Oh, God. No. Don’t blow it. Please, don’t blow it.
I forgot how hard this is. God damn it. I wish I had a practice run.
What do I even do with my hands? There’s so many places to grab. Do I ask her before I grab something?
I can’t believe this is happening.
All right. You’re gonna blow it, Cid. Think of some things that’ll bring it down a notch.
Damn it, what is there?
Greg Cherry’s eternally open mouth. He would never just… shut the hell up. Oh, God, his stupid Cherry Pit Crew. For Christ’s sake, after all the times that any one of them were reported to be dead, why couldn’t it have been true just once?!
Okay, that’s good. I’m coming down.
Another Jason Wheeler title reign. That’s definitely enough to make any part of you enter a slumber. The Hero of Time? The only way he could ever possibly be a hero of time is if he miraculously gave us back all of the wasted hours he spent polluting the airwaves. Damn weirdo.
Jay Gold. Oh, no. Wait. Jay Gold and his ridiculous cousin, or whatever the hell she was. Stacy God damn Kissinger. Ohh, her accent. Well, Mistah Turnah, juss thinka me and mah preposterous accent, and surely y’all’ll brang that swellin’ down!
Oh, shit. Too far. I’ve lost too much. No! I’m a floppy noodle! I have to get it back. Damn it, come on.
Man. I can see why Shawn Winters was obsessed with this, though. I could barely remember what it felt like. This is great!
Okay, okay. Have to get back on track. I don’t want her to think I’m just a dead fish. What’s going to get me back up to full mast?
Second world title win. Redemption. 2006. Beating Hunter and Cherry in the same night to begin the best reign in SCW history. Wow. What a night. Oh my God, Greg’s face! For once, I could get enjoyment out of looking at Greg’s stupid face. That’s good stuff.
Taking out CHBK the next month. That’s just… excellent. He’ll never, ever have another chance at me. I’ll forever have a 100% win record against the Canadian legend. I’ll always be better than him. Amazing.
Oh, there you go. We’re definitely back up there. Let’s keep it going.
Rise to Greatness. Defending my championship in the main event of Rise to Greatness.
Oh, yes.
Defeating three other men to keep holding onto my title. The chaos of a TLC match… and I was the last man standing.
Jesus. Jesus Christ.
110 days.
Oh.
110 glorious days of Cid Turner as champion.
Uh oh. I can’t stop now. It’s going to happen. God, I hope I lasted long enough to impress her. Screw it, I’m doing it. Right now. Just one more thing to put me over the edge. Oh, God.
SCW HALL OF FAME! HALL OF FAMER, BABY!
…
God damn. What a load off. Can’t remember the last time I experienced this feeling.
It was sometime in the early 2000s. 2003 or 2004, Cid guessed. He couldn’t even remember her name. It was at an SCW show with another SCW employee. During a blizzard, he found himself locked in a car with her with nowhere to go. For all he knew, they were going to die in there, and she might have felt the same. They never spoke to each other again and she didn’t stick around with the company for long. It’s possible that the shame of sleeping with Cid ruined her self-confidence to the point where she could no longer perform in the ring.
This time, though, was something he’d never forget. Cid had spent most of his adult life resenting Elizabeth for divorcing him after they married young, but his first night with her since then had him reconsidering all of his life decisions. While it probably wasn’t healthy for him to strictly be thinking of other SCW stars mid-coitus, the rest of the night couldn’t be ignored. Cid had taken a great weight from off of his shoulders and was well on his way to improving himself and becoming a normal human being.
February 13, 2013 – The Day Cid Turner Died
The following morning was expectedly awkward.
“Look, Cid, last night was fun,” she started as she was finishing up getting dressed. “Should probably leave it at that though. I might have had a few too many drinks on the Vespa, got a bit carried away in the moment. Really, it was great to see you again. Just don’t think this would work.”
“Oh my God. You have a husband, don’t you?” he asked. He was now sat up in the bed, ready to do whatever it takes. “I’ll kill him,” he stated without a hint of sarcasm. “I’ll kill your husband.”
“No, no. It’s not like that, it—“
“Seriously. I have some connections. We could make it look like an accident. I have no issue with this man’s life being taken from him.”
“No, that’s not what I mean, I mean—“
“Holy shit, you’re a lesbian,” he interrupted. “You turned into a lesbian after the divorce and your first time seeing me after all these years made you straight again. I mean, I know I have that effect on women, but this must be weird for you after living as a gay woman for so long. Look, I’ll make the transition back as smooth as possible. I’m willing to change some things about my love making style to make it more lesbian friendly, Liz.”
“I’m not a lesbian! Jesus, could you let me speak?” Elizabeth sat down on the bed at Cid’s feet. “Okay. I’m not a lesbian. I don’t have a husband. I’m just saying, there’s a reason why we broke up in the first place, and there’s a reason why we haven’t seen each other in person since all of that went down,” she explained. Cid knew she had a good point. The most they had done since their divorce was finalized was exchange phone calls and even those were few and far between. The relationship had repaired itself to at least be on a friendly basis, but that was about it. “Again, though… it was great seeing you. We shouldn’t wait ten years to catch up again. Probably shouldn’t repeat this though.”
She started to get up from out of the bed, but Cid scooted up and put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. He brought himself closer to her. “I know what you mean,” he said. “Could you just do me a favor though? Please, stay here an extra day. Just for today, I mean. We have this test show we’re running. We’re gonna tape a show, put it all together, and send it out to see which network wants to give us a ton of money to make their channel famous. It’s gonna be great, these guys are ready to kick some ass. I’m not even working a match, you can just hang out with me in the back and we can watch it together.”
“I dunno, Cid, I—“
“Please,” he cut her off. “This is an important show for me!” Elizabeth could tell that he wasn’t exaggerating. This really was a big deal to him. “Look at you, you haven’t even showered! Go use my shower. It’s huge, it’s probably bigger than your living room! Seriously, you could fit all the boys here in that shower and still have some room for myself!” He took a moment to reflect on what he said. “Not that we’ve ever done that. I just mean that we could… but, not that we would. It’s—… well, it’s just a big shower. Go ahead, enjoy it!”
“Well,” she sighed. She thought it couldn’t hurt to stay for the show. She also wanted to see if Cid’s shower was as ridiculous as he claimed. “Couldn’t hurt to shower, I suppose.”
“You’re right, it couldn’t! Great! Look, I have to go get some stuff set up for tonight. Tell you what, I’ll send the driver here in about twenty and he’ll bring you up. Sound good?”
“Sure, but, doesn’t he have a name?” Elizabeth asked. “You keep calling him just… driver.”
“Well, we try not to name him. We don’t want to get too attached. It’s a dangerous job, y’know? Driving up and down mountains all day. Look, don’t worry about it, I’ll see you soon.”
October 23, 2014 – One Year a Phantom
It had been over a year since Cid was diagnosed with cervical spinal stenosis, and over a year since he’d seen anyone after barring all visitors from his home. Today was special, though. He stood at the base of the mountain, twelve minutes from his front gate, which would make him about fifteen minutes from his front door. After a year of solitude, Cid decided it was time to have some company. Hours of research led him to ordering a Russian mail-order bride from the Internet.
They’d been exchanging photos of one another for months. He hoped that she looked as attractive as she did in her pictures, but he wasn’t going to be too hard on her about that, considering most of the pictures he shared of himself were from the mid-2000s. He actually felt a bit bad. His hair was the shaggiest it had been since he was a teenager and he actually impressed himself with the amount of facial hair he was growing, but it probably wasn’t what his new bride was looking for. Not that either of their appearances really matter. While he had to marry her to give her access to the country, he had no plans for a romantic relationship. He wasn’t ready. Instead, his new bride would be more of a carer than a wife.
As he waited in the cold Colorado weather, his neighbor stepped out onto his deck, breakfast in hand. Their relationship had improved in the last year. Thanks to Cid turning into a recluse, there were no longer cars coming in and out of the area. He’d also cut power to the giant neon sign above his house, which his neighbor appreciated. From Cid’s perspective, he had sunken down to his neighbor’s level. He felt he could relate to the man and it made him feel closer to him.
Look at that miserable bastard, he thought. I’m just like him now. No hopes. No dreams. No job. Nothing special about him. For all I know, this guy could have been a star back in his day, just like me. Now? We’re like Lance Armstrong. One wrong move and suddenly no one gives a single shit. Everything before means absolutely nothing. We’ve lost it. We’ve lost our shine. The fire in our hearts. We’re just coasting through life. We’re completely normal human beings. Why do we even bother to live? Only God knows. But here we are. Together.
As Cid lost himself sinking in a pool of melancholic thoughts, the mailman showed up in his van. Cid would usually just get his mail from his PO box, but not only did they inform him that he’d be unable to collect a human being from the post office, but they reminded him that he hadn’t gone and checked his mail since his injury. The solution was to be brave and go down the mountain to collect his new bride via delivery.
“Delivery for Cid Turner,” said the mailman as he stepped out of his van, getting a wave from Cid. He walked towards Cid and whipped out a giant stack of mail. “We brought you some of your uncollected mail as well! All right, can you sign for the boxes in the back?”
Cid took the mail and put it on the back of his Vespa scooter. As he took the pen and paper, the mailman collected two large boxes from the back of his van, wheeling them out next to the van. Cid signed and gave the clipboard back to him and looked at the boxes. “Um… sorry, what the hell are those? I ordered a Russian bride.”
“Oh, yeah, she’s in there,” he replied, giving the bottom box a slap. “Dunno about the second one though, that came in a couple days ago. Where do you want me to put these?”
“Hold on, she’s inside the box?”
“Yup, should be. Don’t worry, they poke holes in the box before they ship ’em here. So, where do you want the boxes?”
“I’m sorry, is this legal? Am I going to open that box and find my dead Russian wife?”
“Sir. Just tell me where you want your parcels,” he said, no longer adopting the friendly postal worker tone.
“God damn it. Look—“
Just then, Clyde Warner busted out of the top box, gasping for air. Both Cid and the mailman looked on as he fell to the ground. He quickly got up, dirt and dust swirling around him.
“No! No, no, no! I heard everything! If you have room for a beautiful Russian wife in that house, you have room for me!”
“Oh, Jesus,” Cid groaned as he face-palmed. “Clark, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Clyde! My name is Clyde!” he yelled. Cid was taken aback. It was the first time that Clyde had come at him like this. “I’ve been sitting in that box for two days waiting for you to come get me because I knew it was the only way you’d let me back in. Two days! Check your mail!”
“Go home, man. Just go home. Leave me to my boring life with my boring Russian wife. Let me live my life like everyone else does. Just living day by day, doing absolutely nothing… just waiting to die.”
“I’ll never leave you alone,” Clyde declared. “I know you’re going through a bad time right now, but you can get better. I know you can. We’ll try everything. I’m going to be here for you, even if you say no. I’ll find a way to be here for you. I won’t let you rot away!”
The mailman stuck in the middle of all this chimed in, “sorry, can you just tell me where to put this damn box?”
Cid sighed and looked at Clyde. “Can you cook?” he asked, ignoring the mailman’s requests. “Can you check mail? Can you just… go out and do all of my errands for me?”
“Yes,” he immediately replied. “God, yes, I can do it all.”
It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have a slave at this point in his life. Refusing to leave the house as a result of depression and fear of further injuring himself had produced a new list of problems that he never really considered. No one wanted to drive twenty minutes up a mountain to delivery groceries to a sketchy hermit for some reason. After a few moments, Cid finally gave in. “Fine. You can stay. I’m not paying you, but you can stay.”
Clyde looked like he might cry as he went over to Cid and embraced him. Cid just stood there with his arms at his side, looking at the perturbed mailman. “Thank you… thank you so much,” Clyde whispered, both love and care lingering on every word.
“Okay, I’m just gonna leave your bride here,” said the mailman. “Have fun, fellas.”
“No, wait,” Cid said as he broke loose of Clyde’s hug. “Can you just drive us to my house up the hill? Look, the Vespa can’t handle three people. It’s just a short fifteen minute drive. We’ll go up, together,” he said looking back at Clyde, “… as a family.”
The mailman looked down and shook his head, wondering what the hell he was doing here. “I’m not your family, man. But… yeah, whatever. Let’s go,” he said as he started to head back into his van.
Clyde quickly piped in, “hey, let’s get your Russian wife out of that box!”
“Let’s!”
They both went over and ripped the box open. There she was, a skinny blonde Russian, hugging her knees just to be able to fit in the box. She looked up at her new husband and his weird follower, squinting as the harsh sun reflected in her eyes. “Hello,” she said, her voice carrying a thick Russian accent.
“My God,” said Clyde. “She’s lovely. What’s your name?” he asked, to no answer. He pointed at her and repeated the question more loudly as if that would somehow break the language barrier. “WHAT… IS… YOUR NAME?! NAME?!”
“Hello,” she said again. “I’m Elizaveta. Hello.”
“Elizaveta?” Clyde asked. He looked at Cid, who was standing next to him smiling and nodding.
“Hello. I’m Elizaveta,” she repeated. It was the only English she knew.
“Elizaveta,” Cid echoed. “Elizaveta Turner. It just… works, doesn’t it?”
February 13, 2013 – The Day Cid Turner Died
“So. Mr. Turner. Tell me. Did ya hit that?”
Clyde Warner stuck his tongue out after asking the question, looking like an idiot and – quite frankly – really creepy. Cid tried his best to treat his students with some respect, but he often found himself wanting to punch Clyde especially right in his face. He knew he was a good kid though. Probably too young to be wrestling in a mysterious mansion in the mountains, but just old enough to make the decision to do so on his own.
Clyde already had a couple of years wrestling under his belt, getting some local gigs while lying about his age. He assured the promoters that he was just small for his age, which wasn’t a lie. He actually was small for his real age. He didn’t have the type of body one would expect a wrestler to have. Too short, though not abnormally so. In decent shape for a middle-aged man, the issue being that he had yet to hit 20. His athleticism also resembled that of your average middle-aged man.
What Cid appreciated about Clyde was that he was a massive Cid Turner fan. Factoring in Clyde’s determination and willingness to learn, Cid saw the potential and opportunity to mold him into a lesser Cid Turner clone. Without Cid, he probably wouldn’t be anything special. Under Cid’s tutelage, however, Clyde had the potential to be… at least on his way to something resembling special.
Clyde finally put his tongue away, but was still bouncing with excitement. “Well? Did ya?!”
“A king doesn’t kiss and tell,” he replied, taking a moment to pause. He didn’t want to be disrespectful about the situation, but he also felt that his first time with a woman in about ten years deserved to be celebrated. “But a king does BONE and tell! YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT I HIT THAT, BROTHER!”
Cid and Clyde stood in one of the four rings in the home gym, high fiving. Surrounding them were various performers both in and out of the rings, mostly focusing on their own preparations for the night. Among the mostly indifferent crowd, a few cheered Cid’s accomplishment.
“That’s awesome,” Clyde said. He was genuinely happy for his master. “I’m not really into relationships since I’m more focused on wrestling, but I can still appreciate my father figure getting some!”
“Again, not your father or any sort of father figure,” Cid said as he forced out a chuckle in an attempt to not come off as mad. He felt Clyde also had the potential to snap and kill everyone in the building if he wasn’t treated carefully. He just had that look about him. “Thanks, though. I mean, it’s no big deal though. Just another day for the king, huh?”
“Yup, yup. Hey, look, I wanted to talk to you about something. I’m thankful for the opportunity to compete tonight, but I really need a new finisher.”
“Oh, you’re absolutely right,” Cid agreed. “I’m happy to pass on some knowledge, but I don’t think you should try and do my patented Shooting Star Press. Seriously, after last time I’m scared that you’re going to have some long term neck issues. It was probably the ugliest Shooting Star I’ve ever seen. Even if you landed it, that would have probably been the ugliest Shooting Star I’ve ever seen.”
“No, look, I completely agree. Hey, I’ll save it for special occasions, how’s that sound?”
“Please, don’t. Please,” Cid begged.
“I’ll hang on to it for when I really need it. Plus, Jake Starr has kind of taken over that move, y’know? His has a bit more theatrics. Really made it his own.”
“Jake Starr? He’s got a great look, sure, but he’s no Cid Turner. That move’s definitely mine still. I made it famous.”
“Yeah, you’re right, I guess. It’s just— well, he recently became a three time champion. He’s got a good career going for him.”
“Three?” Cid asked. “As in, one more than two…” he said, trailing off a bit, thinking about how every day he was away, his accomplishments were at risk of being overshadowed. He considered making Clyde’s match a cage match as punishment for bringing it up, but realized that the difficult process of setting up the cage wasn’t worth the effort. “That’s interesting. Good for him.”
“Yeah. Hey, you know he uses your old theme music too? Well, I mean, the same artist.”
“Wait a minute, what? He stole my look, stole my finisher, and has stolen my theme song artist? What the hell kind of business is being run there? Are the inmates running the asylum?! This is an injustice!”
“Yeah, it—“
“No!” Cid interrupted. “No, no, no! I won’t stand for this. I’m writing some letters. Ohh, I’m writing some letters! I don’t know who I’m gonna sue, but I’m gonna sue someone.”
“Jesus, all right, I won’t use the Shooting Star.”
“IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU!” he shouted. He took a moment to compose himself. He wanted to return to SCW, if only to murder Jake Starr on national television, but knew that he wasn’t in the right mind frame to do so. Even if he was, killing someone would probably be something Elizabeth frowned upon, especially after she told him how much he had improved as a person. Jake Starr would live to fight another day. “Fine. What did you need from me? You need another move? I can suggest another finisher. I’m quite creative like that.”
“No, I actually came up with something on my own. Just wanted to know if you thought it sounded good.”
“Okay, what do you got?”
“You know what a small package is?” Clyde asked the Hall of Famer with several years of professional experience.
“Hm? Oh, no. Never heard of it.”
“Oh, okay, well basically you—“
Cid punched Clyde’s arm and was visibly annoyed at his student. “Of course I know what a small package is, you idiot!”
“Right, sorry,” Clyde said as he rubbed his arm.
“Don’t rub it!”
“Okay, okay. Anyway, as you know, I have abnormally strong legs. I’ve been working on this with some of the other guys. I’m pretty sure I’ve perfected the small package. In fact, I’m not even calling it a small package. It’s an evolution. It needs a new name.”
“Jesus Christ. Your finish is a small package?”
“Not just a small package,” Clyde teased. “I call it… Balls Deep. Because it may be a small package, but I’m going BALLS DEEP, BABY!”
Silence came between them. The moment was less awkward due to the lively gym around them, but it still wasn’t the stupendous reveal Clyde had imagined.
“Balls Deep?” Cid asked as he internally questioned Clyde’s sanity. “Your finish is a small package referred to as Balls Deep? That’s terrible. That’s absolutely terrible. You’re making me question if you belong here. I’m not sure if you’re teachable, Claude.”
“Clyde,” he quickly corrected Cid before trying to move on. “Look, I’m serious. Ask the boys, once I get those legs hooked, you’re not gettin’ out of that sucker.”
“I’m sorry, but,” Cid went to the ropes and snapped his fingers a few times in the direction of a few trainees, grabbing their attention. “No real competitor is getting caught in an inside cradle like that. That’s grade school wrestling!” The trainees were now stood outside the ring, looking up at Cid as he leaned on the ropes. “One of you guys, get in here and be the referee. We’re gonna show Clay here what happens when a small package is your finish.”
“Clyde. I’m Clyde,” he said as one of the trainees got in the ring to take his place as the referee. Clyde perked up, realizing that a dream of his was about to come true. “Wait, am I about to take on Cid Turner? Holy shit.”
“I don’t know if you can call what’s about to take place a match, but sure.”
“Oh my God. Sir, this is an honor.”
Cid charged the referee and screamed in his face, “RING THE BELL!”
The referee motioned for the bell to ring and one of the other trainees rang it to start the sparring session. Cid ran at Clyde and hit him with a knee to the gut. Clyde gets bent over, leading to Cid wrapping him up with a small package. The referee slides in to count, but Cid can only hold Clyde for a two before he breaks out of it. They both get up and go to opposite corners.
“That’s what I mean, right there,” said Cid. Clyde was already out of breath as he stood across from his teacher. “It’s grade school wrestling. That’s the level you’re at. I can catch you in that, but you can’t catch me. I’m an experienced veteran. I’m a legend. Legends do not get caught in an inside cradle. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a small package, Clint. So, what’s your plan then? I’ve ruled out your small package as a finish. How will you take your opponent down?”
Cid found his way back to the center of the ring, motioning for Clyde to lock up. Clyde made his way towards Cid, but instead of locking up, he slid under Cid’s legs and quickly turned back around, finishing the maneuver by hitting Cid with a low blow. Cid keeled over. He looked up in pain at the referee, who just shrugged, not knowing if there could be a disqualification under the circumstances. Suddenly, like a slithering snake, Clyde slid back in front of Cid, bringing him down and successfully applying Balls Deep. The referee slid in, starting his count.
“ONE!”
Oh my God, Cid thought. His legs. They’re so strong. I can’t move.
“TWO!”
Cid tried with all of his might to break free from the pin. It felt like he had been wrapped up for an eternity. Instead of wiggling out, he tried to charge up a kick out, but it was too late.
“THREE!”
Cid felt the vibrations from the final slam of the mat throughout his body. He didn’t even kick out after the three. Clyde released Balls Deep, deciding to show mercy to his teacher instead of keeping him locked up in the pin for the rest of his life. The referee brought Clyde up, raising his hand in victory. Cid got up on his knees and for a brief moment felt pride that he had student of his perfected a move to the point where he was defeated by it. The wholesome feeling didn’t last long, however, as Cid saw that a small crowd had now formed around the ring. Several of his students just witnessed him lose to one of the worst trainees he had and now were all watching Clyde stand tall and celebrate as Cid collected himself on the mat.
Cid was overcome with familiar feelings. The immense shame of coming up short in an athletic competition. He thought of all his humiliating losses over his career.
Being the first one eliminated in the Elimination Chamber to lose his coveted championship.
Caleb Andrews.
Jay Gold.
Christy Matthews.
Alex Desoubrais, Jr.
Moments he tried to bury to keep him from lashing out, reverting back to his old ways.
Today, they were unearthed.
He looked towards the referee and shouted, “YOU! YOU SCREWED ME!”
Cid shot up and chased the referee, who by this point had already bailed from the ring at the sight of his trainer heading towards him with hate in his eyes. “FAST COUNTING PIECE OF—… CHEATING BASTARD!” he continued, shouting out an obscenity he could think of. He hopped out of the ring to give chase but gave up after seeing that the referee was on his way out of the room.
Cid looked back into the ring and saw Clyde now standing on the second rope in the corner, holding his arms up in a victory pose in front of the small crowd. It was something Cid was never okay with… people celebrating after defeating him. He couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed a steel chair from ringside, folded it up, and slid into the ring with it in hand. After a furious walk with purpose towards Clyde in the corner, he swung the chair at his student, slamming it right into his back. Clyde fell down from the second rope, not even aware that he was in the process of being brutalized by his role model.
“I HATE CHEATERS!” he yelled down towards a stunned Clyde, whose mind was still having trouble processing that he was getting a chance at Cid to the point that he wasn’t even aware that he was now on the bad end of a classic Turner tantrum. Cid swung down, once again striking Clyde in the back as he laid out on his stomach.
“I HATE LIARS!”
Another swing.
“I HATE THIEVES, LIKE THAT CROOK… JAKE STARR!”
And another.
“YOU’RE A GOD DAMN CHEATER!”
The final crack of the chair against Clyde’s back rang throughout the room. Everyone that had been previously getting work in in the room was now gathered around the ring as the king had executed the local jester. Cid, heaving from the combination of having a breakdown and the physical activity involved in maiming someone with a steel chair, dropped the weapon, leading to several students rushing the ring to check on Clyde. One of them gave him a couple nudges, checking for signs of life.
“Oh, shit. Cid, I think you killed this dude!”
“Ah, shit,” he replied in a panic. A dead student would not be a good look for him. “Damn, damn, damn…”
Suddenly, Clyde began coughing, letting everyone know he’s still living.
“Oh, good. I haven’t killed someone.”
They all continue to check on Clyde as Cid looks on in mild relief. “Cid, I don’t think he can compete tonight. You messed him up, man!”
“Jesus Christ,” he said as he went to lean down towards a lifeless Clyde. “WHY DID YOU HAVE TO CHEAT, YOU IDIOT?!”
“Cid, it seemed pretty clean to me. You never specified if it was no DQ or not, so—“ one of the trainees chirped, but immediately got a finger in the face from Cid.
“Don’t. Don’t even think of defending him. No one beats Cid Turner fairly. Hasn’t happened yet, probably never will.”
“Sir, what’re we gonna do about his match? This dude can’t go!”
Cid buried his face into his hands. He needed a full show tonight. He realized that this could also be an opportunity to show his students that this was a fluke win for Clyde. There was only one solution. “Damn it,” he began as he took his face out of his hands and took a deep breath, looking down at his students trying to bring Clyde back to the present. “God damn it. I’ll do it. I’ll take his place in the damn match! I didn’t want the show to be all about me,” he said as he looked out at all the Turner Championship Wrestling logos plastered all over the gym, with the ‘Turner’ portion a shining gold next to the rest of the white logo. “I really didn’t… but a king is always there for his peasants. I’ll open the damn show.”
There were murmurs throughout the gym. Everyone always assumed Cid would try and insert himself to the show at some point, but he’d seemed dedicated to sticking to training for the most part, so this was at least a mild surprise. Among the chaos, Cid’s driver had just walked in, flanked by Elizabeth. They’re already close to ringside before Cid finally noticed, hopping out of the ring in hopes of cutting them off, hoping Elizabeth wouldn’t see his dirty work.
“Elizabeth!” Cid shouted, hoping that he’d successfully masked his feelings of rage and panic. “All cleaned up, I see! You liked the shower right? Oh, it’s huge. It’s so big. I love big things.”
Elizabeth gave him a bit of a side-eye. Cid was obviously flustered. Elizabeth looked over his shoulder to see Clyde Warner being carried out of the ring by a handful of people, completely limp. Cid looked back at the same scene. He thought Clyde looked like he’d been sacrificed to the wrestling Gods in order to bring Cid Turner back into the ring. A noble sacrifice for the better of mankind. It was only then he realized it might be a good idea to invest in a stretcher and some medical equipment.
“Whoa, what happened to him?!” Elizabeth asked. The team of men carrying Clyde turned a corner, accidentally slamming his head into a ring post, causing Elizabeth to cringe in response. “Ooh, shit. Is he dead?”
“Huh?” Cid turned back to Elizabeth, trying to ignore the commotion behind him. “Oh, no. He’s fine. Well, I mean, he’s not. He’s injured. He’ll be okay though. This stuff just happens in this business, you know. There’s… well, there’s no way this could have been avoided. People get hurt in this line of work, you know? Damn,” Cid said as he tried his best to seem upset at Clyde’s misfortune. “I feel so bad for Clint. Man! I’m so sad for him right now.”
“Clyde.”
Cid wiped his nose and sniffled, hoping that the acting classes he took after his first hiatus from SCW were finally paying off. “What’s up?”
“That guy’s Clyde, right? He was the one following us around all day yesterday. He kept talking about the poster of you in his room.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, you’re probably right. Sorry, I have so many people under me, it’s sometimes hard to keep track of all their names,” he said. There was suddenly a ruckus behind him. He looked back to see that Clyde had now been dropped on the ground as they all struggled to fit through the door while carrying him. It was possible that Clyde had just gotten a concussion. “Oh, for—… GUYS! SET HIM ON THE GROUND AND SLIDE HIM THROUGH THE DOOR, THEN YOU ALL GO THROUGH SEPARATELY AND PICK HIM BACK UP! TAKE HIM TO THE LOCAL HOSPITAL! QUICKLY, IT’S ABOUT A FORTY MINUTE DRIVE! NOW LET’S GO, BOYS, PICK UP THE SLACK!”
“Damn, forty minutes?”
Cid turned back around towards Elizabeth as Clyde was now being slid through the door by several grown men who were using a combination of feet and hands to get him through. “Yeah. Believe it or not, there are some cons to living this high up in the mountains,” he explained.
“Wow. Hey, maybe I’ll catch a ride with them?”
“Wait, aren’t you going to stay for my big show? Oh, shit. I forgot to tell you, I’m taking his place. So I’m gonna be competing! You have to stay now, you haven’t seen me in the ring in forever!”
“No, no, I’ll stay. I just need to go out and get changed and grab a couple of things. I’m actually excited for your show, Cid. Of course I’ll support you if it means that much to you.”
Cid felt a genuine smile come across his face. He felt like he was glowing. Suddenly, he turned back around and yelled. “YOU GUYS ARE TAKING LIZ TOO! DRIVE HER WHEREVER SHE WANTS WHEN YOU’RE DONE AT THE HOSPITAL AND DON’T EVEN LOOK AT HER, YOU PERVERTS!” He turned back to Elizabeth. “You’re in good hands.”
December 28, 2019 – Six Years a Phantom
Cid sat in the middle of the ring in a big lounge chair. Today, just like he’d done every day for the last six or so years, he was watching his favorite moments of his career on the titantron that he constructed all those years ago.
Redemption 2006
The final round of the SCW World Championship tournament. Greg Cherry went to attempt to beat a downed Cid with a steel chair, but the referee yanked the chair from out of his hands. As Cherry turned around to protest, Cid quickly popped up and rolled him up, getting a handful of tights in the process.
1!
2!
3!
Cherry kicked out with so much force that Cid was launched through the ropes and to the outside of the ring. Cherry looked up in complete shock, slamming his fist down into the canvas in frustration. As Cid stirred, the referee grabbed Cid’s US Championship belt and his newly won World Championship belt from the timekeeper, running them around the ring to the new double champion.
“I don’t believe it!” Dawson exclaimed from the announcer’s table as Cid grabbed his titles. “For the first time in over two years, Cid Turner is SCW Champion!”
Cid laughed hysterically. “Greg, you total idiot! Oh, man. You were always so stupid!”
He looked in rough shape as the light of the tron at the top of the ramp shined on his face as he sat in the ring. His hair was now long and scraggly, resting on his shoulders. His beard – totally unkempt – touching down all the way to his chest. He had also aged a fair amount over the years and looked unhealthy beyond just the overgrown hair. His skin looked awful. He didn’t mind. He expected these things to happen once he decided to cut down to bathing once every two weeks. He just didn’t care anymore. The only people he had seen since shutting down his school and promotion were Clyde and his Russian mail-order bride Elizaveta. Why try to keep up any sort of charade? He didn’t need to impress anyone.
Taking Hold of the Flame 2006
Cid got up, getting into the face of Shawn Winters who was rocking a referee’s shirt. He was sick of being overshadowed by the budding rivalry between Winters and CHBK. Cid had his first defense of his World Championship against CHBK, but Shawn Winters had been inserted as the special guest referee, much to the chagrin of Cid. He had enough. He screamed at Winters, who seemed to be ignoring him. Suddenly, Cid was hit with a superkick courtesy of Winters, knocking him clean out. The crowd went wild as CHBK began to stir, in a great position to make Cid’s reign a short one. Winters, however, shrugged and superkicked the Canadian legend as well.
At the announcer’s desk, Sharper was getting worked up. “What the hell?! Winters just superkicked CHBK!”
“I guess he’s evening the sides out,” his partner Johnson suggested.
Shawn Winters rips off his referee’s shirt, leading to the majority of female fans cheering in appreciation. He throws the shirt down and exits the ring, leaving the match. Cid got up, not completely sure where he was or what was happening. Instinct kicked in as he saw a downed CHBK. He climbed the turnbuckle and hit the Mile High Press, bouncing off CHBK from the force of the move, but luckily falling forward, completely spent. The crowd looked on in uncertainty until another referee sprinted down the ramp, sliding in the ring to begin the count.
1!
2!
3!
The familiar boos after a Cid Turner victory started to rain down towards the ring as Cid rolled off of CHBK, proudly picking up a cheap victory.
“Damn it!” cried Dawson. “Cid Turner retains the SCW Championship!”
Cid once against busted out laughing. He happily slapped the arm of his chair several times, extremely amused at the misfortune of his former opponents. “Oh, yeah! CHBK, what a legend! You’re such an incredible legend, Alex! Aww, but you’ve never beaten me, buddy!”
Rise to Greatness 2006
Both Greg Cherry and Cid fought atop the ladder, the SCW World Championship dangling just above their heads. They were the two last men standing in the fatal four-way main event TLC match. Just as Cherry went to reach up, Cid’s sidekick Sid Kipling leaped up and grabbed his leg, prompting Cherry to look down while trying desperately to shake him off.
“Don’t worry about Kipling,” Dawson pleaded. “Cherry! Go for the belt!”
Johnson looked on the opposite end of the ladder as Cid made his way further up, inching closer to the top. “Cid is getting closer and closer. Kipling is actually buying him time now!”
Cherry finally managed to break free of Kipling, only to receive a shot to the head with the hanging belt, courtesy of Cid. The dazed challenger fell back, crashing to the mat along with his hopes and dreams of winning the main event of Rise to Greatness. The crowd jeers as Cid takes the belt off the clip and falls off the ladder, hitting the canvas still as champion of the world. He clutched his belt, never wanting to let go. He’d done it. He won in the main event of Rise to Greatness. He had peaked.
“Damn it!” Sharper barked, clearly as sick of Cid’s fluky reign as the rest of the SCW audience. “Damn it all to hell!”
Cid was now having trouble breathing after laughing uncontrollably for the last several minutes. He leaned back, taking the time to catch his breath with a huge smile on his face. “Ohh, wow. That’s so good. That’s so good! It literally never gets old!”
Elizaveta approached from the shadows, standing just outside of the ring. “Hello. I’m Elizaveta,” she said as she looked at a cackling Cid through the ring ropes.
“Oh, hey, Liz. Bath time already? Let’s get going.”
Cid had basically lived life as an invalid. He felt like if he made one wrong move, he could somehow fall and be paralyzed for the rest of his life, or worse. So, he had his carers do everything for him. He no longer bathed himself. Once every two weeks, his Russian wife would give him a sponge bath. Clyde and Elizaveta would take turns making meals for everyone. Cid’s only exercise was working the treadmill, but both Clyde and Elizaveta had to be present to catch him just in case he fell off. He had actually lost the slightest bit of weight, but appeared to be in worse shape as most of his muscle mass was now absent. The last time Cid had left the house was to collect his new wife from the mailman.
Clyde hoped today would change everything. Clyde had a plan.
As Cid got ready for bed after his fortnightly bath, Elizaveta came running into his room, screaming in a panic, “hello, hello, hello!”
Cid backed up, startled. “What?! What’s going on?!”
“Hello!” she exclaimed, still in a panic and jumping up and down while pointing towards the bedroom door. “Hello, hello!”
“God damn it, Elizaveta! You’ve lived here for like five years! Please, just learn fucking English! For your king’s sake!”
“Hello!” she cried out one final time before running out of the room. Cid reluctantly followed her, jogging tenderly. He followed her back into the room where he had just been watching his career highlights earlier. Elizaveta continued shouting and pointing, this time towards the ring where Clyde seemed to be trapped in the corner between the top and bottom turnbuckles.
“Cid!” he cried, wiggling around in the corner. “I’m stuck!”
Cid looked around confused. “What?! Elizaveta, get him out of there!”
“No!” Clyde yelled. “I need a man! A strong man to release me from this hell!”
Cid climbed the steps and carefully entered the ring. He went behind Clyde and wrapped his arms around his waist and started to pull him from out between the ropes.
“No! Not from behind! I don’t trust men behind me! You have to do it from the front.”
“What?! This is ridiculous,” Cid said as he went and stood on the apron. “You don’t even look stuck. You’re just hugging the second rope. What the hell are you doing?”
“No, not from the apron! You have to get on the top turnbuckle. Get up there and pull and that should get me free!”
“God damn it, man. You’re supposed to be helping me! All right, just hold on,” he said. He started to climb the ropes. He got on the top turnbuckle and looked down. He hadn’t been this high up in a long time. He felt terrified. Anything could go wrong. Just like when he got injured in the first place… all it takes is one moment. One slip up. He felt like his life was in danger on this turnbuckle.
Suddenly, without any assistance from Cid, Clyde broke free. He leaped up, put Cid in a suplex position, then jumped backwards, hitting Cid with a superplex. They both came crashing down on the mat.
Cid couldn’t move. Or, rather, he was too scared to attempt to move. The fear of being paralyzed had paralyzed him and he laid completely still in the middle of the ring. Clyde had now gotten up and stood above him, looking down with a smile on his face. “I—… I’m paralyzed,” Cid announced. “I think I’m paralyzed.”
“No,” Clyde replied, still gazing down at his master with an unsettling smile. “No, you’re not. You’re better, man. I’m telling you. We’ve done everything that the Internet and Dr. Ed suggested. The Chinese are God damn brilliant and we’ve done every single thing that they suggested for your healing. Medicinal plants. Herbal pastes. Lighting incense. Magnets and shit! I even—… well. Look. I have to tell you something. Get up.”
“I can’t. I’m paralyzed.”
“Get up!” Clyde said with a shout as he stomped on Cid’s shoulder.
Cid quickly got up, rubbing his shoulder. “Ow! You idiot!”
“See! You’re completely fine! You took a suplex and you didn’t die and you’re up and walking.”
“No, no. I got lucky. That could have been really bad, but I got lucky. Never do that to me again,” he demanded, still rubbing his shoulder.
“Dude. You’re good. I have to tell you something…” Clyde warned ominously. His expression has changed from a look of joy to a look of slight fear. “When this shit happened to you, I did a lot of research. I wanted to help you get better. I read… so much… about stem cell research.”
“You mean that stuff about fetuses?” It was something Cid briefly looked into after his doctor had brought it up. The conversation about it was brought to an abrupt end once it was explained further. Cid wasn’t fond of children, but he had to draw a line somewhere. “No. I’m not into that.”
“Yeah, and I knew that. You know why? Because I know you. I knew you would be uncomfortable with the concept. So, I made it easier for you. For the last several years, I’ve been buying discarded fetuses on the black market,” Clyde revealed.
“… what?”
“Every dinner I’ve made you, I’ve mixed in some fetus,” he finally admitted. The weirdest thing about it all was despite it being a confession, Clyde’s biggest worry wasn’t about the black market fetus, but instead it seemed to be that he had lied to Cid. “Over the years, those fetuses have rebuilt your body,” he continued. “Cid. You might be in the best shape you’ve ever been in. Seriously, I’ve read so much about this stuff. It’s like you consume their souls and become superhuman!”
“Yeah… I mean, that makes sense,” Cid agreed. “The science checks out.”
“It does,” Clyde confirmed. He could sense Cid was starting to buy in. “Yeah, maybe you’ll go to hell for eating those fetuses. Maybe I’ll go to hell for force feeding them to you. We might even be haunted for the rest of our lives by the souls of those unborn children. Who knows, really? What I do know is… we have to see if this stuff worked. We’ve done all of these things to help you. It’s time to see if it paid off, man. No more sitting around all day, watching your old matches. We have to get you back in the ring.”
Cid put his hands on his hips and sighed, looking down at his feet.
“Listen, just… follow me, would you?” Clyde asked.
He led both Cid and his wife back to the bedroom and brought Cid in front of his suit of armor that was set up against the wall. Any shine it once had was now completely gone. Instead of gold, it was more of a disgusting bronze from all the corrosion and dust.
“Cid… you are wrestling royalty. You didn’t just call yourself a king. You were a king. Now, what does a king do?”
Cid breathed in and deeply blew out, his cheeks puffing out. He looked like a hairy puffer fish. “Sit around while everyone does everything for him?”
“No. Well, yes, actually… and you do that. That’s not what I’m talking about, though,” he says with a hand wave in the air. He continued. “A king fights. He doesn’t just quit when things don’t go his way. He can’t. He has to take care of business. That’s the responsibility that he carries, whether he likes it or not. Cid, you were born with a gift. You’re a great wrestler and a great entertainer. You can’t throw that away. You owe the world more than that. That might sound selfish of the world, but that’s just the way it is when you’re royalty, man. The world needs leaders. You’re a king. A king never gives up. He fights until the very end. A king fights.”
Cid could only groan in response. He stood, arms folded, just staring at his old cuirass. He wanted to fight. He wanted to get back in the ring and tear it up. He just didn’t know if he could. Or, even if he could, if it would even be safe to do so. He especially couldn’t imagine going up in front of a giant crowd right now. He felt scared enough stepping out of his front door. Clyde looked at him hopefully, dreaming his hero was on the verge of coming back to the life he was meant to live. Cid sighed sharply.
“Sorry to say it, kid… but the king is dead.”
February 13, 2013 – The Day Cid Turner Died
“What does a king do? I’ll tell you, he never gives up. He fights for his people. He fights for the betterment of the world. A king fights. Tonight, I’m not fighting for myself. I’m fighting for all of you. I’m fighting for us. For TCW!”
The gathering of his protégés all cheered, lifted up by his words. It may have not been the best speech, but being in a shining suit of gold armor seemed to add some weight to Cid’s words. Everyone scattered, either getting into their positions for the show or going to get ready for their matches. They were just minutes away from holding their first full show for Turner Championship Wrestling. Despite it just being a test run to gauge interests from potential hosting networks, everyone was ready to put everything on the line, including Cid. He began to worry, however, when Elizabeth was still nowhere to be seen after her earlier departure. Suddenly, he felt a hand on the shoulder of his armor. She came back for him.
“Oh, Elizabeth,” Cid started as he went to turn around. “I’m so glad— GAH!”
Staring back at him was not Elizabeth, but instead Clyde with a dazed smile on his face. He was now sporting a neck brace after being mauled by Cid earlier.
“What the hell are you doing here?! I thought they took you to the hospital!”
“Oh, yeah, they sorted me out. I just have to stay off this old thing,” Clyde said as he gestured towards his neck.
“You have to stay off your neck? What— you—… you know what? Good. Stay off of your neck. We wish you a speedy recovery. Where’s Liz?”
“Who?”
“ELIZABETH, YOU DOPE! What’s the matter with you?”
“Oh! Elizabeth. Duh,” he said as he playfully smacked his own head, which lead to him clutching his neck in pain. “Yeah, she’s coming up now as well. I was just so excited, I ran up here as fast as I could. She shouldn’t be far behind.”
“You sprinted up here with a neck brace on? Aren’t you supposed to be taking it easy? Wait… shit, you didn’t tell her what happened to you, did you?”
Clyde shrugged. “I don’t even know what happened, dude. The doctors said that I got a concussion. I can’t remember shit! I asked the boys and they told me to ask you.”
“Oh, thank God,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. It was a bump in the road on the path of becoming a great teacher and an even better person. If continuing down this road led to reconciliation with Elizabeth, he couldn’t let her know of the slip up. “I mean… oh. That sucks you can’t remember. Well, we had a quick spar and—“
“Whoa, wait. We had a match?! I faced Cid Turner?!”
“Well… it wasn’t official or anything,” replied Cid in an annoyed tone. The reminder of his loss stung, but it seemed that Clyde didn’t even remember it. Cid wondered if the concussion came from getting clipped in the back of the head with a chair or if he got it in the multiple times he was dropped while being carried out of the building. Either way, he was pleased that the result was stricken from somebody’s memory. “But, yeah, we sparred. You went to the top rope and fell off and you’re now severely injured. Ha! You idiot! You really are hopeless, huh?”
“Wow. I can’t believe we shared the ring together,” Clyde said, oblivious to Cid’s insults. “I feel… elation. Could just be the concussion messing with my brain.”
“No, no. I have that effect on people. You’re honored to share a ring with me and I honestly can’t blame you, kid. By the way, you talked to me about Balls Deep. I’m not sure if you remember. I just wanted to say, it’s a great move. You’ve perfected it. In fact, I can honestly say that – as a teacher – I’m so proud of—“ Cid stops as he sees Elizabeth coming through the small crowd of workers, tailed by his driver. “Move, asshole!” he said, shoving his way by Clyde and running to Elizabeth. “Liz! I’m so glad you’re back! Okay, look, I had people bring their friends and family to the show tonight to fill out seats in the crowd. I want you to be out there. Front row. You deserve the best seat in the house.”
“Oh, well! I couldn’t possibly refuse such a gift,” she laughed. “I’m glad to be here for you guys. Just wanted to say—“
“Oh, by the way. Be as loud as possible. Like, don’t screech. Add some bass to your voice, but be loud as hell. It’s not a full house, so we have to be enthusiastic out there. Even though we’re not officially airing this, we don’t want to come off as minor league.”
“Sure thing, I’ll get rowdy out there! It’s been awhile since I’ve been to one of your shows, man. I’ll give it my all. Cid, I wanted to to tell you—“
A stagehand came from behind Cid, getting in his ear. “Ready to go, boss!”
“Oh, all right, let’s do it,” he said back. He turned back to Elizabeth and started to guide her through the curtain to her seat. “Hold that thought. I have to take care of business. Just go through that curtain and find your seat. I’ll see you out there, yeah?”
He leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek. He suddenly felt awkward and completely froze. He was unsure if he just committed a non-consensual act of love. A peck assault. The tension was soon broken though as Elizabeth gave him a peck back. “Yup. See you out there,” she replied. She disappeared through the curtain, leaving behind an elated Cid Turner. He was where he belonged. Teaching the next generation. Caring for others. Back on track with the only love of his life. Now, finally, stood behind the curtain, making his return to the ring after a year-long absence.
May 20, 2020 – Seven Years a Phantom
Clyde brought a blindfolded Cid up to the curtain, stopping him right in front of it.
“All right, Cid. Stand there. Give me just a few seconds. I’ll give you the signal and when you hear it, take your blindfold off and walk through for your gift.”
“Okay,” Cid said, not sure if he felt comfortable with a blindfold on near Clyde. He seemed so creepy. He was so nice and would do anything for Cid, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Clyde was hiding a much more disturbing persona underneath it all. Might have something to do with him buying fetuses and putting them in Cid’s food without his knowledge. Who knows, really? “Wait, what’s the signal?”
“Oh, you’ll know.”
Clyde tried his best to quietly sneak through the curtain and make his way down to ringside. Waiting for him was Elizaveta, Cid’s Russian mail-order bride. They both stood in the ring on opposite sides of Cid’s huge lounge chair that he sat in every day to watch his career highlights. Today would likely go the same way, but with a slight difference hanging over it.
Today was Cid Turner’s 40th birthday.
Reaching 40 might have triggered a crisis in Cid’s life if he was still competing, but at this point, it was just another day. Despite an attempt by Clyde to bring him back to the ring months ago, Cid still hadn’t budged. He was content with wasting the rest of his life watching the best of his life.
Clyde pressed a button on a remote, triggering ‘Dead Star’ by Muse to start playing throughout the small stage area.
At the sound of his last entrance theme, Cid took his blindfold off and stepped through the curtain. As he stepped through, Clyde and Elizaveta shot off party poppers, which didn’t even have enough oomph behind them to make it out of the ring, but it was a nice gesture. Clyde threw down the popper and grabbed a microphone.
“Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday!” he screamed into the mic while hopping up and down.
Clyde put the mic in Elizaveta’s face. “Hello! I’m Elizaveta!”
Clyde quickly took the mic back. “She doesn’t understand, but that’s okay, it’s fine! Happy Birthday!”
Cid sighed and started to make his way to the ring as his music blared out.
“And now, making his way to the ring! Weighing in at 200 something pounds, he is King America! King of the World! SCW Hall of Famer! He is – quite frankly – everything! Cid God damn Turner!”
It was an odd feeling. He felt embarrassed – or maybe even mad, almost – that Clyde had forced this wrestling entrance upon him… but as soon as his name was called over that music, he was overcome with some sort of nostalgic excitement. He’d been living in the past for so long, but to hear his name announced live once again seemed to awaken something in him.
Clyde started chanting on the mic. “THIS IS AWE-SOME! Boom, boom, boomboomboom. THIS IS AWE-SOME! Boom, boom, boomboomboom.”
Cid climbed up the apron and entered the ring, prompting both Clyde and Elizaveta to light up some sparklers and wave them around.
“HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!”
Cid took his seat as the sparklers began the fade. Clyde chucked his behind him and pressed the remote, turning the music off.
“Happy Birthday, Cid!”
“Birthday!” Elizaveta exclaimed.
“Oh!” said Clyde, startled by Elizaveta’s new word. “Dude. She’s learning. It took her six years, but she’s learning English. This is truly a beautiful day of birth.”
“Hello, birthday!” she said with a smile, looking down at Cid.
Cid just stared ahead at the titantron, not really responding much to the spectacle. “All right. Thanks, guys. It was good to live like a star for a day. Now, back to my boring normal people life.”
Clyde felt disappointed. He really hoped this would make Cid see that he misses the life of being a wrestler, deep down inside. He didn’t like seeing Cid directly after his injury. He was similar in a lot of ways. He was quiet, depressed, and waiting to die. The difference was that he wanted to get back in the ring. He wanted to continue life as a teacher and a performer. Over the years, that desire seemed to fade away. Now, he was all the things he was right after the injury, except he had no passion left. Clyde was starting to think that it wasn’t coming back despite his best efforts.
“All right, well,” Clyde began, “what’s on the menu for today? US title win? Rise to Greatness 2007 return? Kicking Rachel Foxx’s ass? Anything for your big birthday, Cid.”
“You know what? I’m feeling… nostalgic,” Cid admitted. He may not have brought Cid out of retirement, but Clyde stirred something up in Cid. He was about to break a tradition that had been going on for nearly seven years. “I wanna spend my fortieth with my friends.”
“You mean…”
“Yes. Bring me the footage you compiled of Chad, Matt, and James.”
“You wanna go real old school? I got some stuff of Jay Gold.”
“Oh, God. No,” Cid replied in disgust. “I’m not that lonely.”
And so, Clyde played him the compilations of the SCW stars. Cid’s only friends.
Chad Evans.
“Oh, Chad. I’m sorry about everything that happened between us. I shouldn’t have turned my back on you. We should have run SCW together. We should have done it all… together. You may be a despicable human being, but underneath it all… well… no, you’re pretty despicable, but I know you’re capable of so much more. If I were there, you wouldn’t need to need a woman to abuse. You’d have me. You’d have me!”
Matt Hodges.
“Hodges… the first man to win Taking Hold of the Flame and win the championship in the main event at Rise to Greatness. You made history, son. You’re world class. I’m so, so proud of you. I forgive you for ditching me for Chad and Alexis Rayne. I should have treated you better. Maybe it could have been you and I teaming together in 2011 instead of you and Chad. Oh, what could have been, Matthew. Ah… it doesn’t matter. I’m such a proud papa.”
James Exeter.
“No. James. Matt. Please, don’t fight. You’re a team. Team Turner. Ohh, I’m so sorry, my children. I should have never left you. Yet… you did so well without me. James always lived up to the moniker. Winning Taking Hold of the Flame… beating Shawn Winters to win the world title at Rise to Greatness. You beat that arrogant bastard Shawn Winters, fair and square. James… you really are extraordinary. You really are.”
Cid was now stood at the top of the stage, standing right in front of the titantron that was in the process of playing the highlights of his only friends over the years. As Exeter celebrated defeating Winters at Rise to Greatness in 2009, the footage cut out.
Clyde’s voice rang out from behind the curtain. “Cid, I got something else you might like. This was from last month.”
The screen lit back up, shining down on an emotional Cid. It was a static shot of the inside of an arena at an SCW show. After a couple seconds, the footage started.
“I want it all!
I want it all!
I want it all!
And I want it now!”
“No…” Cid mumbled. Matt Hodges appeared on screen, stepping out from behind the curtain and taking his time looking out at a crowd that he hadn’t seen in almost ten years. And just as Matt looked out at the crowd, Cid looked at Matt. He was in total awe. He was just like every one of those fans in the seats. He hadn’t seen Matt Hodges in almost ten years either. They missed him, and he missed him. It didn’t matter that Matt thought he was a buffoon. This was Matt Hodges, formerly of Team Turner. He would forever be part of Cid’s life.
“Hodges…”
He reached forward and touched the screen. He felt like he could feel the energy of the arena coursing through him. The electric crowd. The loud music. The stunning pyrotechnics. The stretching of the ropes as you were thrown up against them. The beautiful slamming of the mat, pain and all. The superstars. Family.
The footage cut out. Cid leaned even further forward and pressed his forehead against the screen, now facing down with his eyes closed. He cried. The last time he cried, he felt it had meaning. It was an important moment in his life. It was a sign of growth. He threw that growth away to become a recluse. Now, he felt like his tears meant nothing. His life had no meaning. It was just sad and empty.
“Cid?” Clyde gently called out, now standing behind him, just off to the side. Cid just continued to quietly sob. “Isn’t it awesome? Look at everything him and James have done. You’re responsible for all that, taking them under your wing. Now he’s back. It’s great, huh? They were so lucky to have you.”
“I did nothing,” he replied, sniffling. “I’m just a… just a dumb, fat deadbeat dad. I walked out the door one day and left those two beautiful boys with daddy issues for the rest of their lives. I looked after them for a couple of months. They did the rest themselves. They made their mark without my help. I wish I was there for them. To see them blossom into what they are today. Instead of throwing tantrums and feeling sorry for myself, I should have been there for them. They weren’t lucky to have me, man. I was lucky to have them.”
Clyde wanted to disagree, but he couldn’t. Team Turner’s tenure was extremely brief. The only reason Cid cared this much was because it was two people that tolerated him in a sea of people that didn’t. Clyde knew it. Cid knew it. Instead of acknowledging the facts, Clyde changed the subject to something he felt was much more important. “You know, if Matt came back… maybe you could too?”
“I can’t… I’m hurt.”
“So was he.”
“I’m more hurt,” Cid protested like a child.
“You’re not, dude. I’m telling you, go to the doctor and get it checked again. We did literally everything we could for seven years. Seven years, you’ve been healing. If me or Elizaveta left tomorrow, you could perfectly function as a normal human being.”
“That’s not true. Don’t say that.”
“You don’t need us anymore,” Clyde continued, ignoring Cid. “You don’t need us to help you exercise or to help you bathe or to cook you food. If you can take a suplex, you can do all of that shit. You’re ready to start living again and you’re ready to get back into the ring. That’s your life. Not this. Every day, trying to relive your past. Damn it, dude. You can make new memories. I know you can. I know you still have that fire in you. That fire can carry you, right back to the top.”
Cid finally opened his eyes back up but continued looking down at the ground. “I love watching myself. I love living in those moments. Only problem I have is… I look at myself and see how happy I am. I just want to talk to that version of myself and tell him to stop. You’re gonna get old. You’re gonna be alone. You’re going to regret everything you’ve ever done. The accolades won’t matter anymore. You’ll wish you had done better. You’ll wonder if that flame is gonna fade,” Cid said as he finally turned his head to the side to look at Clyde, head still planted against the screen. “What if that fire’s fading? What if I get back there and there’s just nothing left? What do I do if that fire goes out?”
“Shit, I don’t know,” he replied honestly. It was a possibility. Time had taken away the abilities of more capable human beings than Cid Turner many times before. He took a couple seconds to think. “Throw yourself onto the pyre. If you go out, you’ll go out blazing.” Cid peeled himself off of the titantron and walked up to Clyde, stopping right in front of him. “Please, man. You have to go back. You have to at least try.”
Cid looked him in the eye and sighed. Everything Clyde wanted, he wanted too. He wanted to admit it. He wanted to embrace it. He even wanted to attempt it. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it and he didn’t even know why. He was completely aware that he was getting in the way of himself once again, but he couldn’t overcome such an obstacle. “Thank you, Clyde.”
“Holy shit, you remembered my name,” he blurted out. He was nearly moved to tears, but quickly snapped out of it. “Wait, for what?”
“For being my friend.”
Cid gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder before he started walking down the ramp.
“Oh… it’s—… wait, what’s happening? Are you coming back?”
“I’m going to bed.”
“Dude, it’s not even noon!” Clyde called out to Cid, who was now nearing the exit of the room.
“It’s my birthday. I can do whatever I want.”
February 13, 2013 – The Day Cid Turner Died
‘Crack Addict’ by Limp Bizkit was cranked, blasting throughout the cozy Turner Championship Wrestling ‘arena’.
“God damn it. You guys got my song wrong! That’s my old one!”
The production staff could barely hear Cid over the music and the small but enthusiastic crowd. For some reason, Clyde was shadowing everyone at production because he had nothing better to do. He just shrugged in reply to Cid, once again hurting his neck in the process.
He stepped through the curtain, onto the stage, and nothing else mattered. The cheering crowd of friends and family, the music, the ring announcer, the clanking of Cid’s armor. It was all white noise. He couldn’t focus on anything else. After over a year of not competing in a match, he felt overcome with emotion now that the moment of return was finally here.
Before he knew it, he was already in the ring, having his armor taken off by the referee. Opposite Cid was his opponent. A big, young powerhouse that went by the ring name ‘Wrath’. As Cid’s music began to fade out, he took a moment to talk to Wrath. “Hey, I just wanted to say that I respect your work ethic coming here from a foreign country. I’m honored to teach a young man who has risked everything to fight in the land of the free.”
“What? I’ve told you, I’m from Canada. I didn’t come from a third world country.”
“Dude, your accent is crazy,” Cid replied as he backed up towards his corner. “I love it. I love all cultures. Good luck, man!”
“I just sound like you! I’m a middle class white dude!”
As both men stood in their respective corners, the bell rang. Cid took a moment to look around at what he created. He stood in what he hoped was a well set up ring. There was the impressive titantron and entrance ramp. The screaming fans, including his very special guest, Elizabeth. He even hired two announcers for the event, including a young female talent that had some experience calling football games for her high school. It was the first woman he had hired to work under him. Gone were the days of his extreme sexism. He could feel the improvements he was making as a member of society. Who was he to say that women aren’t just as good as men? He was even considering taking on a female student. He was truly—
Wrath had just executed a huge corner splash, breaking Cid’s train of thought and leaving him collapsed in the lower corner. Cid looked at the hoss up above him, taunting him. He considered going back to the well and hitting him with a classic Cid Turner royal low blow, but no. He had already beaten the hell out of a student earlier in the day. One was enough.
Wrath played to the crowd a bit, leaving Cid sometime to collect himself and bring himself back up. He looked towards Elizabeth, who gave him an encouraging thumbs up. She had a huge smile on her face and seemed to be having the time of her life watching Cid get manhandled.
The match continued. It was the best Cid had felt in years. He felt like he may have lost a step in a few departments, but his mind felt sharper than ever before. Was it veteran instinct kicking in? Could it be Elizabeth’s presence helped him not only out of the ring, but in it? He didn’t even consider the possibility that being in a healthy state of mind could improve your attitude and approach in the squared circle. Or maybe it was just because he was facing someone extremely green. Whatever it was, for the first time since losing his championship in 2006, Cid felt totally in control. Every move had some extra snap to it, every movement more fluid than the last as he began to fully settle in.
About ten minutes in, Cid still had his wind. After spilling out of the ring, both competitors now battled outside. Cid got the upper hand, dropping Wrath with a suplex on the outside. He took a minute to pose in front of Elizabeth, hoping this display of dominance would awaken some more primal feelings within her. This was his mating call. King Cid – in this moment – was on top of the world once again. The tide turned, however, as Wrath blasted the showboating Cid from behind. He lifted Cid up in a suplex position, but instead of directly returning the favor with a suplex of his own, he dropped him on the apron with something that most closely resembled a release brainbuster. Cid’s upper body folded, his chin slamming against his own chest. Wrath slid in the ring as Cid rolled from the edge of the apron to the closest corner to him.
Cid went to get up, but couldn’t even get on all fours. He tried to support himself using his forearms, only to fall right back down on his chest. It felt like both of his arms had fallen asleep. Upon seeing this, the referee slid down to Cid and squeezed his hand, waiting for a squeeze back to let him know Cid was still good to go. Instead, he basically received a dead fish handshake. Cid tried his best to give a squeeze, but there wasn’t much behind it.
“Cid, you okay? Tell me something good,” the referee requested. Wrath came from behind to see what was happening, leading to the referee to cut him off with a hand to his chest. “Hold on, hold on. Think something’s up.”
Cid finally got on all fours. The tingling and numbness hadn’t left his arms fully, but it managed to go away enough for Cid to get in a position to compose himself.
The referee faced back towards Cid and whispered towards him. “You all right, Cid? Want me to call it?”
“No,” he said with almost no confidence. He always hated stingers. The thought of them potentially being something much more was a natural fear to have while experiencing one. “No, I’m good. I just needed a sec.”
“You sure?”
“Just call the match,” he replied brusquely.
“All good, bud.”
Cid managed to bring himself up into the corner. He felt something was off, but it seemed like the tingling that had been going all the way down to his fingers was starting to fade. Good enough, he figured. The show must go on. The referee returned to the middle of the ring, letting both competitors know that the match is back on track. Cid nodded in the direction of both the referee and his opponent.
Cid started to charge out of the corner to attack. Wrath went for a clothesline in retaliation, but came up empty. He looked back, expecting Cid to be coming after him, but learned that the clothesline wasn’t dodged intentionally. Cid had fallen back down, his collapse at least helping him avoid decapitation. The numbness and tingling returned in full force, except it had now spread to both of his legs, effectively turning his legs into two strips of rubber.
“Shit… shit, shit, shit,” he muttered repeatedly. He felt tingling all over. He couldn’t even begin to try and get up. Despite feeling like he was possibly on the verge of death, he wanted to finish the match. The referee once again slid towards him and gave his hand a squeeze. “No… wait…” he said weakly, but the referee had already gotten up to ring the bell. “Damn it. God damn it. Just… wait.”
Cid looked out at the crowd with his face pushed up against the mat. There was no cheering and no jeering. Just looks of confusion and concern among the eerie silence. The air had been completely sucked out of his homemade wrestling center to the point where he could hear the shuffling of feet from the back coming down the ramp to check on him. It was embarrassing.
A handful of people crowded him, all barking orders at each other about what they should be doing. It was the second time today that Cid regretted not hiring medical personnel. His own idiocy almost distracted him from the fact that he was basically paralyzed in the middle of the ring. A wrestling center without a doctor around. They didn’t even have a stretcher to carry Clyde out and now they didn’t have a stretcher to carry himself out. For years, he was carried out to the ring on a throne, but never thought he’d possibly need to be carried out of the ring by a stretcher. He felt like a complete fool.
Elizabeth was now in the ring, set up just behind him, leaning in close.
“Cid, are you okay?” she asked. She sounded so worried. She actually cared. Someone actually cared for him, of all people. It almost made him smile despite the circumstances. “Cid?” she asked again.
He was surrounded. Just before they all converged to help their leader up, Cid finally replied to Elizabeth.
“I felt like myself again… I felt like myself.”
June 1, 2020 – Day after Taking Hold of the Flame
That’s it, Cid thought as he looked down. He was shaking. It was a long way down. I’m gonna jump. Enough is enough. I can’t keep living like this. No more.
Cid jumped and twisted his body around in the air, crossing his arms across his chest like he was being laid to rest. Maybe he was. This could be it.
He yelped as he crashed down onto the mat, basically doing a jumping trust fall off of the top turnbuckle. He laid back on the mat, afraid to open his eyes as he laid there wincing. In front of those closed eyes, he expected the gates of heaven. While it was a comforting thought to imagine that he made it to heaven rather than hell, he didn’t quite feel ready to make the journey there. He was only weeks removed from Clyde Warner convincing him that maybe he could make another run. He, of course, never directly admitted this to Clyde.
“WHAT?!” Clyde shouted from the exit of the room in the distance.
Cid opened his eyes, not to the inviting sight of the pearly gates, but instead to the giant ceiling fan spinning above the ring. “Who the—“ he started as he quickly pulled himself back up. Standing in the doorway was Clyde. “Elizaveta! You were supposed to be guarding the door!” he shouted to his Russian bride. She was sitting next to the door, reading a book. She looked up and shrugged before going back to her book. “You don’t understand a word I’m saying, do you? God damn it.”
Clyde officially entered the room, making his way to the ring. “I knew it. I knew it! I knew there was a reason you watched Taking Hold of the Flame with me yesterday! I got through to you, didn’t I? You watched some SCW and you felt that fire in you, didn’t you?! Wow… all because of me,” he proudly declared as he stood up on the ring apron.
“No! I was just… trying to clean the fans. I had to climb the buckle to get that high and I slipped. That’s right, I slipped! Where were you to catch me?!”
“You were taking bumps. You were taking top rope bumps, you magnificent son of a bitch.”
Cid sighed and walked over to the corner, slumping down until sitting on the mat. He didn’t know what to do. All he could do was blankly stare ahead.
“What’s wrong?” Clyde asked.
“I don’t know, man. I think I want back. It’s just… I’m just… scared,” Cid admitted. “I’m super scared. I’m scared like a… like a little bitch. I’m a scared little bitch boy, Clyde.”
“That’s fine. What you went through was messed up. It’d shake anyone, really. You survived though and you’re stronger because of it. That and because I’ve been force feeding you fetuses for the last several years.”
“No, it— well, first of all, please stop reminding me of that. Like, thanks, but also, please stop.” Clyde shrugged and nodded. “It’s not just that, though. I mean, that ‘match’ seven years ago, I felt good. I felt real good. Before that, though? I hadn’t felt good in the ring for a long damn time. I get in an SCW ring now, there’s no possible way I’m the same competitor. If that’s the case, what’s the point? Why am I here?”
“You’re not the same. You never will be.”
“Oh, okay, that’s great,” Cid remarked sarcastically. “Thanks for your help.”
“You can be something else, though. You can be something new. You’ve evolved so much as a person and you can evolve just as much as a competitor. You can be… Cid Turner… 2.0.”
“What, like go bionic? Do you think I’d be cleared to compete with robotic body parts? Hm,” Cid wondered aloud. “It’s not something I’ve really considered, but it’s an interesting idea.”
“Whoa. That sounds awesome,” he said as they both took a moment to imagine all the possibilities Cid could have as SCW’s first half-man, half-robot competitor. Not only would he be calculatingly efficient in the ring, but it would probably open up opportunities for sponsorship. Who wouldn’t want to support such progress in society? “No, wait, that’s not what I mean, though. I mean… sure, you’ll never be 2006 Cid Turner. You’ll never be 2011 Cid Turner either, for better or for worse. Who’s to say, though, that 2020 Cid Turner isn’t the best Cid Turner ever? Who’s to say that this version of you isn’t your prime?”
Cid took a minute to think. It sounded like bullshit. It probably was. At this point, he felt Clyde would say just about anything to get him back into the ring. “I don’t know. It sounds like a pipe dream. I wanna believe, but honestly… I’m just useless. I’m an invalid… with no hope in life. I’m about as useful as Jay Gold at a whorehouse.”
“Yeah, well—“
“I’m about as useful as The Real Speed in any match that isn’t a hardcore match.”
“Right, but—“
“I’m about as useful as Greg Cherry in a beauty contest. A beauty contest that also judges you on your personality for some reason.”
“Yes, but—“
“I’m about as useful as Brian Kinney if—“
“No!” Clyde quickly interrupted with a finger in the air.
“Huh?”
“Not now. Not in 2020.”
Cid shrugged. The world had passed him by.
“Look,” Clyde continued, “you’re not useless. You need motivation. Having me here, hyping you up? It’s great. I’m an incredible hype man… but it’s not enough. You need a real reason to get back into SCW. What you need… is a purpose, Cid. Think about it. You’re the king. You want to make your kingdom a better place. What’s the first thing you do to reinstate your position as king?”
He had to think. What could inspire him to actually go through with this? It would have to be something absolutely grand. He watched Taking Hold of the Flame with Clyde. He had watched some of the previous Breakdowns, the first time he’d watched SCW in almost ten years. He didn’t even know half the people. Running down and taking out someone he hardly knew – like Taking Hold of the Flame winner David Helms – or someone he had never even heard of before – like World Champion Bree Lancaster – would mean nothing to him.
There was Jay Gold, who had apparently made a recent return. Sure, it would please him to beat the hell out of his old friend, but not enough for it to actually mean anything. Jay was harmless. Annoying, but harmless. He seemed to be doing the best he could. If anything, Cid could learn a thing or two from the veteran.
Making an example of Jake Starr was also a noteworthy idea. Cid was still of the belief that Jake Starr was trying desperately to be like him but failing miserably. In reality, Jake had surpassed him in every way. Facing him could lead to total humiliation for Cid.
Xander Valentine? No. He didn’t want his return to begin and end with him being murdered immediately.
Who was there that was worthy enough to be taken out by Cid Turner, but safe enough to not embarrass him by beating his ass?
Then it came to him.
“Oh… my… God. I know what I want to do,” he announced, his eyes now lit up.
“Yeah, yeah?” Clyde asked as he entered the ring and squatted down towards Cid, who was still slouching in the corner.
“I want to punch CHBK in the fucking face.”
Cid smiled as silence filled the room. Clyde stared at him as he looked ahead blankly with that smile on his face, looking like a complete psychopath. “So, your motivation to return to SCW… after almost a ten year hiatus… is to punch CHBK in the face?”
“Punch CHBK in the fucking face.”
“To punch CHBK in the fuckin’ face,” he repeated back to him. Cid nodded, still staring ahead with a demented smile on his face. “Cid… this has to be one of the best ideas you’ve ever had! And that’s saying somethin’!” Clyde laughed loudly and threw his hand up for a high five, but Cid was still focused on smiling like a maniac. A disappointed Clyde let his hand down, but suddenly remembered something. “Wait, what about Syren and them? Infamous.”
Cid finally snapped out of his deranged state of mind. “Oh, shit, you’re right. Damn it, I can’t stand up to all of them! I’m not even sure if I could stand up to one of ’em…”
“Hey, look. It doesn’t matter. It’s fine. Just punch CHBK in the fuckin’ face. Get that done and we’ll see where that takes us. It’s a start, isn’t it?”
“You’re right. It needs to happen. Who knows? Maybe everyone will be so happy that I punched CHBK in the fucking face that they’ll let me take the title from that bitch Lancaster. You know what? I think that’s exactly what’s going to happen,” Cid said, exhaling with relief and excitement. “I can’t believe it. I’m actually gonna do this.”
“You’re damn right you are,” Clyde said as he stood up and offered a hand to Cid. Cid accepted it, leading to Clyde picking him up and immediately embracing him. For once, the embrace was reciprocated by Cid. Clyde was about to cry. Cid was about to cry. Elizaveta was in the corner with no clue as to what was going on due to the linguistic barrier. After a long and awkward embrace, Clyde whispered to himself.
“Royalty has returned.”
Present Day
“Tell me. I’m… interested. What have they been saying about me?”
Cid once again sat in his personal studio, constructed over seven years prior for the purpose of giving everyone in his now defunct wrestling promotion a space to record whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Now, he was finding it convenient for his personal use after his return to SCW.
“Well,” Clyde Warner began from behind the camera as he fiddled with some settings, “there has been some love.”
“Oh?” Cid perked up. He always enjoyed being praised. It was a rarity back in his heyday.
“Well, I mean… you got a couple of shouts that weren’t negative. Cookie Dreams, Jay Gold… there might have been another one.”
“They were positive?”
“They weren’t negative, I’ll say.” He was purposefully being vague.
“There was negativity?”
“Oh, well…” Clyde’s voice trailed off as he tried to act focused on setting up the camera. He didn’t want to hurt Cid’s confidence so close to Rise to Greatness.
“Well? Well, what?!”
“Well… look, Regan Street—“
“Who?”
“She’s the wife of David Helms. You know her, I’m sure. She didn’t mention you by name exactly, but she didn’t have kind words for the recent returning performers such as yourself. Uh, Sienna Swann, she did mention you by name. Kind of the same deal… you’re not welcome here, you’re a retread, you’re a real piece of shit. You know, that kinda thing.”
“Retread…?” he wondered aloud, his gaze suddenly shifting towards the floor.
“Yup. Syren called you six years old a couple weeks back as well. You might have missed that.”
Cid looked back up, trying to get a look at Clyde who was still hiding behind the camera. “I saw it, but like… I think she meant because of my childlike wonder and hope for the future. Right?”
“Oh, no, she said it because you and Asher are stupid,” Clyde quickly and bluntly clarified. “Oh, right, Holly Adams also said you looked like you just finished a game of Jumanji. You know, because you look homeless and stinky.”
Once again, Cid found himself staring at the floor, muttering to himself. “She can be so cruel…”
“All right, we’re ready! Let’s get into it!”
“By the time this hits the air, we’ll be just a day away from Rise to Greatness. A day away from a monumental clash between Hall of Fame members… damn it, wait. I keep forgetting Asher’s not in the illustrious circle. Man, can we start over?”
“I’ll cut it out, I’ll cut it out! Keep going,” the voice behind the camera urged. Cid sighed, taking a moment to get back on track.
“A day away from the pay-per-view debut of A/C Unit… and we couldn’t have chosen a better pay-per-view. We have a chance to make an immediate impact on the most grand platform possible, vaulting ourselves to the top of the tag team rankings by triumphing over one of the most renowned tag teams the industry has ever seen.
There’s just… something about tag team wrestling, isn’t there? Don’t get me wrong, standing across from your opponent in a one-on-one affair is an exhilarating experience. Really, there’s nothing quite like it… but tagging is just such a unique experience.
Asher and I, we’re pretty different. Honestly, I barely know the guy. I know he’s been a champion a few times over the years, as far back as 2009 even. I know he’s dated Rachel Foxx, which I guess makes me feel connected to him in a way since Rachel was the first person to be on the opposite side of the ring from me when I attempted a comeback almost ten years ago. I know that underneath his… roguish… exterior, he’s a good person. I know just by getting to know him over the last couple of weeks that we’re different. Beyond that, though… I don’t know much.
That’s the beauty of it, though. On Sunday, we’re gonna be in a dogfight against two of the baddest bitches in the yard. Two men who could have easily had nothing to do with each other for their entire lives will find themselves working together in a unique collaboration that could possibly stand the test of time and by the end of the night, we’ll could find ourselves standing tall over Dark Fantasy, which – from what I’ve heard – will be a pretty big deal.
And it’s perfectly fitting. I started my career in a tag team. It’s probably something that’s forgotten by most of the audience by this point. It’s weird, but I have to imagine that most of the fans that have welcomed me back are probably my age at this point, if not older. The other portion welcoming me back is probably just happy to cheer and clap along with the rest of the crowd. But, yes, while I may have made my name with a brief – but notable – singles run, I started my career mostly competing in tag matches with my brother. I’m a proud former tag team champion.
You already knew that, though, didn’t you, Syren, Ravyn? Oh-ho-ho, you guys probably know more about myself than I do at this particular time, don’t you? That’s all part of your game. You lurk around, rubbing your hands together evilly, scheming, plotting, learning of every single strength and weakness of anyone that dares to stand in your way. It’s almost comical. If you were capable of growing them, I’d have to imagine that you guys would be twirling your mustaches as you vowed to end the A/C Unit before it even has a change to begin.
Well, just like you don’t have to further educate yourselves as to who I am, I don’t have to educate myself on who you two are. It’s all I’ve heard about since I returned. If not from you, then from the fans. If not from the fans, then maybe from Asher. If not from Asher, then from myself. I’m constantly thinking about what I’ve put myself up against. If I’m being honest, there have been several points where your reputations have made me wonder if I should just go home. I mean, you’ve been built up so much by so many different sources. I’m constantly thinking of this incredible obstacle set up before me. By now, it’s gonna be hard not to feel some disappointment after we finally meet in the ring. But… if there’s anyone who could live up to such infamy, it’d be you guys, wouldn’t it?
I mean, that’s what I assume, at least. Because there has been some quiet chatter about how maybe Syren isn’t quite what she used to be. You’ve even made mention of said chatter yourself, Syren, which only makes me think that there’s at least a hint of truth to it. So, here’s the part where I lay into you, telling you that what everyone says is true! You’re not as good as you once were and I’m gonna tell you all about it… right? Well, no. I’m not gonna waste my time with that. Because I don’t choose to believe that. Syren, your list of accolades is so damn big that if I were to start listing them off, my camera would run out of battery. As for you, Ravyn, I have this portrait of you in my mind… you seem like you could have easily just settled with being the brains of the operation, but you don’t settle for that, do you? The accomplishments on your docket are more impressive than over half the people in SCW. I can’t overlook you. Hell, you’re the one who laid out the challenge! You deserve more than being an afterthought.
So, yeah, I’m not buying into whatever bullshit rumors are being spread about you, because I don’t wanna believe that. I wanna believe that I’m going against the greatest SCW has to offer because I wanna prove that there’s a real purpose to my return. I’m not here to retread the same ground. I don’t give a damn who else has returned to SCW and what they’re now doing to their legacies. I’m Cid Turner. For better or for worse, I’m me. I’ve been a brother, a tag partner, a buffoon, a ‘Dynasty’ member, an underling to God Himself, King America, a King of the World, a leader, a woman hater, a failure, I’ve done so many different things… and this return will be no different. At Rise to Greatness, I may be walking down that ramp as SCW ‘royalty’, but I’m no king. I’m just a man. A man who punched CHBK in the face and now finds himself facing the biggest challenge of his entire career. Now, what will I be known as when I hang it up at the end of all this? Who knows, really? Only time will tell. What I do know is that after Rise to Greatness, I’ll be known as one half of A/C Unit, the tag team that took out Dark Fantasy, once and for all.”
“And… scene,” Clyde whispered as he stopped recording,
“Please don’t say that. Hey, remember to cut out that part about me forgetting that Asher’s not in the Hall of Fame. I don’t want to look like an idiot in front of everyone.”
“Oh, of course. How could I forget?” he asked, just hours before forgetting.
THE RISE OF THE FALLEN KING 