The ring was showered with boos as Cid Turner rolled into the ring and – for once – they weren’t directed at him. He got up and just stared at Dark Fantasy. In that moment, it was hard not to doubt his decisions. He’d spent the last fourteen years lamenting all of his failures, his only happiness coming from reliving his best moments in SCW by keeping them on constant replay on his big screen throughout the day, every day. However, the older he got, the harder it was to watch his younger self. As time went on, he couldn’t help but feel sad watching his past self. He had no idea that he was about to endure fourteen years of anguish. No idea that once he fell from the top, he’d never find himself back again.
The scariest part was, he’d eventually feel like he didn’t deserve to be on the top. Nothing is more deadly to the psyche than self-doubt. Even if you’re successful – as he at least somewhat was upon his 2011 return – the insecurity will find its way back to you. The fear of failure will make any joyful experience short lived, completely consuming any sense of satisfaction until all you’re left with is worry about what the next obstacle is.
Carrying that around for so long made it an even harder habit to break than it already is. It was obvious to anyone watching that he was in a state of distress and that any signs of hope seemed to be snuffed out as quickly as they appeared. It led to a constant feeling of doubt at every stop on the road to Rise to Greatness.
What am I doing? I don’t belong here. I should have never come back.
But he did. Despite all of his reservations, he made the decision to return to SCW and to compete on the biggest stage of all.
Now, after everyone else had left the ring, he found himself looking at a dejected Asher Hayes. Cid felt terrible for his new partner. After all of the build up, they couldn’t get the job done as a team. His return to SCW would forever have a black mark on it.
Despite all of that, he didn’t look down at Asher in disappointment. He could only feel pride. They worked together well as a team and Cid felt a rush of adrenaline that seemed to push him to new limits, proving that maybe there’s still something left in the tank. He may not have won the match, but Cid Turner’s decision to return was vindicated.
July 26, 2020 – Rise to Greatness
Cid walked through the curtain trailed by Asher, both leaving behind a slightly deflated crowd, fresh off of their big defeat.
“Shit, man,” Asher mumbled. Cid noticed his sudden lack of confidence. It was a side of Asher he hadn’t really had a chance to see before. “Well, that sucked dick, huh? I’m sorry, man.”
He gave Cid a reassuring slap on the back, hoping to perhaps receive a sign of forgiveness from his partner, but instead receiving a sudden wild swing. Asher ducked backwards as Cid yelped. “Don’t! Don’t— Don’t… fucking touch me!”
Asher looked on in confusion as Cid slouched his shoulder against the wall, clutching the back of his neck with his free arm. Something was wrong.
Before the match even started, Cid felt some familiar tingles coursing throughout his body. Once he got fully involved with the match, it got worse, and he was now leaning against the wall terrified now that he had no feeling in his arms, from his elbows down to his fingertips.
It was obvious to him that despite being medically cleared for the match, he wasn’t physically fit to compete. He couldn’t help but wonder, why would a man with spinal stenosis fight in a wrestling match? I’m such an idiot. I’m paralyzed. I’m fucking paralyzed.
“Dude, you okay?” asked Asher, his look of confusion making way for a look of concern.
“Shit…” Cid mumbled in response. He was so sick of showing weakness to everyone. “I’m fine. I just… don’t feel well.”
“I get it. It’s a tough loss. Hey, believe me, it pains me that I’m the one that took the fall courtesy of those bimbos, but try not to feel too bad. A/C Unit is still up in this bitch. You kicked ass, man. You proved that you still got it. All that talk about protecting your home and making things right, y’know? Okay, we didn’t finish the job, but we started it. You backed up that talk, loss or not.”
Cid looked back at Asher, shaking his head in confusion. “What?”
“What d’ya mean ‘what‘?” he asked in a somewhat mocking tone. “You said the shit, not me!”
“Did I?” He turned his head back towards the ground and scoffed. “I don’t remember that. I didn’t know what I was even saying leading up to all of this. I’m just… blabbing whatever sounds right. What comes out? Shit, I don’t know. Whatever I said, apparently.”
“What, you didn’t mean anything you’ve been saying?”
Cid sighed. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. I… yeah. I dunno.”
“You know why the people out there go so damn mental when you show up?” Asher asked. Cid was having trouble focusing on what his partner was saying. He was more worried about having to spend time finding the perfect wheelchair for when he’s a paraplegic. Did they have ones that could fly yet? He’d missed a lot of technological advances over the years. He managed to give Asher a light shrug in response. “Because you came back and you finally got that chip off your shoulder. No more trying to present yourself as someone you’re not, no more bitching and moaning, no more tantrums, no more bullshit. You’re just being you. People love you, being real. Weird, jittery, smelly, hairy you. They wanted more of you out there, they couldn’t get enough of The Big C!”
“It’s not me, though, it’s—… I just told you that I’m just saying whatever sounds right. I don’t know who the real me even is,” he confessed with a roll of his eyes. “Jesus. SCW’s a total mindfuck.”
Asher cocked his head a bit. He’d spent enough time with Cid to know that he had some serious personal problems, although he supposed that was public knowledge by this point. After dealing with his own issues regarding his confidence, Asher was trying his best to help Cid through his, but there was only so much he could do. It didn’t help that he was currently trying to wrestle with the fact that he also just lost a huge match. He pulled out a business card from his tights and stuck it out towards Cid. “I don’t think you’re just saying whatever sounds right. I think you’re trying. Here, take this.”
Cid shifted and took the card, now leaning his back against the wall while looking perplexed at the thick, creamy white business card. John Goldberg. Chicago, Illinois. “Who the hell is John Goldberg? Wait, where the hell did you get this card from? It’s all wet.”
“It was in my tights.”
“You carry a business card around in your tights? While you’re in a match?”
“Yeah. That’s the card of my therapist. I always keep it on me, just in case. Why? Is that weird?” Asher asked, genuinely wondering if this was out of the ordinary.
“Therapist?” Cid questioned, still inspecting the card. “In… Chicago? What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Give him a call, man.”
“Screw that,” Cid said with a flick of the card, sending it fluttering to the ground. Asher looked at the card on the ground with a look of distress as it hit the pavement with a slight plop. “My shit’s deeper than that.”
He was being intentionally vague. He was worried about his medical issues becoming public knowledge. He’d already seen what people in SCW did with that kind of information. Even the most honorable men seemed to turn into sharks, straight up out for blood. Realistically, it’d be out soon, assuming that it wasn’t already. Syren had already alluded to the fact that Cid’s return after a long absence could have something to do with his health. The medical team at SCW knew what he was dealing with, too. It was only a matter of time until everyone else did. Still, he’d try to keep it under wraps as long as he could. He looked up at Asher and continued. “I don’t need that kind of help. I know what I need. Just… leave me to deal with it, all right?”
Asher was still looking down at the card, seemingly perturbed. “Dude. That was the only one I had left. I was gonna ask for it back after you called him. Now it’s all dirty!”
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Cid said as he pushed himself off of the wall. The numbness in his arms had seemed to dissipate, much to his relief. He couldn’t help but wonder, though, if this was simply delaying the inevitable. He felt like he was destined to become a vegetable. He had to see his doctor immediately. “I’m… thankful for your help. It’s just— well, you’re offering something that I don’t really need. Still, though… I’m thankful. You know what? I don’t thank people enough. Never have. I’m just gonna say it. Thank you, Asher.”
Asher broke his gaze from the discarded business card and shook his head, finally getting a chance to express some of his disappointment. “Don’t thank me, dude. I failed us. I got pinned out there. I blew our first big chance as a team. I ruined your return, brother. I feel like a dope. A tall, handsome, well-hung dope.”
“No, man. Besides the tall and handsome part, that’s just not true. You’re—”
Asher quickly chimed in, “don’t forget the well-hung part, please.”
“Oh, right. Besides the tall, handsome, and well-hung part, it’s not true. You’re the reason I’m still here, Asher. Yeah, we lost. I’m disappointed… but we’re still here. I’m still in SCW, competing against the best talent in the world. Without you, who knows where I’m at? Probably still in jail for the elderly abuse of CHBK. A/C Unit saved my life. You’re my guiding light, Asher. So, I’ll say it again. Thank you. Thank you, Asher Hayes.”
Cid awkwardly rested a hand on Asher’s slick shoulder. Asher took a look at the hand on his shoulder with his eyebrows furrowed before slowly shifting his sights to Cid. He wasn’t sure how to respond to such grandiose statements. “You’re… welcome?”
“Yes. I am. All right, I’m gonna go,” Cid said as he peeled his hand off of Asher’s shoulder and started to walk off.
“Dude, show’s not over!”
“It is for me!” he hollered without stopping or looking back at his tag team partner. “We’re the true main event, friend! Get used to it!”
After Rise to Greatness
Back in this shithole, Cid thought as he looked around the same room he sat in several years prior when he was diagnosed with cervical spinal stenosis. He was back, laying in that same bed where his life was changed forever.
He was having trouble enjoying the fact that he didn’t totally make a fool of himself in the ring, even with the loss. Despite experiencing vindication, he couldn’t help but wonder if that was it. Cid Turner, one and done in 2020 at Rise to Greatness. It wouldn’t be the worst ending to his career. It would sting to go out on his back, but it could have been worse. He could have ended up being carried out of the ring on a stretcher. He didn’t have to experience that familiar feeling of being carted off in front of everyone as they looked on, feeling pity for the barely breathing vegetable. He was victorious, in that sense. Really, it was quite fitting. A passing of the torch moment. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if he should just hang up the boots. No more worrying about the risks of giving his all in the ring. No more potential humiliation. He could retire after giving back to SCW by making Dark Fantasy look even better than they already were.
Nah. Screw those bitches.
Either way, he might not have a choice. He was wrestling with a serious injury and it was looking like it would likely send him straight back to those Colorado mountains to rot away. Maybe his showing was a fluke, anyway, purely driven by adrenaline. It’s probably not normal for a crippled 40-year old to have sustained success in this business.
He found his thoughts bouncing around, however, much like they had been ever since he decided to clock CHBK in the face. What if? What if he still had more to offer to SCW? What if his final run ended up being better than anything he’d ever done before? What if he had Benjamin Button disease? He could be SCW’s Benjamin Button.
The door opened and the doctor known only as Dr. Ed stepped through.
“No!” Cid groaned as he threw his hands up into the air before slamming them down at his sides. “Please, anyone but you.”
He hadn’t aged since 2013, but that wasn’t saying much considering he already looked to be maxed out at that time.
“Old friend! Ohh, what a lovely beard you’ve grown!” he exclaimed in reply as he began to strut confidently towards his roller chair, clipboard in hand. He took a seat and started to roll towards Cid’s side. “How’ve ya been, kid? Love the new look.”
“God damn it. I only came here because I thought you’d be gone. How the hell are you still alive?”
“An apple a day!” he replied, responding to his own joke with a hearty laugh. “All right, I’ll lead off like any good doctor does. How’s your dick? Still workin’ well?”
Cid smacked his hand up against his forehead and held it there, physically cringing as the doctor arrived at his side. “Can you stop asking me that every time I see you? For Christ’s sake. God damn it, dude. I shouldn’t be here. I’m making money now, I can go wherever I want. Yet here I am, sitting in front of Dr. Ed. Great. Being a hermit for seven years made me stupid, didn’t it?”
“Ohh, you were a hermit, were you? I guess that explains the new look.”
“Yep. I was a shut-in. Seven long years. Now I’m back, kickin’ ass. For some reason, I still decide to come here for my medical attention. I’m a complete moron.”
“Well, why’d you come then?”
Cid finally took his hand off his forehead and sighed. “I don’t know. Convenience? I mean, I guess I trust you guys. I can’t trust the SCW doctors, man. That entire place is just—… I don’t know. They got mannequins gettin’ tossed outta windows, dancing bears, multiple people calling themselves executioners… so many of them look like anorexic supermodels with serious mental issues, and – honestly – I think some of them are on psychedelic drugs. A few of them were just in the middle of a child custody case. Imagine that. This lot, fighting over a child. That child’s already done for. It’s screwed. This is the shit I deal with, doc. How the hell am I supposed to trust SCW doctors? It’s an asylum.”
The doctor looked at his clipboard as Cid spoke. “SCW?” he asked without looking up.
“Oh, that’s what you question out of all that? That’s good. I can tell you truly care about my health and wellbeing,” he said with an eye roll. The good doctor just continued to stare at the clipboard. “Right. Well, SCW is the company I’m wrestling for.”
He finally looked up from his clipboard, an inquisitive look on his face. “Wrestling? I seem to recall suggesting you cut that out of your life during our last meeting.”
“Yeah, well, I seem to recall that you’re a doctor, not a life coach.”
“You got me there,” Dr. Ed sarcastically confessed with a slight nod. “I’m definitely not a life coach. Just a doctor. A doctor with some… terrible news to share with you.”
Suddenly, Cid was in a panic. “Oh, no. Please, don’t tell me I’m paralyzed. Look, I’m sorry I called you old and useless! Just… please, don’t tell me that I’m paralyzed!”
“Don’t think you ever called me useless.”
“Oh. Well, I thought it. I thought it a lot.”
“Look, kid… the terrible news is… you have cervical spinal stenosis,” the old man said as a smirk slowly spread across his face.
Cid just stared at him blankly, something that he’d done countless times over their brief interactions. He often found himself at a loss for words, which isn’t something anyone ever said about Cid Turner. “I hate you. I really do,” he said in a hushed tone, only to be met with uproarious laughter from the doctor. Cid could only look on in bewilderment. “Listen, can you just tell me what the deal is? Is it worse? I told the nurse, my fucking arms keep going numb. It’s God damn unnerving. I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t trust those phony doctors in SCW. What’s going on with me?”
“Well, actually, your scans were extremely encouraging. Now, look, there’s no cure for spinal stenosis, but your body has seemed to recover quite nicely. Really, it’s… miraculous. What’s your secret?”
Cid looked at the doctor, filled with trepidation. He wasn’t sure if Dr. Ed would understand the circumstances that led to Cid’s recovery. He cleared his throat before beginning. “Well… you know. Ate plenty of vegetables. I, uh… well, I tried a lot of those Eastern medicine methods you suggested. Home sauna adventures. Plenty of weird smelling ointments. Lighting of the incense. You know… Nag Champa… dragon’s blood… all that. It worked out quite well, apparently,” he said with a shrug. Oh, there was also one of my carers force feeding me fetuses that he bought off the black market. They somehow gave me special healing powers. Well, you know. Shit happens, I guess, he thought, shrugging once again.
“Well, it all worked. Kid, you’re in great shape. Better than ever? Well, I dunno… but you’re lookin’ good. I wouldn’t fully say you’re out of the woods with this yet, but I’m pleased to see this amazing progress.”
Cid looked towards the end of the bed at his feet. There was an obvious sense of comfort. It was another confirmation that he’d made a great recovery, this time from an entirely different source. He wasn’t paralyzed… yet. He could continue to compete in SCW and hoped to do it for as long as he physically could, hopefully leaving behind an even greater legacy than he thought possible. He got the second (or third, or fourth) chance he always wanted and could continue his redemption tour.
So, why did he feel so dreadful? Random bouts of terror with no warning signs. Constantly on edge. Body seemingly in deep distress. If nothing was wrong, then why did he feel like he was in such a fragile state?
“Good news, yeah?” Dr. Ed asked with a smile.
“Wait,” Cid started, shifting his focus from his feet to his hands. “I don’t get it. I couldn’t feel my arms out there. It wasn’t just when I was wrestling, either. It’s almost constant. I feel… wound up. My body feels so tight, like it’s ready to burst,” he explained, now looking at his doctor. “It’s gotta be something else. I’ll do any scan you guys need, just… please, figure out what the hell’s wrong with me.”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” he replied, tossing his clipboard on a nearby benchtop. “You’ve got a pretty bad case of anxiety. Probably suffering from depression as well. They often go hand in hand, depression and anxiety.”
Cid once again found himself staring at the elder in a vacant manner. “What the fuck is anxiety?”
“It’s all up here, kid,” he said as he gave the side of his head a tap.
“Oh, shit. My brain? I have a tumor?! Oh, God. No!”
Cid held his head in a state of panic until Dr. Ed gave him a big pat on the leg. “No, no. Physically, you’re fine… mostly. You need to keep an eye on this stenosis. It’s quite serious. Otherwise, though… it’s all mental.”
“Mental?” Cid asked frustratedly. He shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. I’m not crazy.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I know I’m not. I’m feeling these things. I was wrestling out there and I couldn’t feel my arms. I didn’t imagine that, okay?”
“Oh, no, you definitely didn’t. You were feeling those things, for sure. It just manifested from your anxiety. You’re familiar with fight or flight, I take it?”
“Jesus Christ, man,” said Cid, his thoughts racing. He couldn’t grasp what he was being told, no matter how it was being dressed up. “We’re going in circles. Can you just speak English to me? What is wrong with me?”
Dr. Ed sighed. “How do I put this?” he wondered aloud. He was dealing with an overgrown child. It was a fair question. “Ah!” he said, proudly sticking a finger up in the air. “Think of it this way. When you wrestle, I imagine you lose sometimes?”
“No, never.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, I’ve never lost,” Cid confirmed. “Sorry.”
“Okay, well… imagine you did.”
“I mean, I can try. It’s hard to even imagine though, since I’ve never lost,” he lied… again. “I’ll try though.”
“Right, so, in this hypothetical situation in which you’ve managed to somehow lose, how would you feel?”
Cid took a moment to think. He always did have a problem with losing. In fact, this last one seemed to be the best he had ever handled any loss. He recalled his last loss before his return to SCW, seven years ago. Although unofficial, his student/carer/friend Clyde Warner did in fact pin him for a three count with the deadly ‘Balls Deep’, Clyde’s perfected version of a small package. His celebration was cut off prematurely as Cid nearly murdered him with a steel chair. “Hmm… well, I guess I’d be a little upset.”
“Right. You’d get worked up. Your mind would start to race. Heart? Pounding. Your blood, boiling!”
All feelings Cid found himself especially familiar with. “Yeah, maybe,” he reluctantly agreed. “I mean, if I did lose at some point, ever. I could see that.”
“You’re actually fine, though. You’re just experiencing emotional reactions that manifest themselves physically.” Cid brought his hand up to his face, giving his chin a thoughtful stroke with a finger and a thumb as the doctor continued. “Listen, what you went through was quite traumatic. I remember it vividly. You came in and you were certain you were going to die. Even as you left, you wondered if you weren’t long for this world. You said you became a hermit, correct?”
Cid gave him a nod. “Yeah.”
“That probably didn’t help anything,” the doctor said with a scoff. “Mr. Turner, your brain has been wracked with turmoil for what sounds like a long time. I’m saying this as someone who’s only been part of your life for a matter of hours. I can only imagine what else you’re going through outside of this room. It sounds like you’ve also jumped straight into the deep end with this wrestling stuff. This may be hard to hear, but you put yourself in this position by not taking care of yourself and now you’re dealing with the consequences. You’re going through a very emotional time and your brain is trying its best to cope with it all. You understand? This is why you’re feeling these things.”
Cid shook his head. “That sounds stupid. It doesn’t make sense.”
“The human brain is kinda freaky, ain’t it?”
“What the hell do I do? More Eastern medicine?”
“Couldn’t hurt. Just try and take it easy. Sometimes it helps to simply breathe.”
“Breathe?” Cid asked, wondering if Dr. Ed was even a real doctor. What a prescription. Breathe!
“Yeah, but I mean really breathe. Take a few moments to yourself. Read a book. Go outside. Ride a bike. Hug a tree. Enjoy mother nature. Take it all in.”
“So, you want me to go outside and do basic activities?” he asked. The friendly doctor bobbed his head. “Wow. Modern medicine really is incredible.”
“Something also worth remembering is that happy thoughts create happy people.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Cid said with a hand wave. The doctor laughed. Cid felt if he got out of the bed, lifted his gown, and took a shit on his desk, the doctor would just respond with even more laughter. The man was unbreakable. Normally, someone like that would make him frustrated, but he couldn’t help but feel comforted by the man’s enthusiastic presence during these trying times.
He couldn’t help but think of Asher. He was right. He needed a therapist. Not that he would actually follow that advice, but that didn’t change the fact that Asher was right. He thought even further back to his ex-wife Elizabeth telling him to grow up the last time he ever spoke with her seven years ago. She wasn’t the only one to suggest that to him over the course of his adult life. They were all right about him. They warned him that he was going down a bad path. Cid was finally getting what he deserved for his behavior over the course of his career.
“So, that’s it?” Cid asked with a confused shrug of his shoulders. “Breathe and be happy? Sounds easy enough, I guess.”
“It is easy… in a way. You have to keep at it, though. It’s gonna take awhile to get over all of this. You really have to start taking care of yourself, all right? Try not to stress yourself out too much. Look, I’ll give you a couple numbers that you can call. You need to talk to someone about this,” he said, looking towards Cid – eyebrows raised – with the expectation that he would take the doctor’s suggestions seriously. If he had handed Cid a card, it’d probably end up in the same position as the one Asher gave him. “Maybe cut down on the wrestling and take part in some hobbies that are a bit more positive in nature.”
“Oh, sure thing,” he replied in a sarcastic tone which was likely lost on the doctor. “I’ll take up knitting.”
“Not a bad idea! I have another reason why you should feel great.”
This oughta be good, Cid thought. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“You’re alive and healthy. What more can you ask for?”
He could ask to not feel the supreme weight of his mental anguish crushing him every day to the point where he could physically feel it. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Tell me something good,” Dr. Ed suggested somewhat randomly.
“What?”
“Tell me something that’s making you feel good right now. Put that positive energy out into the world, right now.”
“This is stupid, man,” Cid sneered.
“Just do it, would ya?” the doctor asked, showing at least a slight bit of frustration for the first time. Cid gave a couple of slight nods.
His entire life revolved around SCW ever since he signed with the company in 2003. No matter what he did throughout the years – in or out of SCW – the company was always on his mind in some way.
It could hit him while he was in line at the grocery store back when he actually used to go out in public. Reflecting back on some fond memories while hearing the soothing beeping of the items being scanned. Spending time with his good friends, Chad Evans, Sid Kipling, Matt Hodges, James Exeter. He even had some warm memories of people he no longer cared for. He’d always remember attending the wedding between Jay and Martha Gold, for better or for worse.
The worst thoughts seemed to come as he tried to sleep. Trying to count sheep usually led to counting all of the sins he committed over the years. Turning on those old friends, like Chad Evans and Sid Kipling. Abandoning those that actually tried to make it work with him, like Matt Hodges, James Exeter, and Jay Gold. Turning his back on everyone he knew in hopes of making an impact and climbing the ladder until all the people that were actually more worthy of him laid at the bottom with knives in their backs. Nowadays, he found himself wondering if Asher Hayes was doomed to be next on the list of betrayals.
No matter what he was doing, all of these thoughts could hit him at any time. SCW was an obsession more than it was a passion. The way he treated it was what probably led him to where he was now, but he was trying to turn it around. Instead of slithering his way back to the top, he wanted to walk tall and stand proud at the peak of SCW, knowing that he did everything he could to make his home a better place. This was his goal.
“Well… I did do something good recently. Ah, but…” Cid groaned. He was talking to a dinosaur. “You wouldn’t understand, I guess.”
“Doesn’t matter. Act like I’m someone who would understand and just spit it out.”
“I guess you’re really the only person I can talk to about this without feeling embarrassed, actually,” he said with a shrug. “I tend to keep to myself these days…”
“Go on.”
“I, uh…” he started with a mumble. He looked down at his chest and started thinking about everything since his return to SCW that led to this point. He stood up to someone he felt was doing wrong and he helped someone who was trying to do the right thing. He had the bruises to show for it. In the end, he stood tall and proud, even in defeat. It was probably the first time he could say that he did that under these circumstances. “I dunno. I made a friend, I guess. I’m back doing what I love. What I do means everything to me… and I stood up to some people that I felt were doing wrong by me, my friend, and the business,” he said with a small sigh. He couldn’t help but feel like a hypocrite, but his newly growing pride at what he was able to accomplish was beginning to outweigh the forever present feelings of old shame. “I just feel proud of myself. For the first time in a… really long time, I feel proud of myself,” he quietly expressed in what sounded almost like a confession.
He started to feel choked up. Normally, the incessant sensation that had stuck to him for so long that made him feel on the verge of tears at the drop of a hat just pissed him off. Today, though, was different. He didn’t feel overwhelmed with negative emotions to the point of a breakdown. He came back and even though he fell short of his goal, he still felt a sense of accomplishment. All the while, he had an immense support from the SCW faithful that he’d never experienced before. He was touched. Emotions – real, positive emotions – that had been lying dormant for most of his life were finally presenting themselves.
“I mean, I guess I lost… but I kinda feel like I won, somehow. That’s not downplaying my failures, either. I’m crushed. I really am, but I’m learning to deal with that. It’s just that, like… being here feels like I’ve won. It’s a feeling I’ve never experienced before, under these specific circumstances, what with the loss and the cheering of the crowd and all of that. I’m kind of having trouble processing it, but I mean… yeah. I’m proud… and, like… I’m home, man.” he said, his voice wavering. He took a deep breath and exhaled as he looked up at the watchful doctor, tears beginning to fill his eyes. He took a moment, briefly reliving the experience at Rise to Greatness, warts and all. “I’m home.”
The floodgates opened and Cid began to softly sob. He was right, the doctor had no idea what Cid was talking about. That wasn’t the point, though. Dr. Ed reached out once again and gave Cid a couple of friendly pats on his shin as Cid concealed his face into his own hands, still crying.
“You are, kid,” the doctor spoke up with a nod. “You’re home.” The doctor was beaming at the thought of one of his patients not only improving physically, but mentally as well. There was, however, an unanswered question still lingering. He removed the smile from his face and took his hand off of Cid’s shin, reverting back to a more professional demeanor. “Now, back to basics, since we kind of skipped over that. How is your dick? Still gettin’ hard-ons?”
The doctor looked on, waiting for an answer, as Cid continued to gently weep.
Present Day
Cid put on a jacket over his sweater, which was already hiding a t-shirt underneath. He stared straight into the camera, concerned that it really does add ten pounds. “Dude. I need to wear layers so nobody realizes what’s happened.”
“How do you gain over twenty pounds just over the break?” asked Cid’s carer Clyde Warner as he put the finishing touches on the lighting in Cid’s personal studio.
“I don’t know, man. At first, I couldn’t eat due to my extreme depression courtesy of Dark Fantasy… but then, suddenly, I couldn’t stop eating due to said extreme depression. It didn’t help that I was scolded for leaving the show early. It’s not my fault I’m used to headlining. The mind and body take a bit to adjust to a new schedule, you know? Anyway, my only hope is that I circle back around to not being able to eat to get back into competing shape,” he sighed. “Look, maybe no one will notice. Some of this might be muscle, you know.”
“No, no. They’ll definitely notice,” Clyde said in an unusually reassuring tone for some reason. “You’re not going to the ring in layers. They’ll notice.”
Cid let out an even deeper sigh. “Shit. Asher’s gonna judge me so hard. The man’s beautiful. I’m the DUFF of A/C Unit. I never thought the day would come where I’d be the DUFF.”
“I do have good news, though,” Clyde replied as he set up behind the camera. “Now that you have to talk about your match on Breakdown, you won’t have time to stuff your face. If you talk hard enough, you might even burn some calories. Let’s do this!”
“Rise to Greatness has come and gone, and just like every year since its beginning, stars were made and legacies were cemented. On one end, you have someone that’s new to me in Jordan Majors, who became someone to keep an eye on with a star making performance even in defeat. On the other end, you have David Helms, who further defined his Hall of Fame legacy by winning in the main event of Rise to Greatness, one of the biggest accomplishments anyone could have in SCW. While David isn’t new to me, I wouldn’t say that I’m totally familiar with him as a person. As a performer, however, I feel like I know him better than anyone else.
Coming back after already doing enough to be remembered for eternity. Why? Why bother? Because this business keeps a hold on you. At no point in time has anyone left this business and not had the itch to come back. We find a reason to come back, whether it actually makes sense or not. You think CHBK is kicking my head in and laying in haymakers for fun, or to protect his mentees, or to stand up for the ‘brand’ of Infamous? God, no. He’s living vicariously through Infamous. These fleeting moments where he actually dares to get physical are now the highlights of his life. He loathes just standing outside of the ring, not being able to do anything. Because that’s what this business does to you. No one’s happy once they’re retired, it’s why no one ever really, truly stays gone, unless they have no choice.
So, yeah, I know David Helms. His success is an inspiration to people in our position. I guess I’m as happy as you can be for someone that you’ve never actually spoken to… but where does that leave me on this spectrum between people like Majors and Helms? I’m not a rising star. I’m not a successful veteran. So, what am I? I guess I’m… undefined. The nature of the sport is that at the end of the day, someone’s gonna eat their words. In this case, A/C Unit had to eat their words. I promised to show the world that I still have worth as a performer— as a person. I promised to knock Infamous down a peg or two while establishing both myself and Asher as major players in SCW. I vowed to dethrone the best team ever and vault ourselves to the very top in our first official match.
Well, we see how it turned out. Not to say that everything I said ended up being worthless. The fact, though, is that Dark Fantasy are everything people say they are, for better or for worse. Terrible, artificial, conniving human beings. Incredible wrestlers. The best tag team in the world, after all these years. It feels odd to say it after everything, but sharing the ring with them almost felt like an honor. As for Asher and I, we’re not the best. That was proven at Rise to Greatness. I think we put in a better showing than anyone expected, sure, but we fell short, showing that we have a lot to learn as a team.
Which brings me to Breakdown. After Rise to Greatness, I’m still an unknown. I proved that I belong in the ring, but I fell short of accomplishing my goal by proving I’m worthy of facing legends like Syren and Ravyn. At 40 years old, the wheels don’t always spin as smoothly as they did before. So, has time passed me by? Was facing Dark Fantasy my last hurrah against the top of the top tier? I don’t think so. Breakdown is all about proving that Cid Turner and A/C Unit are here to stay and to change the look of SCW’s elite.
While we’re on the topic about knowing people while not really knowing them, we should talk about The Wonderland, A/C Unit’s current opposition. See, I feel like I understand Giovanni and these guys. They’re out here trying to spread their message and make a name for themselves! How could we – wrestlers in SCW – not relate to that?! We’ve all been there. Attacking our elderly boss. Throwing mannequins out of windows to make a statement. Bashing picture frames over the heads of innocent women. Of course, I hate lizards. They’re creepy little bastards. What else is there? Oh, potentially drugging our opponents to break their mind and spirit…”
Cid drifted off a bit and looked slightly down and to the side with his eyes wide open and his nostrils flared, looking noticeably disturbed. After a few moments, he snapped out of it and returned his focus to the camera.
“Okay, now that I’m actually laying this all out, I’m starting to realize that maybe I don’t have a lot in common with these guys. The point remains that they’re out here trying to make a name for themselves. They’re spreading their message, whatever the hell it really is. They’re fighting for what they believe in, man. So, in that way, we’re similar, I guess. Another way we’re similar is that we both fell short of what we were trying to accomplish, but that seems par for the course for The Wonderland at this point, doesn’t it?
Not to say I know their history. I’ve been gone for almost ten years, of course I don’t know their history. What I do know is their recent history. Giovanni Aries fell short at Taking Hold of the Flame, which of course has always been a crapshoot, so you can’t really blame him for that. But then, all of this stuff with the boss and this so-called ‘Perfect Pack’ really kicked off, and eventually both Cain and Alice found themselves put against the Pack… and what did they do as an ‘emphatic statement’? Well, Cain laid down and ate the pin, putting up absolutely no resistance whatsoever. I mean, I guess there’s something to be said about ‘mind games’, but… what a declaration! After that, well… we all know how that story ended. The Wonderland found themselves getting tossed around and by the end of the night, all three members were staring up at the lights, their cause gone up in weird, colorful smoke.
So, I have to imagine they’ll come out swinging on Breakdown, which I’m actually thankful for. Something I noticed about myself at Rise to Greatness was that I needed a kick in the ass. I needed to get in that ring with Dark Fantasy. I needed to face the absolute best on the biggest stage possible. Under those bright lights and that immense amount of pressure, I found a part of myself that I wasn’t sure existed anymore. The expectations, the atmosphere, that raucous crowd… it all fueled me. So, I don’t wanna stop there. Give me something to actually fight for here. No more ‘showcases’. I want to prove that even in defeat, I’m worth something to this company in 2020.
Now, groups like The Wonderland talk a lot, no matter what happens. A lot of empty babbling. It’s just what weirdos like that do. Despite being on the wrong end of a clean sweep, they’re gonna go out there on Wednesday and they’re going to find something else wrong with someone else now that Cruze has embarrassed ‘em. They’ll think of something, surely. It’s what people like that do. I’m here to help, though. You don’t have to meet up at whatever weird abandoned crack dens you have your team meetings in. You can skip the happy-time brainstorming. I’m offering you two something that would look great to your leader… or your ‘brother’, if you prefer. I know hippies don’t like hierarchy. You can beat a rising star in Asher Hayes and an SCW Hall of Famer in Cid Turner and cut the legs out from underneath A/C Unit before it even has a chance to recover from its unfortunate start.
We’re someone that you can make a real statement against. This isn’t about trading barbs and spouting out bullshit. It’s about fighting in that ring, where everything is settled in the end. We don’t need months of empty build up for this, because this is what it would all lead to anyway, because that’s what this place is about. Sure, it’s entertainment, but we finish things in that very ring. So, we’re saving a lot of time here. A/C Unit is handing you an opportunity to make a name for yourselves and to start the new season off right. I’m expecting the absolute best out of you both, Cain and Alice. Hell, hopefully Giovanni himself comes to ringside to watch the show to give you just that extra bit of motivation you need.
With that being said, I’ve made it clear… I’m letting you know all of this for myself and for the A/C Unit. Because, again, I know now that I want to test myself. I’ve spent my whole life taking shortcuts. Dark Fantasy proved to me that I want more than a shortcut, even if it means suffering the agony of defeat along with it, because it’ll only make our ascension mean that much more to me. I’m done sneaking around. I’m facing my problems – in and out of that ring – head on, and that continues on Breakdown.
This match is huge for me, for us. It’s huge for The Wonderland, too. We’re two teams with something to prove. It’s two completely different tales of redemption. I’m going out there to prove that I’m so much more than what I was before, and while The Wonderland will be aiming to spread that same message as part of their newest cause, I’m gonna prove to them that this recent failure is just part of a greater trend, and their new movement will end just like the last one… completely up in smoke.”
THE RISE OF THE FALLEN KING 