care for you— I’m caring for you. You have three people here who care for you while you’re acting like… this,” she said, hoping to somehow get through to the fallen king. Cid, who had just been staring blankly ahead this whole time, finally turned to face Elizabeth. Behind her stood Clyde in his neck brace and Cid’s driver. It was a stretch to say that his driver cared for him, but she had somewhat of a point. “We had a good talk the other night. You’re on your way, man… but you still really need to grow up. You have to stop getting in the way of yourself. I’m gonna go now, all right?”
“Whatever,” he said bluntly. “By the way, Clyde’s gonna be taking both of you guys down in his truck. None of you are welcome back. Don’t even think about taking my Vespa.”
“All right, Cid. I’ll take ’em down,” Clyde replied with his chest puffed out.
“No, no. You too. You’re all never to step foot on my property again.”
Clyde didn’t say anything. He just let out a weird kind of sad squeal. Cid’s driver shrugged and started to make his way out of the door. Elizabeth looked down on Cid, disappointed. “Okay then. I’ll catch you later, Cid,” she said as she turned to get Clyde. “Come on, buddy.”
“I don’t want to go,” Clyde said sadly, before ramping it up to screaming through sobs, “I DON’T WANT TO GO!”
Elizabeth held Clyde back as he tried to launch himself towards Cid. He was light enough for her to be able to drag him away as he tried to lunge ahead wildly. It was actually a pretty embarrassing sight as the small blonde successfully dragged the grown man through the doors.
“Elizabeth!” Cid called out, back to staring blankly ahead. Elizabeth stopped in the doorway, holding on to the back of Clyde’s shirt as he scrambled in place almost like a cartoon character. Cid spoke over Clyde’s passionate wailing. “I’m sorry,” he said. He actually meant it, but what came out sounded completely apathetic. He couldn’t find the passion to show how much he meant it. Elizabeth didn’t even reply. She dragged Clyde out of the house, leaving the massive door open behind her. Cid could still hear Clyde sobbing like a maniac as they got further and further away, but paid it no mind. He got what he wanted. Cid Turner was able to sulk in silence, all alone.
February 12, 2013 – The Day Before Cid Turner Died
And so, the tour of the mansion was given to Elizabeth. She knew from personal experience that Cid was compensating for something, but the scale of the whole operation was still staggering.
It almost perfectly resembled any arena that Cid would find himself in from week to week in SCW, but it had so much beyond that. Besides the rooms where everyone was boarding, there were also multiple rooms with rings set up so anyone could get work done in the ring at any time. It was overkill when you factored in that the size of the roster was currently under 30. Cid also had several rooms set up and laid out like full offices, complete with dozens of empty desks. He built with the future in mind, assuming that at some point the promotion would be too big to handle on his own, at which point he would pass down all of his business knowledge to the same people he passed down his wrestling knowledge to, and the entire organization would be trained in both aspects of the business by Cid himself. It was a plan that – in his mind – could not possibly fail.
Then there was Cid’s bedroom/trophy room. It held everything that was important to him. All of his championship belts and his crown were lined up on a mantle. His royal throne – minions to carry it on their backs not included – sat underneath them. His set of armor was set up next to the throne, flanked by both his spear and his scepter with his face printed out and wrapped around the orb.
Despite all of that though, across the room and against the wall is what caught the eye of Elizabeth. “Explain,” she said, pointing towards Cid’s bed.
The bed itself was typically regal, but what made it stand out from everything else in the room was the four bed posts. On each corner of the bed was a turnbuckle, all four of them connected together by a ring rope. His mattress represented the canvas of a ring.
“Well… the ring is where I feel most safe and at home,” he explained. “It’s an easy place to sleep, you know. It’s seen its fair share of in-ring action too, if you know what I mean,” he lied.
“Ohh, I get you.”
“Some submission matches.”
“Oh?”
“Two-on-one handicap.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, hoping he was moving on soon.
“TLC match. I’ll bring the wood. Eh?”
“Ha. Yeah.”
“Couple of strap matches,” he continued, hoping to get as much mileage out of this as he could.
“Wait, what?”
“First blood.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“No, you’re right,” he finished. “So, what do you think?” he asked. Not only did he desperately want an outsider’s opinion on his business plan, but seeing her possibly experience a mix of both pride and jealousy at what he’s become would be great ammunition to bring to the battle that is speaking to his immediate family, who always questioned his failed relationship despite any success he found in the business.
“Well, it’s a bit childish. It reminds me of one of those race car beds, you know? I gotta admit though, it’s kind of cool. I mean, it’s certainly unique.”
“Childish? Is it childish to want a serene environment to rest in? You—… okay, you know what? Never mind. That’s not what I meant. I meant, you know, all of this…” he said as he gestured all around him. “Everything. My ambitions, my teaching, my students, Cid Turner’s King’s Colosseum. What do you think of the whole royal package?”
“Do you have to say the full name every time?” Elizabeth asked as she chuckled.
“Seriously,” he said as he took a seat on his bed, feeling the familiar resistance of a ring rope underneath his bottom. “What are your thoughts on my empire?”
She followed his lead and went to take a seat on his throne. “Well,” she started as she took a seat. It took a Herculean amount of effort for Cid not to scream at her for treating his throne as just another seat in the house, but to his surprise he was successfully remaining on his best behavior. “Oh, wow, that’s comfy,” she said. Cid was directly across from her, trying his best to force something that resembled a natural smile on his face. “Well, first, I gotta ask. What’s the deal? What brought all this shit on? Why the hell are we on top of a mountain right now?”
“It’s been so long… I really wanted to see you.”
She burst out laughing. It was so sudden, it was startling. “You idiot, I mean you. Specifically, you. You told me that you went back home. I’m not gonna watch the stuff, but I know you feel like it’s your home. What happened in that couple of months to make you decide you’d rather live in the mountains like a maniac mountain man. You’re just missing the overgrown hair and beard! Is this a midlife crisis?” she asks, taking a second to take in her surroundings, including the throne she sits in and the wrestling ring bed opposite her. “Well, I mean, more of a midlife crisis, I guess,” she laughed. “An intensification!”
Cid couldn’t tell if she was having a tipsy laugh or if she was just a bitch. “If living like the king you are is a midlife crisis, then get me some young tail, some hair plugs, and a shiny new sports car, because I’m all about a midlife crisis.”
“The scooter is great fun, at least. I’ll give you that.”
“And SCW isn’t home, by the way. If I ever said that to you, I must have misspoke, because that’s so far from the truth. You know what SCW is? I mean, really, what it is to me?” he stalled as he tried to think of a reason to cover up his lie. Of course SCW was his home. Once he got his break, it was the only place he ever worked for. No matter how much he hated the majority of the roster, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about them and interacting with them. He treated all of them the exact way he treated his family, which was to say not great, but they were still a major part of his life that he needed. SCW was his home and everyone there was his family. It was something he’d probably never admit. “SCW’s a… platform,” he finally replied. “SCW’s a platform that I can use to spread my message and become renowned for it. After a certain point, I’m bigger than SCW. I’m not just a big fish in a small pond. I’m a Goddamn whale.”
“So, you think you did all that you needed to do?” Elizabeth asked. Cid gave her a nod in return. “You were there for, what… three, four months? Like, if that? You came back after spending years away and you fulfilled your master plan in a few months? Then you immediately started construction on a weird ass mountain house. Be real.”
Cid was caught off guard by her honesty. It wasn’t exactly a biting observation, but he’d spent the last year surrounded by people that not only admired him, but were being paid and given a place to live to do so. At this point, anything other than constant praise was a shock to the system. “Well, of course. I always succeed on my quests.”
“Sounds like you failed, dude.”
“Oh,” he mumbled. Cid would usually find himself unleashing a wordy and defensive rant in response to such a claim, but there was something different about hearing it from an outside party, especially in the form of the only love in his life. He felt vulnerable, but instead of reacting with anger, he continued to hold a rare human conversation. “I mean, failure is a harsh word,” he started, trying desperately to cover up his shortcomings in his most recent run. “I wouldn’t say I failed… but, I mean, I guess it—… well, I guess it wasn’t ideal. I probably should have stuck around longer. Done more. Made more of an impact. So, yeah, I guess it wasn’t everything I imagined it would be,” Cid admitted. He suddenly felt heavy in his chest. He wondered if it could be heartburn. He tried to think back to what he had eaten earlier in the day.
“Just from an outsider’s perspective, it didn’t sound great. Y’know?”
“Well, it started with that bitch Rachel Foxx. Then that bitch Alexis Rayne. There was also briefly that bitch Christy Matthews. Don’t even get me started on CHBK’s little bitch runt, I—“
“Whoa, whoa,” she said as she held her hands up, prompting Cid to put on the brakes. “I’m not talking names. These people mean nothing to me. Like, I’m sorry you had to deal with ‘bitches’, but I don’t know these people. I’m asking about you,” she clarified. She’d never been a fan of the sport and had only caught a handful of Cid’s matches, most of which were before SCW. “Something happened to you, and I’m not talking about you getting punched in the head or going through a table. It was your decision to leave, no one else’s. Tell me what was going on inside, Cid,” she prodded. Her tone had shifted from being playfully forceful to being legitimately caring.
Cid chuckled nervously. “What the hell are we talking about? Inside? Inside, I—… I—“ he stumbled around his words, trying to think of a way to deflect. Elizabeth kept eye contact without saying a word. After a few moments, Cid reluctantly gave in. “I mean, a few issues came up, I guess. My friends were preoccupied with one of the aforementioned bitches. I… returned and the show was cut off the air before I could address the world. To be fair to them, I guess I didn’t technically have a contract at the time.”
“You’d shown up without a contract? I think that’s illegal.”
“Well, yeah, they weren’t returning my calls at the time,” he explained, immediately realizing how the situation sounded now that he had actually explained it out loud. “Well, wait… that sounds bad… but it’s fine, we figured it out eventually. Anyway,” he continued with a heavy sigh, “there was them putting me on the opening of the show my first match back too… it’s just—… I thought I had earned my spot as a main eventer. I was in the Hall of Fame. These things keep happening… eventually, I guess you kind of, like… I dunno.”
“Start feeling down? Lose some confidence?” she guessed.
Cid stared at his feet and took a moment. Finally, he looked back up at Elizabeth and openly admitted something that he’d been trying to hide ever since he returned to SCW in 2011. “Yes,” he said. “I lost confidence in myself.” His chest felt heavy again. He was having some trouble remembering what he had eaten while also trying to hold a conversation. Too many carbs? Was it something spicy? “I felt like nobody wanted me. My own friends shunned me. More than my own friends, really. My own child.”
“Child?” she asked.
“Yeah. Matt. Look, you wouldn’t understand. Point is, though, any other time in my life, I’d use that as fuel to be a better performer. I’ve done it my whole career. I’ve fed off of the doubt and hatred of others. I’ve successfully made a living doing it. This time though… it just wasn’t happening. Every time I went out there, I doubted myself. Even if I was successful, all I could think about was how I just got lucky, and how the next time, I wouldn’t. The worse I felt, the worse I reacted. So, the first time I got a taste of actual failure, I lost it. I lashed out at everyone in my path and I beat an innocent old man with a pipe.”
Elizabeth’s brows furrowed at the mention of an old man being beaten with a pipe. This wrestling business. What a business it is.
“It didn’t even matter that I won my next match,” Cid continued. “I was finished. I couldn’t go on every week feeling like I didn’t belong in the ring. Every single week, dreading to see what they’d throw at me next, thinking there’s no possible way I’ll be able to overcome whatever obstacle they put in front of me. I mean, look… when you’re looking for Stacy Kissinger to protect you from your enemies? You know it’s bad. I’d like to think that I was starting to get good at pretending, but I’ll be completely honest. I could no longer continue living in that environment.”
They both sat in silence briefly. “Well… shit, Cid,” she said, surprised at seeing a side of him that she hadn’t seen since they married in their young age. “It makes sense. You said it yourself, you lost confidence. Losing confidence as a competitor in sports can be deadly. The human mind can really screw you over. It sounds like shit just finally caught up to you. Don’t even worry about it. These are normal human feelings. You’re just learning how to deal with ’em later than most people, I guess.”
“You know what’s kind of messed up?” Cid asked. Now that the ball had started to roll, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “I remember my friend, Chad… he taught me to just look after myself. I looked up to him and I’d say we were even friends. He said to me a long time ago, ‘assume that nobody gives a shit about you, because the truth is, they probably don’t. Nobody’s more important to you than yourself and you can’t only act like you feel that way, you actually have to feel that nothing or no one else matters, deep in your soul,’ and I tried my best to follow every word of his advice.”
“That sounds a bit harsh,” she chimed in. “I mean, you really followed everything this guy said?”
“He had a way about him. I dunno. I really looked up to him. He was just awesome. It’s hard to explain.”
“You know, Chad sounds—“
“Amazing. I know. I’d say it helped turn me into a champion, but still… like, imagine that. My own friend, telling me that you shouldn’t care about anyone but yourself. I’m starting to feel like I should’ve looked up to some better characters. Or just believed in myself,” he said, taking a moment to think. It sounds so easy, to believe in yourself. If he believed in himself, maybe he could still be with SCW today. “I don’t know. Either way, I’m trying to change. I’m trying to teach these guys, trying to start up my own place. The fire is still there, y’know… the desire to compete and to win. I just don’t think I’m capable anymore of satisfying that desire within the confines of the ring.”
It felt like he’d been kicked through the heart. Cid was now sure that this wasn’t related to his lunch, but was wondering if he felt this way because he was upset at showing vulnerability or if his body was celebrating the fact that he was finally letting it all out. He didn’t like knowing whether what he was experiencing was good or bad, and he found himself wishing he didn’t entertain Elizabeth with the conversation.
She, however, felt like she just witnessed a major breakthrough in a man who had been living a spoiled child’s life for so long. “That’s good though,” she said. “You’re taking your experience and passing it on to people. Really, that’s kind of noble. Noble. Like a king!”
“I’m trying. I might pop up in the ring every now and again, but I’m trying to focus more on the future of the sport and I’d like to have a hand in it, but… I think I’m done competitively. Well… I dunno. It’s just hard to imagine.”
“Nah, you’ll give it another go. I know you will,” she said with confidence. “You’re not exactly at retirement age. Cid, everyone feels insecure sometimes. I know I do. Thing is, you just try the best you can and push through it. Try not to stress about the end result, just try your absolute best and be proud of yourself and the work you put in, and you’ll feel rewarded in the end. Win or lose, I promise you, you’ll feel good.”
Cid’s initial reaction was to feel disgusted that he just received a basic pep talk, but promised himself that he’d at least try and think over what she said. “Yeah, well… it’s fine.”
“Seriously. You’re showing signs that you’ll overcome this. You’re taking the right steps. You’ll get in that groove again. Who knows, you might even go back to SCW. Who says you can’t do both this and that?”
“Yeah, maybe,” he mumbled in return. He was starting to feel embarrassed at showing signs of weakness. He wasn’t sure why he had opened up. He wasn’t sure why Elizabeth was even here. He was wondering what the hell he was doing.
Elizabeth got up from out of the throne and stretched her arms into the air. “Well, hey, Cid, it was surprisingly great to see you again,” she said as she finished her stretch and headed for the door. Cid got up and went to meet her at the door. “I should probably get going though. It’s a long Vespa ride to the bottom of the mountain and an even longer one to the hotel. I’m only in town for a few more days and I feel like going up and down this mountain will end up taking most of my time away, to be honest.”
“Oh, yeah, well… no worries. Nice to catch up, at least. I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve seen you in person.”
“Well, hey, we’ll do it again sometime,” she promised. “I’ll keep in touch.”
“Good. Good, good, good,” he repeated awkwardly. “Good.”
She chuckled and opened the bedroom door to leave, but Cid put his hand on the door, keeping it from opening any further.
“Liz,” he started without really knowing where he was going. She let off the door, letting it close in front of her. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” he said with a lump in his throat. Was he about to puke on her? He hoped not. “I’m sorry for not caring for you because I was too busy thinking about myself.”
Throughout all of his career, if Cid wasn’t extremely happy, he was miserable. He’d never cry though. No matter how many losses he went through, no matter how many tantrums he threw, he’d never broke down to the point of tears. He couldn’t even remember crying as a child. Now, though, for the first time that he could ever remember, Cid shed a single tear.
“I’m sorry for not listening to you and taking what you said seriously,” he continued, as another tear found its way out. “I’m sorry for acting like you were in the wrong in any possible way. I just… it was hard for me. I had to act like I was better than everyone while also trying to act like a real human being to others and a real husband to you. I only got worse after we broke up. I don’t know. I split myself apart. I just couldn’t handle it. I’m sorry. I’m seriously sorry for everything.”
“Oh, Cid, it’s—“
She was cut off as Cid embraced her and laid his head on her shoulder. He’d gone from stoically shedding a tear to outright sobbing. “I’m so sorry! I thought you ruined me, so I blamed everything on you and I took it out on every woman I’ve met since then! I’ve treated them all as horribly as I treated you and I’m sorry! I don’t deserve my stupid crown!”
He continued wailing. Elizabeth felt extremely awkward, but couldn’t help but feel bad. It was a night of firsts for Cid and it was clear to her that he was growing up. He still had a long way to go, but he was trying.
A few moments went by and Cid started to quiet down until all that was left was some sniffles. He had finally let it all out after holding back emotionally for the better part of a decade, maybe longer. Elizabeth gave him a pat on the back and lifted him off her shoulder, bringing his head up to hers. She may have been tipsy off of some free motor scooter alcohol. She may have been nostalgic seeing her first love despite any surrounding circumstances. She may have just felt bad for Cid. Whatever it was, she felt compelled to lean in and kiss him, and so she did.
Cid wasn’t even sure how long the kiss lasted. He felt like his brain was overloaded from everything going on the entire day and with what was still to come tomorrow. He started to wonder if he had been driven off of the mountain, falling to his death, and everything that followed was simply his afterlife. Next thing he knew, his tear away suit was ripped off (quite easily, in fact – what an invention!) and he was thrown over the top rope on his bed by Elizabeth. It was quickly turning into his favorite reverse battle royal match ever. She hopped on the bed with him and began to crawl her way up. She stopped though, as a photo on Cid’s nightstand caught her eye.
She had to ask. “Sorry, just quickly… what is that?”
Cid looked over. Staring back at him were the faces of himself, Matt Hodges, and James Exeter. It was a framed photo of Team Turner. None of them looked thrilled to be in the photo, but it was the only picture he personally had of them all together during their extremely brief tenure. He reached over and set the picture face down.
“Sorry. Just my kids. They don’t need to see this.”
“Um… okay,” she said, not feeling in the mood to pry into whatever that was. She continued up to Cid and pushed his shoulders down, pinning him to the bed. As she got up and straddled him, she took a moment before going the full mile. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he responded, and he meant it. It was probably the mixture of being with a woman for the first time since the early 2000s, being back with Elizabeth, and being in the middle of a night where he was finally letting everything go, but he’d never felt more obedient in his life.
She leaned in close. What was an attempt at a flirty joke came out more a lot more sensual than she expected, as she whispered in his ear:
“Can you call me Queen Elizabeth?”
Present Day
Cid sat upon a stool with a dark grey screen behind him, a light shining down towards him to light him up for the camera. He used to love being in this position. It came so naturally to him. Stare into the camera and rip apart your opponent while letting them know that you’re going to beat them at whatever show they were unfortunate enough to find themselves on against Cid Turner. Who wouldn’t want to stare at a camera for several minutes, explaining that they’re the best and everyone else sucks?
“You ready?” Clyde Warner asked from behind the camera.
Well, at this point in time, Cid wouldn’t. How would he even begin? He didn’t believe that he was the best. He didn’t believe that everyone else sucked. The problem with his self-confidence issues weren’t just that he felt low about himself, but that everyone else seemed so much better by comparison. He couldn’t spend time talking about how much he sucks and how everyone else is the best, though. He’d be laughed out of the company.
Cid sighed before replying, “yeah, I guess. Been awhile.”
“You’ll be fine. We’ll just jump straight into it, yeah? Okay, rolling now.”
The red light came on. Cid sat up straight, puffed his chest out, and began his first promo in over eight years.
“All right, well, hey guys. But you know what’s really bothering me today? No, I mean, I— yesterday. Well, it’s been bothering me for awhile, it— well, just— I just think—“
The red light went off. “Okay, let’s just start again. Let’s start fresh,” Clyde suggested as he peeked over the camera at Cid. Cid gave him a nod as the red light came back on.
“Heya, guys. Well. It’s that time of year. Time for the newest— the next pay-per-view in SCW, I know it— no, we know it as Rising to Great— no. Rise to Greatness. Syren? I tell you what. You may be all good and… and good looking too, but when it comes to the ring? Well. There’s no one better than me, Cid Tur— well, wait. no. You’re better than me. But that doesn’t matter! No! Any given Sunday, is what they say. That’s right, and I’m tellin’ you now, Sunday, at Rising to— shit, no. Sunday, when we Rise to Greatness, sister? Well. Sunday will be any given Sunday. I’ll be givin’ you a loss! We’ll see you then. Asher and I, I mean. Asher will be there too. Okay. I’ll see you then. I mean, we will. We will both see you and Ravyn there, okay? Thanks…” Cid paused, looking into the camera like he just saw his mother get killed right in front of him. “Okay, shut it off. I’m done.”
Clyde shut the camera off once again. He tried his best to show Cid a false smile, but he just look concerned. “Well… that was… different.”
Cid took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. “Jesus. Was that okay? How long did we run?”
“About… fifty seconds?”
“Oh, shit,” Cid said as he leaned back and rested his palms on his face. Fifty seconds? That felt like at least five minutes. He brought himself back up straight, taking his hands down and looking at Clyde. “What the hell do I do? That’s not enough.”
“Look, dude. Don’t think of this the same way you used to. Just speak your mind.”
“Speak my mind? Tell everyone I don’t know what the hell I’m doing? Tell Asher that he’s probably going to have to defeat Dark Fantasy on his own? Tell Syren and Rayvn that they’re amazing and that I’m scared they’re going to be responsible for paralyzing me in front of thousands of people on the biggest stage of wrestling? Forget paralyzing me, these girls might kill me!”
Clyde scratched the back of his head, worried about how a promo like that would come off. It didn’t exactly hype the match or instill fear within Dark Fantasy. “Well, maybe don’t say it exactly like that… but, listen. There’s something to be said with being open and honest with your fans. Just don’t be… too honest. Let everyone in SCW know why you’re back. Just… tell the world what you’ve been thinking.”
He just explained what he’d been thinking and it was terrible. Clyde may have been right though. There might be a way to dress it up in a more optimistic way. Being optimistic was no longer a strong suit of Cid Turner, however.
“Okay,” Clyde started up again. “I just deleted all of that to make sure that never sees the light of day. Let’s… well, yeah, let’s make sure no one ever sees that one. We’re not taking chances here. Now, just take a deep breath… and get this shit done.”
All right, Cid thought, closing his eyes. Deep breath. Just… open up. Be real. You’re Cid Turner… evolved. He opened his eyes as Clyde whispered from behind the camera, beginning the countdown.
“Three.
Two.
One.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about Canada lately.”
Cid sat hugging his knees in the janitor’s closet located in the Canadian Tire Centre in Ottawa. He was officially signed to SCW once again and was welcome in the locker room, but it didn’t matter. He was terrified. He didn’t want to be spoken to, or even seen. He could hear Disturbed booming through the arena, accompanied by thousands of people booing. Sure, Disturbed sucked, but that’s not why they were booing. They were booing because Infamous was on their way to the ring to call out Cid Turner… SCW legend. Here he was, hiding in a broom closet.
“I have to say, as someone that was once referred to as ‘King America’… Canada is so damn important to me. How could it not be? It’s my second home. I mean, I’ve been in SCW since day one. That’s not an exaggeration. Literally, day one. I’m talkin’, like… Monday Night Mayhem, 2003. Steve Griffin defeating CHBK in the main event of SCW’s first ever event. I remember watching that match in the back. I couldn’t even be upset at the fact that I wasn’t on the card. It didn’t matter. I knew I was witnessing an uprising. I was watching actual living legends like CHBK working their asses off to put SCW on the map, and that’s exactly what they did. I was a part of that and – at the time – that’s all I needed.
Now… as time went on, I may have become more outspoken. I did some horrible things to leave my mark on SCW. I’ve preyed on the weak… ducked the powerful… and turned on my own friends just to build a legacy. I even lashed out at the company itself, not satisfied with what they gave me. After a certain point, anything they would give me wasn’t enough. If I was US Champion, I needed to be World Champion. If I was in the main event of Rise to Greatness, I wanted to be in it alone, wrestling myself in what I assumed would be an instant classic. If I was given another chance to return, I had to be the focal point of the show. Nothing was ever enough, and I let them know it. Despite all that, though… I think the truth is, I love SCW. This will always be where I belong. SCW is my home.”
He could hear Ravyn’s voice, slithering like a sinister snake throughout the building. She sounded so calm, yet so menacing. So calculating. So manipulative. It didn’t matter that the words didn’t ring clearly through everything else in the arena. He could sense the dominating tone of Ravyn.
A cleaner opened the closet, looking around for a fresh mophead but instead finding the mopheaded Cid cowering in the corner. “Hey, you can’t be in here! Get outta here!”
“Huh?” Cid blurted out while looking up at the janitor. “Oh, no. I work here. Sorry… I just needed a place to hide.”
“Hide? Ah, shit… whatever, you’re fine. Just hand me that head there by your feet and I’ll get outta your hair.”
Cid handed him the mophead and went back to clutching his knees into his chest as the cleaner closed the door behind him.
“So, what do you do when someone threatens your home? Your natural instinct is to protect it, at all costs. I look at Infamous and I see a threat to my home. Sure, it’s not the incarnation that I remember. Fewer in numbers, but that’s not a negative. You guys thinned out the herd. Infamous is now left with the absolute best of what they had all those years ago. And yeah, I’m sure at some point during my absence, you guys found yourself standing on the right side of history. I’m sure that the people were just aching for a reason to cheer the greatest SCW star in history, along with the greatest tag team in SCW history. I’m sure you granted that wish somewhere along the way.
Now, though, you’re back to doing what you’ve always done. You’re back terrorizing SCW and every person within it. You’re back to scheming and doing whatever it takes to make sure that you’re the focus of every show and on top of the company… and let’s just be honest, this is your true self. This is what you always have been and what you always will be. You’re a group of arrogant, manipulative, sneaky, self-absorbed, artificial human beings. I’d like to think that everyone knows this, but who knows? Really, it seems like people like you in the world always end up at the front of the parade, somehow. I wonder why that is. Is it easier just to ignore such an overwhelming force? Or are people just blind, looking up to whoever is more beautiful or rich than them? Do they just see these people on TV and think, ‘yeah, they’re on TV, they must be doing something right’? I dunno. I know what you are, though. For me, it’s really easy to see your true selves, because you all just remind me of myself.”
It seemed that Syren had now taken the microphone. While he could only hear remnants of what she was actually saying, her compelling voice – with its rich, beautiful timbre – circulated throughout his entire being. Her voice matched her looks and her skills. It was perfect. She was perfect.
When Cid saw her, he felt like an absolute nothing. Never before had he stood before someone and felt so small, despite being almost a foot taller than her. It was an extremely jarring feeling. She was everything he wanted to be his entire career. Rich. Successful. Alluring, in so many ways. She was the greatest competitor to ever step foot in an SCW ring, and second place wasn’t even close. He felt that his being in the SCW Hall of Fame was a disgrace, given that he was enshrined with the likes of quintessential stars such as Syren. Comparing their numbers, Cid Turner was a joke. Nothing more than a footnote in the history of SCW.
The mood changed in the building once the music of Asher Hayes hit. The boos disappeared, making way for a host of people cheering for someone that had been trying his best to stand up to such a tremendous force in the form of Infamous.
“And myself… well, I’m not a great person. I could easily see myself beating the hell out of a mouthy guy like Asher Hayes, once upon a time. The older you get, though, the wiser you get. Or, at least, I’d like to think so. I dunno. I’ve had a long career, man. I may not have always been in the spotlight or even an active competitor, but I’ve been doing this for over twenty years. I look back at everything I’ve done and it’s hard to be proud. Sure, I’m proud of my accomplishments. I’m proud to be in the Hall of Fame. No one can ever take that away from me… but what if I could have been more? What if I put in more effort into my career, instead of constantly trying to take shortcuts? What if I had the potential to be Syren… or even Ravyn? Maybe I could have gone down as one of the greatest talents SCW has ever seen, much like them.
I guess that’s gone now, though. I’ll never know my true potential. That’s fine. I can’t change the past. All I can do now is use what I have at my disposal to build a better future… and to fight for – and beside – Asher Hayes is to fight for a better future. By working together and taking out Dark Fantasy, we’re fighting to build a better future. A future without Infamous is a future worth celebrating.
I have to thank Asher. I’ll come out and admit, I didn’t arrive at Breakdown after Taking Hold of the Flame with the intention of saving Asher Hayes. Truth be told, I’d completely forgotten who he was. I arrived with a purpose. That purpose was to punch CHBK in his stupid face. I never thought I’d be teaming with Asher. I never thought I’d even be going up against the rest of Infamous. Now, look at everything that’s transpired since then. Asher and I are a unit. An A/C Unit. We’re having our first major tag match together against maybe the most notable tag team in SCW history… and without Asher, it’s honestly possible that I wouldn’t have come back to SCW. I could have laid out CHBK and called it a day. I could have left Asher to get his ass kicked week after week. I could have never been reborn.”
He couldn’t let it happen again. Last week, he waited to reveal himself until Asher was already battered and laid out in the ring. Hearing Asher on the mic, Cid knew the crowd was in store for a replay of the previous three weeks. Cid almost felt responsible for his safety at this point. For some reason, no one else was bothering to help him. Now, Dark Fantasy had challenged both him and Asher to a match at Rise to Greatness, forcing a bond between the two. It was no longer about just himself and his issues with CHBK. It had quickly evolved into a major tag team match at the biggest show of the year.
As he left the janitor’s closet and made his way to the ring, he could finally clearly hear what everyone was saying.
“Ever ask yourself why a former World Champion was happy to leave you to head to the ring… running from you?”
Ravyn didn’t have to try hard to be cunning at this point. She was just speaking the truth. Asher started to stand up for him, but it was hard to focus on Asher’s defense as Cid walked through the curtain to a tremendous reception.
It was staggering. Literally. Cid took a step back, blown away by a reaction that he could safely say he never received before. He may have gotten a few sympathy cheers upon his return in 2011, but nothing like this. He couldn’t comprehend it. Years of doing everything he could to make everyone around him miserable – both in and out of the ring – and they all loved him.
He made his way down to the ring, unaware of Ravyn rattling on about whatever. He met Asher down the ramp and took a quick look at him.
Holy shit, he thought. This dude has a lead pipe… and long, flowing hair. That’s badass.
They both made their way down to the ring. Cid grabbed the ropes, ready to pull himself up, but suddenly stopped while still clutching the ropes.
January 22nd, 2012. The last time he’d stepped inside of an SCW ring. Body, Heart, and Soul. All of which seemed to be letting him down at this moment.
Ravyn mockingly held the ropes open for him, but he couldn’t do this. He had already backed away.
“Because… make no mistake about it… I’ve been reborn. I may have been apprehensive that night in Canada. I may have been apprehensive every week since then, really… I mean, it’s hard not to be. Every time I think I’m starting to break out of my shell, something comes over me and makes me question myself once again. If it’s not my own mind betraying me, then it’s one of you guys beating the hell out of me. So, yeah, there may still be some apprehension… but that’s fine.”
They were getting surrounded. Asher pushed Cid out of the way and started to defend them by swinging the lead pipe like a homicidal maniac. First fending off Alexander Crowe, then Syren.
As Asher swung the weapon around, looking like a majestic madman, Cid could only look on. This man was protecting him and he wasn’t even really sure why. What had he ever done to be protected? He was in the SCW Hall of Fame, but what did that really mean to anyone? He got to that peak by using everyone he knew as stepping stones.
Maybe that’s not what this was about though. Maybe Asher didn’t look at Cid and see all the vile things he’d done his entire career. Maybe Asher looked at Cid and saw someone coming back to try and make a difference. Someone that was trying to make up for all the mistakes he’s made. Someone trying to just be a better human being.
Or maybe he just wanted someone to help him so he’d stop getting mauled every week. Either way, Cid’s eyes were opened in this moment thanks to Asher Hayes. He knew of only one way to pay reverence to his new partner.
“When the miracle of birth occurs, we don’t expect the baby to get up, cut its own cord, and walk the hell out of the delivery room, do we? No, man. They need time to grow, and to learn. It’s why I’ve been thinking of Canada so much lately. It’s always been so important to me, but it’s now transcended to something else entirely. It’s beyond being just part of my history. It’s now essential to my soul, man… because that night in Canada, Cid Turner was reborn.”
“Fine! I accept! I’ll face you! Him too!”
The crowd exploded. His brain exploded. He looked around at the rabid crowd, wondering if he just made a huge mistake. Ravyn called out for confirmation and it was like he’d been possessed by a spirit that wasn’t an anxious mess for a fleeting moment as he snatched the microphone from Asher and shouted into it.
“Yeah! I accept! Us versus you!”
“And everything since that night has been me, learning what the hell to do with these… sprouting legs. It started with a crawl.”
He looked down at his feet right as he laid out the acceptance of what seemed like an impossible challenge. He immediately regretted everything. He was surrounded by people that wanted to probably literally kill him. He had one partner, which still left them severely outnumbered. Even without the goons, Dark Fantasy was quite the threat.
He shoved the microphone back to Asher and made his way up the ramp.
“Now… it may not have been pretty, but I’d say eventually it evolved into a walk.”
Then he started to think. He was never the best… but he got the job done, plenty of times. Who’s to say that he and Asher can’t get the job done here?
Well… they’re the best. It’s not an exaggeration. They’ve got statistics to back it up. They’ve got mathematical God damn statistics on their side.
But wasn’t CHBK ‘the best’? Wasn’t Jason Wheeler? Or, really, anyone else who stood in my way?
Well… maybe. Nobody compares to Dark Fantasy, though. They stand tall over everyone in SCW history…
… but they’re only human.
“So, I’ll tell you now, Syren. Ravyn. Yeah, I’m walking into Rise to Greatness. Honestly, it might be generous to say that, even. Maybe I’m hobbling. I mean, I’m definitely feeling a bit of a limp after what you guys did to me. I don’t know. All I know is that once we’re under those bright lights on the biggest stage in wrestling, my transformation will be complete.”
They’re incredible humans, though. Amazing athletes. Possibly ruthless killers. What if it all goes wrong?
Yeah, but… what if it all goes right?
“Because at Rise to Greatness, Asher and I aren’t just walking to the top of that mountain. We’re facing the top team in SCW history, bar none. We’re giving it everything we’ve got. We’re running. We’re running until we can’t run anymore, and I know with him by my side, we’ll be able to do what everyone assumes we can’t. We’re going to beat Dark Fantasy.”
I guess. Words to live by. What if? What if Dark Fantasy isn’t everything everyone thinks they are? Or, even, what if Cid Turner isn’t everything everyone thinks he is?
He disappeared behind the curtain as Asher jogged after him.
What if?
“There’s no better place to do it. I’ve been gone for so long. I tumbled down the bottom of that mountain. I can admit right now that I’m at the absolute rock bottom in my career and in my life. It’s all in the name, though. Rise to Greatness. I’ve done it once, I’ll do it again. At Rise to Greatness, Cid Turner rises again with the help of Asher Hayes. At the end of the night, Asher Hayes and Cid Turner will have defeated the greatest team to ever live, Syren and Ravyn… Dark Fantasy. Dark Fantasy will have to make way for the A/C Unit. The A/C Unit… from hitting rock bottom to rising to greatness,” Cid said with a heavy exhale, thinking it sounded too good to be true. What if, though? “Sounds like destiny.”
After a brief linger on Cid, Clyde shut the camera off.
“So,” Cid began as he stood up and joined Clyde behind the camera, “how’d we go?”
“It was fine, but I think we’re missing something. I do have a suggestion…”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“Well, since you’re set up in front of that screen there…” he said, pointing to the grey screen Cid had spoken in front of. “It gives us an interesting opportunity. I could put this on my computer and edit it so there’s a more interesting background behind you and it’ll look like you’re really there.”
“You can do that?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah. You know what I think? I put like a… like a beach background behind you. It’ll be like you’re giving your promo from an exotic beach. You’ll look like a total playa!”
“Playa?” Cid wondered. The two stood in silence, imagining what that would look like. “You know what? That sounds kinda badass. Put me in front of an exotic beach.”
“Done!”
THE RISE OF THE FALLEN KING 