With the sound of a thick, stifled thud and the cracking of glass, Cid Turner’s eyes shot open. He could only see the shadow of whatever creature he just struck, prancing away, up and over the windshield. Instinctively, he slammed the brakes, coming to a screeching halt. Trying to catch his breath gave him a good whiff of burning rubber in the process. Taking a look around the car, he saw that he had passengers. In the passenger’s side, Syren sat with her arms folded, looking unimpressed. Matt Hodges and James Exeter filled the backseat, looking completely unfazed at the violent bludgeoning of whatever they had just hit. A viscous liquid began to ooze through the cracks of the fractured windshield as Cid leaned forward to inspect it further.
“What the hell was that?!” he wondered aloud.
“You probably hit a deer, genius,” guessed Hodges. “Nice going.”
“I think—… I think I dozed off for a second,” Cid mumbled in response, unsure of what actually happened. Backing away from the windshield, he turned to look at everyone. “Wait a minute, why the hell was I driving? I’m a terrible driver.”
Hodges scoffed. “You’re the king of the castle, are you not?”
“Aww,” Syren cooed mockingly, pouting her lips at him to further add to the feigned sympathy. “Momma should’ve driven, huh?”
Exeter took his seatbelt off and turned around, looking out the back window in hopes of seeing the victim of the slaughter. “It’s pitch black!” he cried as he looked into the darkness.
“Shit,” Cid muttered before clearing his throat, realizing he needed to take control for the sake of the family. “I’ll go take a look.”
He popped the door open and climbed out of the car, leaving the door open behind him. As he rounded the car, Syren stepped out of the opposite side, taking her place next to Cid. They both walked further into the darkness, still barely being able to make out what was in front of them. The closer they got, the clearer the darkened lump on the pavement became.
Cid continued to trek forward, whispering with reservation, “a lion?”
“A lion,” confirmed Syren, as if that was a completely normal thing to run over with your car in the middle of the night.
As they approached the creature, they could hear its labored breaths. It seemed to still be living, only just clinging to life. Cid kneeled down to it, needing to take a closer look.
It was indeed a lion. What was once a majestic beast was laid out in front of Cid, completely beaten and disgraced. It went from roaming the badlands to being struck by a vehicle by someone who was asleep at the wheel. It probably deserved better, but this is what it got.
Tired of waiting, Hodges and Exeter both stepped out from the backseat. Cid turned back to see them approaching him and Syren. “Hey,” he snapped, “you kids! Stay in the car!”
They both continued forward, paying no mind to the warning. “Please,” Hodges begged, “stop calling us kids. We’re grown men.”
“Hey,” Exeter protested, “don’t talk to dad that way!” Then, he saw the lion, lying limp on the side of the road. “Oh, my God. Is that a lion?!”
“It’s okay, James,” Cid said, turning back to the dying lion. “He’s right. You kids are all grown up. You’ve grown so much… maybe into even better men than your father.”
“Well, you’re not our real father,” said Hodges bluntly. “Speaking of family, does your wife know the company you’re keeping lately?” he asked, nodding in the direction of Syren. She rolled her eyes before looking back down at Cid, focusing more on his reactions to the situation rather than the declining animal beside him. “You should probably let her know.”
Cid drew a heavy sigh. “This situation is completely fine and normal. Elizabeth does not need to know about it, trust me,” he replied, trying his best to make sure that the immense shame he suddenly felt wasn’t leaking through his words.
Hodges let out the driest of laughs. “You mean Elizaveta.”
Cid looked back at Hodges, who now had a smirk across his face. “Matt, would you please just give me a break?” He looked back down at the lion as Hodges suppressed his laughter in the background. “Damn it. What’re we gonna do with you, little buddy?”
“Kill it,” Syren suggested rather plainly. “Put it out of its misery.”
Cid looked up at her, and for a moment, he – for some reason – expected her to crack a smile. Of course, he knew her better than that, by this point. She stared back at him coldly.
Hodges threw his head back and laughed. He stopped himself just short of hysterics, maybe in an attempt to not come off as a total psychopath. “This is just great,” he remarked sarcastically. “A damn lion somehow finds its way onto the freeway and you smack it with a car. And now? Well, now, you have to brain the thing. That’s excellent. You might single-handedly be responsible for moving lions from vulnerable to endangered, Cid.”
“No!” cried Exeter, stepping forward slightly, but not enough to see the carnage. He didn’t want to see the animal in pain. “Don’t kill Simba!”
“Jesus, James,” Cid exclaimed as he turned back. “Can you not give it a name right now?”
Syren knelt down next to Cid, getting close enough to whisper in his ear. “You know it’s the right thing to do,” she said as she pulled out a dagger from the side of her boot. She took Cid’s hand and placed the dagger in his palm. Reluctantly, he gripped it. “Look at how empty it’s grown now. It’s no longer the king of the jungle. It’s nothing more than roadkill. It no longer has any purpose.”
“Whoa,” Exeter gasped upon the reveal of the blade. “What a badass chick, carrying knives around.” He shook his head. “But wait, seriously! We can bring it with us, take it into town! Save its life!”
“I don’t think it’ll fit in the car,” Cid guessed as he looked over at the vehicle. “Man, the screen’s cracked too.” He looked at Syren, whose eyes showed a great determination to terminate this lion. “What do I even do with this?” he asked, twirling the dagger in his hand. “Stab it in the head?”
“Christ, no,” Hodges interjected harshly. “The heart, Cid. That’s more honorable.”
“It’ll fit in the car,” insisted Exeter. “In the backseat! Look, I’ll sit in the trunk!”
Hodges furrowed his brow. “Oh, so I get a dying fucking lion in my lap?!”
“You can fit in the trunk with me!”
Hodges exhaled sharply and stepped forward, taking a look at the fallen animal. He shrugged. “I guess he has a point.” He paused. “Screw it, he’s right. We shouldn’t snuff out something so regal. It would be a shame to lose such a royal being,” he said. He looked down at Cid, who was now back to focusing on the lion. “Wouldn’t it, Cid?”
Cid looked to Syren, who softly shook her head, silently saying ‘no’. He looked back down at the lion. “Ahh, shit. I don’t know.”
“We’re just trying to help you, man,” said Hodges. “Don’t know what she’s doing, but shouldn’t you think for yourself a bit here?”
“Don’t listen to them,” Syren hissed quietly into Cid’s ear. She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, slowly making her way around to the front. Gripping Cid, she sunk her nails into his neck, just enough to slightly break the skin. Cid felt a burst of exhilaration accompany the stinging pain. “Do you want to be this tiny, tiny man forever? Prove your worth to me. Show me how much I mean to you, you pathetic man.”
Exeter looked on, noticeably weirded out by Syren. “Yeesh,” he whispered to himself.
Cid reached forward and ran his hand through the lion’s mane, which reminded him of his own mane of hair. It was an unfortunate time to relate to the poor thing. As he caressed the lion’s thick fur, he thought of everything that it could have gone through. He could have commanded the great plains for years, striking down any who opposed his rule. He may have been a great father, son, and friend. This could be a real life Lion King. What could have dragged him from his loved ones that led him to this exact moment? Bleak as it was to Cid, he would never know the real reasoning. Maybe it was better that he didn’t know. Regardless, it was not a fitting end for something of such magnificence. On the verge of being gutted on the side of the road. Like he was nothing.
Cid looked back at Syren. “The blood really does look black in the moonlight, doesn’t it? Kinda pretty in a weird way, huh?”
“Do it,” Syren demanded once again, claws still dug into his neck.
Cid sighed and gently pushed the dagger forward, driving it into the heart of the lion. It was strangely easy, penetrating through the skin with minimal effort. He expected a great and final roar to mark the end of this creature’s life, but was surprised to hear nothing but a soft whimper coming from the lion’s mouth. Cid pulled the dagger out, letting the blood spill. He didn’t even have a final shot of adrenaline upon being pierced. No fighting back, still no mighty cries. He just sat there, waiting to die.
“Excellent,” said Syren as she released her grip on Cid and patted him on the head twice, like he was nothing more than a dog. “Good boy.”
Hodges looked down at the pool of blood forming from the lion’s wound. “Well, that was fuckin’ grim,” he said. He looked back down at Cid. “I just lost all respect for you, man. James was right, we could have put that big bitch in the backseat. Look at you, shaking, holding a bloody knife. You used to be so much more than this.”
Exeter couldn’t help but also look at the mess Cid had made. He sighed softly. “Poor Simba…”
“God, Cid,” Hodges continued. “Chad was right. What the hell are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.”
Whether it be from being scolded by his child, being reminded of his disappointed father, or just the fact that he was not even a minute removed from murdering an animal, Cid felt tears welling up in his eyes. Getting choked up, he just barely managed to blurt out, “please, stop talking about your grandfather.” He dropped the dagger, letting it fall into the pool of blood. He suddenly felt empty inside. It may have been an act of mercy, but it had apparently taken something out of him. Trying his best not to cry in front of everyone, he closed his eyes and sniffled. “I don’t feel so good,” he said as he grasped his chest. To his surprise, he was damp. After opening his eyes back up, he looked down to see another pool of dark blood forming, this time in the middle of his shirt. He pulled up his shirt and frantically wiped away the blood, revealing a small gash in his chest.
Blood continued to pour out of his wound, spilling off his stomach and onto the concrete, mixing in with the blood of the great lion. The world seemed to spin around him as he collapsed to his side, smacking his head against the pavement. After recovering from a brief bout of discombobulation, he looked in front of him to see the face of the dying lion.
It was a frightening sight, seeing such a monster up close, but as the lion continued to slowly fade away through rattled breaths, the feeling of fear made way for something much more pure. There was a tranquility in death for something that spent its entire life fighting. It was comforting to know that the hard life it had lived was going to be over soon. Maybe the manner in which it died didn’t really matter much, after all.
As Cid watched the life drain from the eyes of the lion, he found himself unknowingly mimicking its breathing. The lion’s eyelids started to gently close. Taking a moment to consider, Cid thought that maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Cid slowly closed his eyes, fully immersing himself into the shared breathing between him and the lion. After a short while, only his shallow breaths remained, just before there was total silence.
January 4, 2021
Cid woke up from his dream with a sharp gasp. Instinctively, he grabbed at his chest, but was thankful to not find pooling blood upon impact. Unfortunately, it still felt like fire was trying to burst out of his chest.
“You all right?” asked Asher Hayes from the driver’s seat. Cid looked at Asher, bundled up in his winter clothing, much like Cid himself was. They drove down a stretch of highway in Colorado, snow pelting hard against the windshield. “Y’know, part of being ‘road husband and wife’ is that we keep each other awake for trips like this.”
Cid cleared his throat repeatedly as he tried to bring his heart rate back down to a normal level. “Right,” he quickly blurted out before he took a deep breath. What the hell was that dream?
“Right,” Asher repeated with a sigh. “Christ, am I that boring? I could be more sordid.”
Cid exhaled, managing to push out a reply in the same breath. “Please, don’t.”
“Honestly, I have so many stories about Rachel,” Asher teased roguishly, referring to his ex, Rachel Foxx. Having faced Rachel in his first match back in SCW after a long break way back in 2011, Cid felt strangely connected to Asher through Rachel. Sharing the ring with someone was similar enough to sharing a bed with them, he supposed. They were Eskimo brothers, kind of. “I mean, it hurts to tell those stories.” Cid took another breath while tightly gripping the sides of his seat, feeling like he might just get through this without an attack. “You know, reliving those dark times.” Another exhale. “But, hey, I’m a wrestler. I put myself through pain to entertain others, whether it be physical or mental.” Again, a shaky breath, inwards. “Whatever keeps you the fuck awake while we drive to your parents on these icy, snowy roads. You know that you were the one begging me to come, right? We have a little disagreement backstage, barely hang out for weeks, but you suddenly – and desperately – need me to accompany you to your parents to make you feel more comfortable.”
At the mention of snow, Cid tried to focus on the falling snow on the windshield. Little snowflakes, gently falling down on the screen. Peaceful enough. After a few moments, Cid realized he was still holding his breath. He let it go, hoping that the anxious moment had passed. Just then, at the mere thought of it, he felt a tingle in his arms and in his legs, seemingly going up, down, and everywhere else to lead back to his chest. Nope, he thought while his heart rate shot up again. Fuck this.
Cid shot his arm out and gripped onto Asher’s leg, tapping his fingers wildly on his friend’s knee. He wasn’t sure why he went grabbing something in an attempt to feel safe, but he did. “Hey, hey,” Asher yelped, “too friendly!”
“Stop the car,” mumbled Cid.
Asher looked at his tag partner, who now seemed noticeably wired. “You okay?”
“Stop it, stop the car. God, please,” he begged softly, trying as hard as he could to not scream. His mission failed as his Russian mail-order bride Elizaveta put a comforting hand on his shoulder from the backseat, just scaring him even more since he had forgotten she was even in the car. He jumped in his seat and looked back. “JESUS CHRIST! WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS SO QUIET?! MAKING EVERYONE THINK YOU’RE NOT HERE! FUCK!”
Asher pulled over as safely as he could while Cid continued to breathe heavily. After coming to a stop, Cid finally let go of Asher’s leg and ripped wildly at the door handle until it opened. Asher looked on. He wasn’t terribly concerned as he had already been witness to this behavior several times over at this point, but he figured that he should still show some interest. “What’s goin’ on, man?”
Cid stepped out of the car and into the cold. “Gimme a minute,” he barked, closing the door behind him before trekking through the snow.
Asher shook his head. He looked back at Elizaveta, who also didn’t seem too worried. “He didn’t mean all of that,” Asher said softly. “Well, maybe. But he didn’t mean it rudely, I’m sure.”
“Hello,” said Elizaveta in her thick accent. “I’m Elizaveta!” It was still the only English she knew, several years into her stay in America.
“No, no, yeah, we met. Today, actually. Like, hours ago. Come to think of it, that’s probably the tenth time you’ve said that to me, so…”
“Hello!”
Asher smiled politely. “Okay then. Maybe I should go check on him,” he suggested while turning his attention to the passenger’s side window to see Cid fumbling through the snow like an idiot. “Ah, we’ll give him a minute,” he said playfully, turning back to Elizaveta. “Let him suffer a bit, huh? Think about what he’s done and all that.” Asher smirked before cranking the parking brake up and turning the heat just a bit higher.
After a struggle crunching his boots through the snow, Cid managed to make it to the side of the road, completely short of breath. Out of strength, he accepted his fate and willingly fell backwards, crashing down into the fluffy snow. After the initial impact, he could feel himself slowly slipping further and further into the snow, as if he was being swallowed whole by the planet. It was oddly comforting. As the snow continued to fall down on him, he wondered how long it would take to be completely buried by it. How long was he safe here, in this spot? As it stood, he didn’t want to leave it, especially not if it meant seeing his parents and sister for the first time in a really, really long time.
With no one else to talk to, he decided to talk to himself. This way, he could at least feel comfortable about being completely honest. “Been awhile since you had one of those dreams… Goddamn Syren, man. What are you even thinking about with her?” he wondered aloud. “Been awhile since you had an attack, actually. I mean… that’s progress, right? Even considering that you feel in danger on a near-constant basis, you’re at least not having attacks as often, huh? Surely, that’s worth something. A positive sign.”
He sighed. “Let’s maybe ignore the fact that the attacks going by the wayside could easily mean that you’re having a heart attack right now. This time, it could be real. If not a heart attack… maybe lungs? Used to smoke a bit. Might’ve finally caught up to you. Or maybe your brain is just rotting. Could be a tumor, too. Just wreaking havoc on your brain, or wherever the hell it spawned.”
He paused, running out horrible things to think of. After slowly closing his eyes, he felt the snowflakes continue to softly fall down onto him. He imagined himself being covered with a light blanket of snow, wrapped up nice and snug. The wind whistled over him, but he didn’t find himself caring about how damn cold it was. The benefits of having bigger things to worry about, maybe. “Or maybe you just needed a moment in the snow. Maybe you just needed a moment. Yeah.”
After a few moments, Asher stepped out of the car and made his way towards Cid, following the tracks until he saw a Cid-shaped hole in the snow. “Cid?” he called out. “You good, buddy?”
“Yes,” came a weak cry from the snow. “Just felt like making a snow angel.”
“Is this about the Helms thing again?”
Cid sighed, the air of his breath showing in front of him. “I’m just saying, I’m glad that he’s come back and done well and all, but I thought maybe I was worthy to do a repeat of 2011 where I won Return of the Year and Shocking Moment of the Year. I’m shocking, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Asher half-heartedly.
“It was a shocking moment, revealing myself to the world! Maybe the most shocking moment of the year, even!”
“If it makes you feel better, you were the winner in my heart. Honestly, whole thing was rigged,” Asher said with a confident smirk. “Elsa and Anna over us? I don’t think so, brother. Hate to say it, but I might be starting to buy into Ricky James and the theories of The Silent Majority. He may have decked me and got me pinned by an Uber driver, but… I wanna see those votes.”
“Maybe you’re right. That does make me feel a little better.”
“Hell yeah, I’m right. Now, can we get goin’? I’m from Chicago, so I’m diggin’ the Colorado cold, but I’m pretty sure my dick is about to freeze off. You know how important my dick is to me, dude.”
“No, yeah, I do,” said Cid as he sat up and began to get to his feet clumsily.
“Just saying, if it falls off, I’m beating you with it.”
“That’s fair,” Cid laughed, finally getting to a vertical base.
“Wouldn’t be pretty. You’d know what those yuppies on the Titanic felt like. C’mon, let’s go. You look like Selena Frost shat all over you.”
All three looked up at the long set of stone stairs before them, making their way all the way up to the front door of the parents of Cid. It was an abnormally long trek, one that now reminded Cid of his own path to his house. Of course, this trip would end up being about fifteen minutes less than his, but the walking aspect would probably make it feel even longer.
Asher stuck his car keys into his coat pocket and chuckled while eyeing the stairway. “Well, that’s cardio taken care of.” He turned to Cid. “You testing my leg?” Cid gave Elizaveta a tap on the shoulder before tapping his own back. On command, Elizaveta hopped up onto his back and straddled him, hooking her arms over his shoulders. “Aww. What a good husband.”
“Let’s just get goin’,” Cid advised as he began the long walk with Elizaveta hanging on his back. Behind him followed Asher. “I wanted to thank you, man.”
“Oh, yeah? What for?”
“Just having my back, y’know? Not just coming here with me, but… I know I’ve been weird since this Chad and Matt stuff. It’s a lot to take in and I know it’s led to some disagreements.”
“Well, with the TV title and all this shit with Glory, I guess I let it all get to me, too. We both could have handled it better.”
Cid shrugged, best as he could with a small Russian woman on his back. “I pushed you away and foolishly thought I could turn Matt back. Chad, too. I shouldn’t have let it get as far as it did at Last Laugh. I mean, if you didn’t show up during my match…” Cid paused briefly. “I dunno. Might have gotten out of hand.”
“Certainly looked that way. You know you should have told me about the spinal stenosis, right?”
Cid turned quiet. It was an embarrassing subject, not only because he hid it from pretty much everyone out of fear of how it could be used against him, but because it made him feel inferior emotionally as well. He had a notable weakness. One bad bump… it was hard to even think about. He instead ignored Asher’s question, getting back on track about the match with Hodges. “You told me, ‘he doesn’t care about you’. You said no one from then does. As sad as it is, I think you might be right.”
“Well—“
“But that doesn’t mean that they never will again,” Cid said with determination. Asher could only hang his head and shake it in response as he continued the climb. “I’m scared that I might have to fight them. If that’s what they want… if Matt wants it again, or if Chad wants it… I don’t know. I don’t know what I’ll do. But I’m not going to give up on either of them. One day, maybe a real long time from now, this shit’ll be sorted. They’re gonna reach the same point I did. I know they will, because we all have a connection. What brought us together once will bring us together again, eventually. We’ll be happy, man. They’ll see what you see in me. They have to. Who knows? Maybe Chad will calm down. Maybe he won’t do anything else. See the error of his ways, you know?”
Asher knew that there was no way that Chad was even close to finished. He considered Cid lucky so far. Chad could be a lot worse and would likely prove it soon. “As long as you realize that they’re not there yet and that you might have to slap the shit out of ’em, I guess,” said a somewhat wary Asher.
“And I hope that they see in you what I see in you, too,” Cid said before turning his head to lock eyes with Asher. “You’re my propeller, Ash. You lift me up and take me to new heights. I dunno where I’d be without you.”
“In a hospital bed courtesy of Matt Hodges, working on that box of doughnuts you bought,” Asher predicted.
Cid rolled his eyes and looked back towards his goal at the top of the stairs. Not long now. “Well, as previously stated, I threw away the doughnuts. I bought them in a moment of weakness after my familial dispute, but I found a way to overcome it. So, no.”
“I’ll believe that when I see the pounds come off.”
“You can be so hurtful.” The rest of the walk was completed in silence, minus the continuous grunts from Cid as he struggled to carry his Russian bride the further they got. Finally, they reached the top, and Elizaveta mercifully hopped off of Cid’s back. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Cid waited to knock on the door. He keeled over and rested his hands on his knees, looking up at Asher. “Again, just warning you, my parents are so damn annoying.”
“So you get it from them?”
“They’ll annoy the shit out of you,” Cid warned, just blowing by the barb from Asher. “Just try not to hold it against ’em, they’re just old and shit.”
“Sure thing.”
“Oh, and my sister Lacey,” Cid groaned. “Such a fucking biiitch, dude. God damn it, I’m already getting angry thinking of how bitchy she’ll be, especially after not having seen her for over a decade. This is why I brought you, man. I need someone to have my back.”
“Here I thought it was because we were becoming family.”
“This is going to be hell,” Cid complained before getting up and finally knocking on the door, even ringing the doorbell for good measure. “Hey, you could have brought your girlfriend. My folks would’ve been cool with it. What’s her name again? Kirsten?”
“Kristen. But nah, we broke up. I’ll never see her again,” Asher replied casually.
“Wait, what?”
Before Cid could dig any further, the door swung open to reveal his parents, two regular looking old white people. They looked harmless, maybe even inviting. Cid’s mom shot forward and embraced Cid. “Ohh, my Cidney,” she cried into his chest, squeezing tightly. “I’m so happy to see my baby boy.”
Cid rolled his eyes as his dad stepped forward, halfway joining in on the hug with one arm. “Heya, kiddo,” he grumbled with a soft smile. “Good to see ya.”
Cid reluctantly accepted their embrace, trying best to mask the shame that came with being coddled by his parents in front of Asher and Elizaveta. As they pulled away, he strangely found himself wanting it to last just a bit longer. He cleared his throat. “Hey, guys,” he said awkwardly.
“And who’s this?!” his mom asked excitedly, peeking over Cid’s shoulder to see Elizaveta.
Elizaveta gently waved. “Hello! I am Elizaveta!”
“Guarantee that’s not the last time you hear that tonight,” Asher chimed in before sticking his hand out towards Cid’s dad. “Hey there, I’m Asher, Cid’s caretaker.”
“That’s my friend Asher,” Cid quickly blurted out. He pointed over his shoulder. “That’s my wife Elizaveta. She’s Russian and doesn’t know English.”
“Oh, dear,” Cid’s mom mumbled before walking by Cid and reaching her arm around Elizaveta. She walked forward, guiding her daughter-in-law into the house. “We have so much to talk about, Elizaveta. We’re so glad to have you in our family.”
“Oh, my God, just leave her be, woman,” Cid hissed under his breath as his wife and mom disappeared into the house. “Dad, can you tell her to just settle down a bit?”
“Asher,” Cid’s father began with no regard to Cid’s complaints, “come, I’ll give you a tour of the place.” Asher stepped forward and followed Cid’s dad into the house, giving Cid a shrug as he passed by. “Y’know, I’ve been watching you on TV.”
Asher’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, no shit?”
Cid’s dad laughed heartily. “No shit. You’ve got a lot of talent.”
The two continued to chat as Cid stood alone outside of the open door. This was his personal hell. He considered throwing himself down the stairs, but that seemed a bit extreme. If he survived, he would probably have to just climb back up all of them. Not worth it. He sulked through the door before shutting it behind him and setting out to find where Asher and his dad had gone.
“Holy shit,” Asher exclaimed, almost looking in awe at the framed photo in front of him. It was Cid and his brother, Crusher. The team known as Xotic. The photo wasn’t unlike the one Cid saw in his brother’s office just a month ago, but it predated their time in SCW. Similar style and gear, though. There they both stood, in matching tight, shiny shirts and leather pants, along with their freshly dyed blue hair. “I thought this time in Cid’s life was scrubbed from the planet.” He turned to Cid, who was sulking in the corner of the room, which was basically a trophy room dedicated to the accomplishments of the Turner children. Asher couldn’t help but to smile. “Blue hair, dude.”
Cid’s dad stepped to the side to dig into a nearby drawer. “Actually got the pillowcase here from the night they dyed their hair.”
Cid groaned, “oh, no, you don’t.”
“Ohh, no, you don’t,” Asher echoed giddily while turning towards Cid’s dad.
“I do,” came the declaration from Cid’s dad while he turned to reveal an old, crusty pillowcase, permanently stained blue in the middle and spreading towards the edges. “They didn’t know what the hell they were doin’.”
Asher grabbed the pillowcase and looked at it. “Ohh, my God,” he said, almost moaning. He looked up at Cid’s dad, who was beaming proudly. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Ted,” Cid’s dad replied.
“Ted? As in, Ted Turner?” asked Asher, being given a nod in response. “Well, that’s awesome. Anyway, Ted,” Asher continued as he put an arm around Ted. “Thank you. Just… thank you. So much.” He stopped to take another moment to inspect the stained pillowcase, much to Cid’s dismay. “So, you were supportive of him becoming a wrestler?”
“Oh, yeah. His mother and I even made some custom belts for him and his brother for their backyard thing,” Ted replied while pointing out the low quality belts hanging on the wall. Asher looked up at them, expecting another thing to cackle at, but he instead felt it was a rather sweet gesture. They weren’t expertly crafted, but it was clear a lot of love went into creating them. “Those aren’t some rinky-dink indie shitshow belts they won. That’s their beginning. It’s when the dream was starting to look like a reality.”
Asher slowly nodded, still looking up at the belts. “That’s awesome, man. Glad you guys were there to support him.”
“Yessir, always. Oh, oh, you gotta hear the story of his first wrestling injury!”
Cid suddenly stepped forward, shouting, “NO!”
Asher stuck his hand up. “Excuse me, Cidney. Your father was in the middle of the story,” he said with a wry grin before turning to Ted. “Go on, sir.”
“Right, well,” Cid’s dad began before reaching back into a tall crate, digging through all sorts of toys and goodies. He reached down and ripped out a worn out doll that was the size of a small toddler. Upon further inspection, it was an old school CHBK Wrestling Buddy. “It all starts with the Canadian Heartbreak Kid.”
Asher literally held back tears of joy after letting out a weird, excited yelp. “No fucking way did you just pull that out.”
“Dad, please, no,” begged Cid, to no avail.
His dad continued to show it proudly. “You can see why he was so eager to challenge CHBK right after he won that second World Championship. This little guy… it’s great, isn’t it?”
“You have no idea,” Asher stated happily before turning to Cid. “This where you perfected your right hook?”
“Dad…”
Ignoring Cid, Ted continued. “So, we used to have this great trampoline in the back. All the kids loved it. Hell, I even took a few bounces on it, it was great fun. We set it up right next to our little pool out there so you could launch yourself off and into the water. Bit dangerous, maybe, but it was great. Cid and his brother, though, they started using it to do their wrestling. Again, not terribly safe, but they had a lot of fun, y’know?”
“Sure,” Asher said with a nod. Cid looked on in horror as the story continued.
“One summer, though… can’t remember where he was, but Cid’s brother was gone for a few weeks. His sister, Lacey – she wanted nothing to do with it, but this kid wanted to get some training in. He was so eager to get better at wrestling, he wanted to do this stuff every day, but his brother was the only one who would wanna do it with ‘im, so he needed to figure something out. That’s where this comes in,” Ted said, jiggling the CHBK Buddy around.
“The Canadian Heartbreak Kid, you mean,” said Asher, wanting to make sure to remind Cid that they were all talking about a wrestling legend that they currently work with and detest.
“Right, CHBK. So he takes his Wrestling Buddy on the trampoline and has a little match with it. I’m watching from the kitchen window and, y’know, he’s throwing everything at it. Backflips, frontflips, all kinds of rolls and holds. Looks good, really.”
“Oh, I bet,” Asher chimed in.
“But then the doll— well, CHBK, he hits him with a move. Can’t remember what, but somethin’ big.”
Finally, Cid felt the need to interject. “Christ, dad, it was a stunner. CHBK hit me with a stunner. If you’re gonna tell the story, tell it right.”
“Right!” his dad burst out with a clap of his hands. “That’s it, it was a stunner! Oh, and it was huge! It sends Cid flying into the air, that stunner on the trampoline. Problem is, Cid was a bit too close to the edge. He hits the edge of the trampoline on his way down, falls off of it and whacks himself on the edge of the pool, and falls into the water, limp as a rag doll.”
Asher laughed, but quickly stopped himself. “Oh. Sorry. That must have been scary for you, Ted.”
“Actually, I was laughing my ass off,” Ted declared loudly before bursting out into laughter. Given the go ahead, Asher joins in and even gets a high five from Cid’s dad. Meanwhile, Cid looks on in disgust. “I ran to his mom to tell her what happened and to call 911, but I was laughing so hard, I could hardly get it out! Just the imagery of him falling down, crumpling, flopping into the water – just hysterical!”
Cid let out an irritated sigh. “I mean, I could’ve drowned to death, but whatever. I’m sure it was hilarious,” he stated sarcastically.
“I eventually got it together, go out to grab him. By this point, he’s dragged himself out of the pool, thank God. He’s crawling on the ground, screaming in pain. I mean it, he was actually howling. He’s completely soaked. He looks and sounds like a dying dog, flopping about there on the ground.”
Asher continued to cackle. “Like a dog, you say!”
“Like a dying dog!” Ted repeated. “Ambulance has to come get him, turns out he broke his collarbone. And, well, there you have it. Cid’s first wrestling injury.”
Cid could only shake his head. He spoke up again, hoping to avoid the usual punchline for this story. “Well, you got to tell your favorite story, so—”
“He was nineteen years old,” Ted revealed with an innocent smile.
This was the moment that broke Asher. The horselaugh that emerged from him was actually quite unsettling. As the tears began to flow, he fell over from the laughing fit that was overtaking him. The only thing saving him from collapsing to the ground was Cid’s father, Ted, who offered a helping hand while laughing along with him, although he seemed more entertained by Asher’s reaction rather than the story he just told.
Cid, meanwhile, was fuming. “I WASN’T NINETEEN, DAMN IT!” he lied. “STOP LYING TO PEOPLE! I’M TELLING MOM, ASSHOLE!”
With that being said, Cid stormed off, making his way towards his mother while Ted tried to help Asher recover from possible hyperventilation.
“Mother,” Cid said somewhat calmly as he flew down the stairs before breaking out into a full on shriek. “MOTHER!”
“In the living room,” came his mom’s voice from the living room. Cid ran into the living room to see his mom sitting on the couch next to Elizaveta, who had a pair of headphones on while looking at an open book on her lap. Cid looked on in confusion. “Hey, hon, what’s the matter?”
Cid blinked a few times. “What the hell are you doing? What’s she listening to?”
“She’s Hooked on Phonics.”
“Hooked on Phonics? You still have those? Weren’t they outlawed? Is she listening to outlawed propaganda?”
His mom shook her head. “No, no, she’s doing excellent. Look at this.” She tapped Elizaveta on the shoulder, leading to Elizaveta taking off the headphones. “Hon, show Cidney what you’ve learned.”
Elizaveta smiled. “Merry Christmas! Happy New Year!” she yelled excitedly through her thick accent.
“Holy shit,” Cid muttered in amazement. “She learned that just in the time I’ve been upstairs?!”
His mom nodded before gesturing for Elizaveta to return to her Hooked on Phonics. “Cidney, you should be teaching her these things! How long have you two been together?”
“I’m not a teacher, damn it! Listen, dad, he—” Cid stopped suddenly, putting his nose into the air. A harsh, burning smell filled his nostrils. “What’s that smell? I smell burning. Am I having a stroke?!”
“Oh, shush,” Cid’s mom scolded while getting up from the couch to head towards the kitchen. “It’s just the roast cooking.”
“Mother,” Cid started sternly as his mom walked by him, “roasts are not supposed to smell like burnt toast. Wait, we have to talk about dad! He’s lying to my friends!” He turned to Elizaveta, who was lost in Hooked on Phonics. “Can you believe this? The way I’m treated, in my own childhood home, by my own family?” Serving as a reminder was Ted and Asher, who came walking down the stairs, joined together by laughter. Ted gave Asher a hard slap on the back before heading into the kitchen, leaving Asher to regroup with Cid. Cid glared at his tag team partner. “Having fun, are we?”
“Dude, your dad is awesome,” Asher said with a childish giggle. “He was even talking about some of our matches, man. He’s totally locked in on the A/C Unit!”
“You’re supposed to be helping me, damn it,” Cid retorted harshly. “Now you’re joining in with their—… their plot! Their plot, against me! Look at this.” Cid pointed to Elizaveta, not bothering to even look at her. “They’re teaching her English.”
“Ah, that’s great. It’d be nice to be able to hold a conversation with the woman.”
“Yes, maybe, but that’s not the point. They didn’t even ask me. What if I liked having a mute wife, huh? Some men would find that to be a dream come true. What if I was living my dream? Huh? Then here’s mom, coming to take it all away, and bring me back to reality!”
Asher narrowed his eyes at his friend. “I’m starting to think that you and this girl shouldn’t be married.”
“What do you know, huh? You just told me you broke it off with Kirsty and—”
“Kristen,” Asher quickly interjected.
“Whatever! What I’m saying is, maybe you’re not one to—” He was interrupted by the front door opening, followed by a greeting from a familiar female voice. Cid groaned. “Great, here we go. More people to pile on. Why must my family hate me so?”
Asher drew his eyes to the front hall. “Your sister?”
In stepped Lacey, Cid’s sister. Immediately, two new things stuck out to Cid. Her red hair and the toddler that she was carrying in her arm, hanging onto her shoulder. She tiptoed forward with enthusiasm before using her free arm to wrap Cid up in a hug. The toddler’s face ended up right next to Cid’s. Cid could smell something on the child’s breath. Vegetables? Maybe old fruit. Either way, disgusting. He wasn’t terribly fond of children. Even Asher’s nephew was awkward to be around, despite being a teenager. Lacey let go and smiled kindly at Cid. She was genuinely happy to see her brother for the first time in several years. “Cid, we’re so glad you’re here.”
Cid just stared at the child. “Why is there a kid in your arms?”
“This is Brian!” she gushed, bouncing the child up and down gently. “Meet your little nephew.”
“Nephew…”
Lacey finally noticed Elizaveta. “Oh, my God, is this the wife you’ve been hiding from us?!” She reached down and gently put her hand on Elizaveta’s shoulder, but to no reaction. She shot a look of concern at Cid. “She okay?”
“That’s Elizaveta. She’s Hooked on Phonics, thanks to mom. Just leave her be, okay? Look, she’s not important,” Cid said with a nod towards Asher, “this is my friend and tag team partner, Asher Hayes. Some also refer to us as bromosexuals, but I don’t know what that means.”
Asher had spent the entire conversation looking Lacey up and down, checking out everything she had to offer. She was incredibly attractive to him in this moment, whether it be because he was currently on a mission to get it in as much as possible or because of the whole forbidden fruit aspect. He wasn’t sure. Probably both. “Hey, nice to meet ya,” he ventured forth with charm.
“You too! Thanks so much for looking after my brother while my other brother works safely behind a desk.” Lacey clicked her tongue. “I wish he could be here with us tonight, but I’m glad you got to see him a few weeks back, Cid. Again, we’re all just so happy you’re reaching out.”
Cid rolled his eyes. “So, where’s the father to little Brian? Lemme guess, he left your annoying ass?!” He cackled loudly while throwing up his hand to Asher for a high five.
Asher, however, looked unamused. “What the hell, man?”
“What? I’m just jokin’ around!”
Lacey cleared her throat, her jovial attitude dulling somewhat. “We got divorced a few years back, not long after this little guy was born.”
Cid blinked repeatedly at his sister while slowly lowering his hand. “Oh.”
“It wasn’t pretty… but, that’s all right, I’m doing just fine with little Brian to keep me company!”
There was an awkward silence as Lacey continued to softly bounce her son. Cid coughed. Asher decided to be the hero and break the silence. “He sounds like a prick. Good on you, gettin’ rid of that deadweight!”
Lacey’s face dropped some more. She just continued to look into Brian’s eyes. “I guess I’m still thankful for him, in a way. He taught me that there’s no such thing as soulmates.”
Cid and Asher looked at each other. It appeared Lacey was on the verge of tears. “Fuckin’ hell,” Asher mumbled under his breath.
Lacey took a breath and suddenly perked up. “Hey, I should probably go help mom in the kitchen! You know how she is,” she laughed. “Liz is good with kids, right? She looks motherly.”
Lacey sat Brian next to Elizaveta, who didn’t react whatsoever. Cid went to interject, “oh, she’s—”
“Thanks, Cid,” Lacey said before giving Cid a peck on the cheek. She lingered, staring closely at his face. “You look good. Hairy, but good. You have a different glow now, big brother.”
Cid’s eyes darted around his sister’s face. “Um… okay.” His sister walked off, disappearing into the kitchen. Once she was out of sight, Cid released a long held groan, throwing his head back in exasperation. “Ohh, what a bitch,” he moaned while returning his gaze to his friend. “She’s so damn annoying.”
Asher shook his head in confusion. “Dude, what? That woman loves you, for some reason! Your dad, too! He wasn’t annoying at all, he was awesome! He was so proud of you, man. Proud of us! Your family might be the most supportive family I’ve ever seen. I feel supported. I wanna come back here next holiday season. Plus, your sister…? Dude, she could get it.”
Cid scoffed. “Excuse me?”
“You know, she could get it. As in—”
Cid quickly shot his hand up. “No, no. I know what it means. But I’m quite sure I’ve asked you multiple times to stop saying that people can ‘get it’. It’s disgusting. Not only that… you’re talking about my sister, dude!”
“What, you don’t want me to be your brother?”
Cid took a moment to ponder. It actually sounded kind of cool. He shook his head, however. “Man, that’s not the point.”
“Sorry, bud, I’ve just been really into redheads lately,” Asher admitted. “I’m not sure what it is. MILFs, too. They call to me.”
“MILFs?! Can you not?! I—” Cid cut himself off, catching something in the corner of his eye. It was his nephew, Brian. He was still sitting on the couch next to Elizaveta, staring at Cid and Asher. “… do you think he understands human words yet?”
“No, we should be fine.”
The three boys stared at each other. “He won’t stop staring at me,” Cid whispered with caution. “Why are children so damn weird?”
“They’re not weird,” Asher laughed before crouching down to Brian’s level. “How you doin’, little man?”
The kid giggled and smiled at Asher, who did the same in return. Cid looked on. It was actually somewhat touching. It was weird to think, but this little boy he hadn’t met before was his blood. Creepy, but still family. Despite how annoying Lacey was from his point of view, Cid couldn’t help but feel a small pit forming in his stomach upon thinking about how he had missed most of this boy’s life, all because he felt the need to push his family away. He started to question if he actually hated them or if he was just ashamed to face them after the way he had always treated them, whether his actions were justified or not. After his injury, it seemed kind of meaningless to even bother reaching out to anyone. The longer it went on, the more awkward it got to attempt to rekindle any sort of relationship in his life. He was basically forced into returning into the ring by his friend/carer/unofficial son/roommate Clyde Warner, thrusting him back into the public eye and back into regular living at the same time.
Maybe it was a case of better late than never. Cid looked down at Asher, who continued to entertain Brian. It was actually quite sweet, seeing Asher with a child. As Brian continued to giggle relentlessly at just the sight of Asher, it was clear he had a way with children. “So,” Cid began, “what’s up with you and Kristen?” Hearing the question, Asher stood back up. “Or, more importantly, what’s up with you? Breaking up with people, out here trying to bang sisters… what else are you up to?”
“How do I put this simply?” Asher asked himself before taking a moment to think. “I am… alive.”
“That’s not simple. Not at all. I don’t understand what that means.”
“It means I’ve reached a higher plane of consciousness,” Asher declared casually, oozing confidence. “Take New Year’s Eve, for example. I got pinned by an Uber driver.”
“I didn’t want to mention it, but yeah. You did.”
“I did,” confirmed Asher, still carefree. “And I lost to Glory after I nobly vacated the TV title, leaving me with absolutely nothing to end the year.”
“I didn’t want to mention that either, but… well… yes, you did.”
“And it sucked balls, all of it. And yeah, I’m still a bit fuckin’ annoyed at some shit that took place, but I’m done wallowing. No more sitting around, feeling sorry for myself, whether it be about Ricky James, Glory Braddock, the Uber driver, or even Kristen. This isn’t a New Year’s resolution, either, so don’t try and label it. You and me,” Asher said as he put a hand on Cid’s shoulder, “we’re gonna buttfuck SCW and we’re gonna buttfuck this year, next year, and all the years following.”
“Buttfuck?” asked an unsure Cid.
“That’s right. Not only that, but we’re gonna buttfuck your brain, too.”
“This sounds unpleasant.”
“No, man, no,” Asher said with an exasperated sigh. “No! That’s your problem, you’re clenched.”
“Clenched?”
“Yeah, man, all clenched up. Let that hole loose, brother. Open up, gape that sucker, and we’ll go far together.”
“So, wait… buttfucking SCW sounds great, but isn’t buttfucking myself a bad thing?”
“There you go again, man,” said Asher as he took his hand off of Cid’s shoulder while shaking his head. “This is what I’m saying. You have to change your perspective. Join me on this higher plane, where giving and taking are of equal importance. Life is about balance, man. So, let’s go buttfuck and get buttfucked… together.”
“Wow,” Cid said with an exhale, “buttfucking has never sounded so enticing.”
From the kitchen, Cid’s mom entered the room. “What are you two talking about in here?” she asked innocently.
“Oh, well, y— you know,” Cid stammered, “just—… just guy stuff.”
His mom rested a hand on Asher’s shoulder. Asher – having a good few inches on her – looked down at the sweet woman. “Asher, dear, could you please help Lacey in the kitchen? My hands are getting tired.”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Turner.”
Cid’s eyes widened. “You stay away from my sister!”
“Don’t worry, bud,” Asher said with an unnecessarily hard slap to Cid’s back before he went to pick up Brian. “I’ll take real good care of ‘er.”
“Oh, Cid, leave him alone, he’ll be fine in there.”
“He’s not the one I’m worried about!” Cid cried in response as Asher left the room, carrying Brian with him. “Why’s he taking the kid? Are you allowed to touch other people’s kids, ma?”
“Come, sit,” she demanded politely as she popped a squat next to Elizaveta, who might as well have not even come to this family gathering. Reluctantly, Cid took a seat next to his mother, filling the couch. “We haven’t had a chance to really talk yet.”
Cid sighed. “Not much to talk about, really.”
“Do you know the last time I saw you?”
“I know, it’s been a few years, but—”
“It’s been over ten years.”
With his eyes drifting to his feet, Cid thought about all that had transpired in that time. So much bullshit. So much heartache. “Well, shit,” he said with an awkward chuckle, “time flies, I guess.”
“Look at me,” she asked of him, putting a finger under his chin to bring him back up to her level. “Stop hanging your head. We’ve all been watching you on TV, you do that so much, hang your head. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” he bluffed, and again, his eyes drifted away from his mother’s. “I just get nervous sometimes, y’know? I mean, we’re on national television. I’m putting myself out there. It can sometimes be humiliating, losing and getting beat up.”
“You don’t cut your family off for ten years and come back looking the way you do if everything’s normal. Your brother told me it seemed like you were having a tough time, and that’s ignoring everything we’ve seen on TV.”
Scratching the back of his mane, Cid hung his head again. “Christ, he’s eager to create family drama for someone that isn’t even here for the holiday dinner.”
“You know how busy he gets with work. Plus, we kind of had to work around your schedule after you cancelled the initial plans.”
“I had to deal with some stuff,” he said, referring to the last month where he spent most of his free time lying in bed and staring at the ceiling following his win over Matt Hodges at Last Laugh. While it should have been a cathartic experience, it ended up being the opposite. It felt more like it was just another nail in the coffin of his relationship with Hodges, one step closer to hammering that small opening closed. “Sorry for the reschedule, but, yeah, I’m here now.”
His mother sighed and began to rub his back gently, hoping that he could still feel and benefit from the comfort of a loving mother, forty years on. “And trust me, we’re all grateful for that. We’re not here to judge you. We just want to make sure that you’re okay. We all care for you, so much. It hurt us that you stopped reaching out to us, but it hurt us even more to learn that you were suffering through something all the while.”
A lump raised into Cid’s throat. Just another obstacle in the way of keeping a steady stream of relaxed breaths. “Yeah, well… I’m here now,” he repeated. “That’s what matters, right? The here and now. I’m here.”
“Cidney,” she called out, not much more than a whisper. Cid looked up to his mother, his eyes starting to sting. “Stick around this time. Don’t leave again, okay? Okay, hon? We want you here with all of us. We want to be here for you, always.” All he could do was nod softly. She reached forward and pulled him forward, once again embracing the son she thought she might never see again, at least not in person.
Without any reluctance, Cid reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her sweater, an admission of guilt loaded with over ten years of regret.
To his loving mother, that was all it took. A good hug, accompanied by an apology. No need to elaborate any further. The last decade no longer mattered. What mattered was that he was there now, just like he said. Patting him on the back, she spoke after a few moments of silence. “You know, we still talk to Elizabeth,” she mentioned as they pulled away from each other. Cid wiped his eye with a finger. His mother was referring to Cid’s ex-wife, who he hadn’t seen since the morning after his life was changed by an injury. Just like he did to his family, he pushed her away, all while she was just trying to help him through a hard time. “She’s asked about you. I think it’s important that you talk to her. You guys have a lot to catch up on, I think. That’s all I’ll say.”
Again, Cid could only nod. Eager to change the subject, he shrugged it off. “I should probably check on Asher. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to bed Lacey.”
His mom laughed in response, waving off the suggestion. “He seems like a good friend. Your dad loves him on the show. Honestly, it’d be nice for Lacey to see someone. He seemed good with Brian, too.”
“Yeah, he’s a’ight,” Cid said playfully before standing up. “I’m gonna go see what’s up. Can you keep an eye on Elizaveta?”
His mom turned around to see Elizaveta, still Hooked. “Oh, my. I forgot she was there.”
“Yeah, she tends to blend in,” he grunted as he headed towards the kitchen.
He stopped in the doorway, leaning against the arch. Asher continued to hold Brian, much to the admiration of Lacey. Maybe Asher being with Lacey wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It was more than likely he was just looking for another hole to plunder, what with all the talk of buttfucking, but who knows? Anything could happen. He really was great with Brian after only knowing him for a handful of minutes.
Ted stood with them, chopping up something on the bench in front of him, all with their backs turned to Cid. “Honest to God,” Ted began to proclaim loudly, “he has another run in him. Forty year olds these days, they seem to hit a second prime. You guys will be tag champions by the end of the year, I swear it.”
Asher laughed. “You’re Goddamn right, Ted.”
“I think either one of you could win the big one, too. I really, really do,” Ted said with confidence.
“We’ve got goals, man. We’re gonna take care of business this year, the two of us. The world deserves to see Cid back at this level.” Asher paused as Ted nodded in agreement. “Hell, Cid deserves it. He’s trying his best, you know? He deserves some good things coming his way.”
Ted set the knife down and put his hands on the bench. He turned his head towards Asher. “You’re a good man, Asher.”
“Tell that to all my exes!”
Asher stuck his tongue out jokingly, but Ted got off the bench and turned to him, a dead serious look on his face. Asher sucked his tongue back in. “I mean it. You care for Cid, and I can tell. You’re being genuine. That’s why the fans love you. You’re real, and honest. To think, Cid could have ended up with someone else. It’s just—” Ted stopped to bite his fist, fighting off tears. He shook his head and wrapped an arm around Asher’s neck. Using his other hand to pat Asher on the chest, he leaned in closely. “Th-thank— thank you,” he sputtered. “Thank you, for taking care of my boy— my son. Thank you so much.”
As uncomfortable as it was to have an old man spitting crying in his face, Asher didn’t seem to mind in the moment. Surveying the scene proved to be a bit surreal. Asher, holding little Brian, with Ted clinging on to him as Lacey looked on, the look on her face making Cid believe that she shared the same sentiments as their father. It was like Asher was part of the family. Strange, someone he had met not even a year ago had already become such a huge part of his life. He may not have yet made an impact on his life like Matt Hodges and Chad Evans had, but it was hard to imagine those two taking his place in this moment. Tonight was uniquely Asher Hayes and Cid found himself feeling as grateful as his father was.
“It’s been my pleasure,” Asher said before smirking. “Well, most of the time. He can be abrasive.”
Ted laughed softly, sniffling. “Yeah, he can be… but he means well, I think.”
“I think so, too.”
As the three continued to converse, Cid remained in the doorway, just watching. Not only did it feel awkward to interrupt a moment that was inspired by his presence, but it felt like anything he could do would only hamper the moment. Instead, he let Asher continue to bond with his family, appreciating the moment from a distance. Maybe this wasn’t the worst thing in the world. For the first time since maybe this whole Chad Evans ordeal started, Cid felt genuine happiness as a subtle smile formed on his face.
Cid sat in front of his usual dark grey backing screen, looking disheveled as he normally does, but also looking noticeably physically and emotionally drained. After a few moments of just staring at the floor, he sighed and slowly brought his head up towards the camera.
“God works in mysterious ways,” he began, somewhat monotone. “Feel free to dissect any deeper meaning behind me saying that at this particular moment in time, but… what I mean is, the way this Tag League was set up, Asher Hayes and I could have faced anyone this week. Even ignoring the chance of us being in the other block facing other incredible teams like Frozen Hell, Dark Fantasy, or-or… these… blooming teams like Suited and Booted, or Psychonauts… ignoring that possibility, just think about when this schedule was constructed, in this block. This week, we could have faced Bree and Sienna with everything on the line, or The Wonderland in the middle of them terrorizing the entire company, or we could have been the final opponents for The Holly and Polly Connection, ready to put them out of their tag team misery.
No, no, we’ve already worked our way through all of them. Instead, while just the thought of family is wreaking havoc throughout my brain, A/C Unit is set up to face a team whose roots are strengthened by the concept of family. In our last match of the entire SCW Tag League, with everything on the line for A/C Unit, we’re facing Owen Cruze and Aaron Blackbourne… The Perfect Pack.
Honestly, I don’t love the name,” said the man whose team is named after a home appliance, “but I can’t really argue with it, can I? You’ve all lived up to the label you’ve so confidently given yourselves. I mean, the matriarch herself, she’s got it all figured out now, hasn’t she? She’s the Manager of the Year. She’s built a team that is valiantly standing up against a group of crazed radicals trying to take over SCW while also staying near the top in the Tag League all the while. Getting personal, she’s very publically sorted the whole thing with her child and now she’s getting married to Blake Mason, who seems fine, I guess. Rich as hell. The kid’ll never want for a thing in his life, y’know? Good for him, and I mean that. He’s been through a lot, by the sounds of it. Anyway, from my point of view, it really seems like the perfect family, as advertised. I wish you guys the best, especially with the type of people you guys have on your tail. But the family I’m really interested in is the family you’ve assembled in SCW.
Aaron, I’m going to be blunt. You’re weird as hell, man. I kinda dig it, but… yeah, you’re weird. I remember the first time I saw you wrestle. Taking Hold of the Flame, 2020. It was the first SCW show I’d watched since I left the company back at the start of 2012, so it was a bit overwhelming. So many new faces. At the time, I thought that SCW must be a flailing company by this point, just because me and my peers weren’t around anymore. I mean, the original is always better than the cover, right? Or maybe this was more of a case of a band peaking with their first album. Either way, I got trapped in that old school mindset and was questioning my decision to even bother watching the program, but I did it anyway, just to prove that I was right, you know? But to my surprise, pretty much everyone was amazing… and the thing is, without having any name value, I could only judge people by the skills that they were showing off in the ring. It was honestly inspiring, seeing how much the sport had progressed and the things this new breed was capable of. Again, though, it was hard to keep up. I didn’t know anyone, so it wasn’t easy to get fully invested. It took effort for people to stand out beyond being just ‘good in the ring’.
But you, Aaron, you stood out. Now, it wasn’t all totally positive. Like I said, you’re weird, man. It was a bit jarring to experience you make your entrance into the match. This match was for the SCW World Championship, the biggest title in the business. If you’re fighting for that trophy, live on pay-per-view, you mean something to the company and to the fans. So, why is this circus freak here, challenging for the top prize in the game? Is this a mistake? No, really, who is this guy, coming out in a bigass robe, all painted up with random markings and little messages of love and support? Why are his eyes white? Is this dude blind?” Cid paused, reflecting on the moment before continuing. “I did warn you that my first impressions weren’t all positive, but you did stand out. And before the match even started, what was it that you screamed in the middle of the ring, loud enough for everyone in the arena to hear?
‘Hopes and dreams will never die’.” For the first time on the video, Cid cracked a half-smile, a dry chuckle escaping his mouth. “I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that your message was what inspired me to come back to SCW, because it’s not. But I would be lying if I told you it didn’t make me think. Think about it… there I am, watching my first SCW event in almost a decade. I wouldn’t be watching it if I didn’t have that thought in the back of my brain, trying to break its way through to the forefront, telling me to go back and finish things the right way. But I can’t, right? I mean… spinal stenosis, as the world now knows. It’s just too risky. Plus, they wouldn’t have me back, would they? The company, the fans. I’m no longer welcome there, so don’t even bother trying. God, those thoughts were already there before the series of matches I had already sat through up until the World Championship match, where every competitor looked like they’d already far outshone anything I’d ever done inside that ring. I could only shake my head, disappointed in myself for even thinking about stepping back into this world. What’s with this false sliver of hope that I’d be allowed to come back? This… pipe dream that I could not only compete safely, but compete against the best. I needed to push those hopes and dreams out of my mind.
But there you were, like a sign from God Himself, yelling into the cosmos… ‘hopes and dreams will never die’. It’s like you were talking to me. Deep stuff, Aaron. I’ll always remember that. Then I come to learn that you weren’t alone on this journey, despite you seeming like something of an outcast. You shattered those illusions by showing that you were welcomed into the open arms of this Perfect Pack, finding a family that accepted you for who you are. The Creative Soul, Aaron Blackbourne. You’ve found a home.
And the person you’ve seemed to grow the closest to is your tag partner, Owen Cruze. Of all of the people I’ve spoken about here, no one represents the concept of family more than Owen Cruze. Owen, your father’s legacy would live on regardless of whatever you ended up doing in this company. Hell, you didn’t even have to come to this company. You could have done whatever you wanted outside of this business and the name ‘Orlando Cruze’ would still hold an enormous weight in this industry. But what did you do, coming into the world of wrestling with the weight of that name on your shoulders? You upheld the legacy.
Seeing you wrestling in this company was a bit unsettling. Not for any deep reasoning, it’s just… you look like a kid out there. But catching up with you and what you’ve done, I thought, ‘well, this isn’t a kid, this is a man’! You haven’t been here long, but you’ve already been a World Champion! A main event player, which only further solidified my thought that this wasn’t a kid on my TV, this was a fully grown man… but then I gave you the ole Google. I saw your birthday, your age. Jesus Christ, Owen. You’re a kid. I mean it. I’m old enough to be your father and I’m not even that old, so you’re a damn kid. But… you’re a World Champion?! What the hell is this? Are you Henry Rowengartner? Did you suffer a strange injury, only to find during your recovery that it somehow made you stronger than ever before? Is there some supernatural force at work here?
No. It’s none of that. It’s just… in your genes. Because, like the saying goes, ‘legends never die’. Your father lives on through your performances, and it shows. You’re headlining shows at this age like it’s a completely natural thing to do, when it’s really not. Like I said just before, you didn’t have to do anything of this to keep the Cruze legacy alive, but you did. You went above and beyond what people expected of you, especially at this age. Christ, you’re probably not even in your prime. Because of that, your wish of keeping the Cruze legacy alive and thriving has already come true, but by the time you’re done here, we might not even be talking about Orlando as the person that holds everything up. There might just be a new legend that your children and your children’s children have to live up to.
So, what is this? Fate? A week after I saw a man I consider family massacre a man that is actually my family, all on television for the entire world to see, I face the team whose foundation is built on family, coming from a man who’s trying his damndest to uphold a family legacy, and from a man who could have easily been pushed away from society due to his eccentricities, but found a home, a group of people who supported him, all gathered by someone who’s the living embodiment of ‘perfection’, whether it be in or out of the ring.
What does it all mean? Like, do I embrace the person that I consider family, like Aaron does with his Perfect Pack? Chad Evans, he was my brother, spiritually. Maybe even a father figure, in all honesty. Is this match – happening at this exact time – telling me to hold onto Chad Evans, despite everything he’s done, or will do? Does that mean accepting His divine punishment, week after week? Or am I supposed to listen to the man I looked up to and respect his wishes, do what he asks despite not wanting to… just walk out of the ring forever? I was told that my condition has improved, but what does that really mean? Chad could be right. One move and it could be over. Owen Cruze and Aaron Blackbourne could be responsible for putting me in a wheelchair. Is it really Goddamn worth it?”
He stopped and looked beyond the camera at nothing in particular, chewing his tongue inside of his mouth, pondering. “Or is this match telling me something else? Do I look at Owen and see how proudly he represents his father and his uncle? I should be representing my brother, my real brother. Crusher, as he’s known in SCW history. I should be overcoming these obstacles and fighting on behalf of my family, shouldn’t I? Fighting through the pain, all while stepping up against the stacked odds, this is what legends are supposed to do— what someone in the SCW Hall of Fame is supposed to do. The right thing to do here would be to go on to face Chad Evans and defeat him for everything he’s done to me and my people. That’s what’s right, right?
Truth is, I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing on a day-to-day basis, really. These questions— they’re just beyond my mental capacity. All I know right now is that A/C Unit has to beat Owen Cruze and Aaron Blackbourne, The Perfect Pack. If we don’t, we’re out of the League. So, that’s what we’re going to do. Owen, Aaron, even Kelcey… I don’t know if there’s some deeper meaning here, us meeting right now. I need to find out, though. If going through you not only gets us into the semi-finals of this tournament, but it helps me understand everything that I’m going through… that’s just what I have to do. It’s more than likely I just sound like an idiot, saying all of this crap. But I guess there’s only one way to find out. I’ll see you then.”
THE RISE OF THE FALLEN KING 