Here We Go

For most of my life, I’ve been content with loneliness.

Maybe it had something to do with getting married at an early age and it all going to hell at a frightening pace. That might’ve just stunted my ability to love. 

Between the time of my divorce with Elizabeth and the one night stand with her several years later that led to the birth of my daughter, I was only with one woman. Can’t even remember her name. She was just some talent that passed through SCW and disappeared when she couldn’t cut it in the big leagues, or maybe word spread through the locker room of our extremely brief affair and she couldn’t face the shame of being associated with me, which is fair enough.

Something clicked in my brain during my years as a hermit in the mountains of Colorado, however. Always the solitary man at sea, I suddenly found myself overwhelmed by the eerie stillness.

It could’ve been hitting forty. Not that that’s elderly – it’s a decent enough age. Decent enough to be the World Champion of the premier professional wrestling company in the world. Still, there’s something different about being on that other side of forty. You know that you’ve reached a halfway point and that you’re running out of time. In my case, I had regrets that I was afraid would follow me to my deathbed.

It’s been a strange journey. I’ve rekindled relationships with my family and friends. Some of them have flourished, others have been forever put to bed. I’ll always have my parents and brother and sister now. I’ll never be able to confide in Chad Evans and Matt Hodges again, however. It’s probably for the best.

The most important relationship in my life was – or is – with Elizabeth. It was to the point that I proposed to her the first time I’d seen her in damn near ten years. Not only did she laugh in my face at such a proposal, but she let me know that our one night stand led to a little girl and that my time away led to that little girl having a stepdad, who served as my replacement before I even had a chance to know her.

I feel like I’ve just been chasing love ever since I’ve come back to the real world and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. You don’t propose to someone you haven’t seen in a decade. You don’t marry a Russian mail-order bride. You don’t spend months of your life with a French girl who doesn’t know a lick of English just because she shows you attention and is horny. These are pretty basic principles of love to most everyone, but to me, these were lessons hard learned.

I think my lesson in love following Rise to Greatness XVIII was that if you fight your love interest and you’re both aiming to possibly permanently injure one another, she’s probably not your love interest. Though judging by what Minerva and Konrad Raab had been getting away with on television around this time, maybe that was a thing. I dunno.

That being said, when I shared the ring with Syren at Rise to Greatness, I felt the same way that I did with her exactly one year prior at the same event: mesmerized. This time was a little different though.

No Asher, no Ravyn. 

To be able to dance with Syren – just Syren – in front of all those people was…special. She’ll go down as my favorite opponent of all time. From bell-to-bell, we had a connection that I feel like I’ll never have with anyone ever again, whether it be a man or woman. I can’t speak highly enough of the time we’ve shared together. I hope it was half as good for her as it was for me.

After the bell, though…I don’t even know.

There’s a lot of clichés about men. I’ve never considered myself very macho. Women are better at driving than me, I’m indifferent about sports, I don’t care about beer, and I don’t obsess over sex. I want to feel love with another human being.

Or, at least, that’s what I thought.

When I dropped Syren on her neck with a powerbomb and pinned her – one, two, three – in the middle of the ring, I heard that bell ring out over thousands and thousands of people, signifying that I’d once again conquered my enemy. That sound is something that usually triggers a Pavlovian response in me.

Ding, ding, ding!

My heart fills up from the sharp ringing. I feel invincible. I’ve become a god, however briefly.

Something was different at Rise to Greatness.

I was afraid that I’d finally become a cliché. I took Syren out. I wined her, dined her, danced with her, and plowed myself into her with her back against the mat for three seconds. It was everything I had ever dreamed of.

Until that bell rang.

I didn’t feel like a god. I was happy, don’t get me wrong. I felt like I was on the path to redeeming myself after losing to Selena Frost a month prior, and I was thrilled that Asher was there to celebrate the moment with me, but it just felt kinda…empty.

Had I just used Syren? I felt this deep connection, but was it real? Or was I just so desperate for a companion that it blinded me to the possibility of the truth that I wasn’t actually in love with Syren? I was afraid that defeating her provided me with clarity. I wanted to beat her so bad to prove myself to her, but once I finally did it, I had no use for her. Maybe she just wasn’t that important after all.

Cid, you absolute stud. You chad. You manly man, you. You hit her with the ol’ pump ‘n’ dump. Did it feel good being bad?

Not really.

“Here we go,” Asher cheered through his beaming smile. “Back in the saddle, baby!”

I kept a smile on my face as we walked through the curtain, making our way backstage. I think the smile was natural, at least. I was happy that Asher was happy. He’d had a rough go of it after Taking Hold of the Flame. Really, we all had. Me, Asher, and Holly. Rise to Greatness was a return to form for A/C Blondetourage Unit.

“You finally kicked it into gear, brother,” Asher continued, forcefully slapping me on the back while we continued our way to the locker room. “Finally, motherfucker, finally! Pulling your weight! You pulled that off even without my support at ringside!”

“I beat her,” I muttered, almost in awe of myself. “I actually beat her.”

“I mean, I was there for the first half of the match. My aura must’ve lingered around the ring after that bitchass Hollinsworth tossed me, giving you the edge you needed. Not to mention, Holly’s intoxicating scent was embedded into the arena after she went splat multiple times, so I’m sure that fueled you too. But, y’know, still, you did the grunt work!”

“Holly didn’t come out when I won.”

“She’s a champion now,” he said with the same pride that he seemed to hold for me. “She’s out celebrating with those banshees, man. You know how it is, you get that gold, and suddenly everybody wants a suckle on your perfect tit.”

“You talking about you or Holly?”

“Both of us, my man. Both.” He seemed briefly lost in thought, staring into space. I assume he was daydreaming of Holly’s titty. After snapping out of it, he turned back to me. “Now, you gotta follow up. Can’t be like last time where you got complacent. You can’t be the only one in the group without gold.”

“Where’s your belt?”

“It’s a title,” he quickly shot back. “A championship title.”

“That’s what I meant, sorry. Where’s your title?”

“Look, Holly and I have plans for that,” he told me as we got into the locker room. “By the time SCW’s break’s over, we’ll be on our way to me being officially recognized as World Champion. Until then, I’m keeping the belt on ice.”

“Okay then,” I sighed, taking a seat in my locker, resting my head on the wall behind me. Asher opted to stand up, pulling out his phone and tapping away. I think he’d gotten faster at texting ever since hanging around Holly. Her teaching had spread to us in a variety of ways. I had to mention something though. “I notice she hasn’t really been around as much since I—since we lost the belt.”

“Title,” Asher quickly corrected me, still swiping on his phone.

“Right. Just kind of weird timing. You’d think she’d wanna coach us back up.”

“She is, trust me.”

“Well, she’s not really telling me anything.”

“She doesn’t talk to you?”

“I dunno,” I said with a shrug. I realized that my smile had faded away. “Not really.”

“Oh, man, she talks to me all the time,” he bragged, but if I’m being honest, it kind of sounded like he was lying. I don’t know why he’d lie about that. Maybe he was just distracted by his phone or something and he just blurted it out. I don’t know. “Big plans.”

“That’s good,” I conceded. It was a wild month or so, I couldn’t blame Holly for neglecting to let me in on some things. “I’m just glad you’re back from your life coaching mandated house arrest and that you no longer have to wear your life coaching mandated ankle bracelet. It’s good to see you here in person, especially after Holly forbade me from sharing the same air with you just in case your murderous tendencies were a result of some rare airborne virus.”

“Bet you’re glad I bought you all those phones to keep in touch with me, huh?”

“Heh, yeah,” I chuckled lightly. Asher had gone a bit overboard after Xander Valentine smashed my phone, but he wanted to make sure that he was still around in some manner after being falsely accused of attempted murder for thirty days. “I don’t think Holly wanted to lose another client to suspension, especially with me facing Syren.”

“Speaking of, why’d you offer to help that bimbo up?” asked Asher, finally looking up from his phone to glare down at me. “Mind games?”

It was a good question, especially when considering the fact that I was sure that I had just used her like a cheap prostitute. God, not even that. I was getting paid to use her. How horrible.

“I respect her,” I told him, which I think was true.

When I offered her my hand, I didn’t really think anything of it. It just seemed right to do. Maybe I actually do care for her, I thought. Maybe my brain was just in a post-emotional-coitus fog. This could’ve been like when mommas give birth and feel all sad afterwards. Our minds sometimes can’t cope with things of such beauty.

“Mind games,” Asher said confidently, smirking and nodding at this confirmation that went against what I had actually told him. “You fucked up that bitch’s mind, dude. My man.”

“Do you remember after Rise to Greatness last year?” I asked him, leaning forward and looking down at my boots on the ground.

“We totally won the war,” he scoffed, referring to our mostly cold war against Dark Fantasy. Maybe he was right. Asher had beaten both Syren and Ravyn on separate occasions since our loss to them, and I finally got to settle the score with Syren. Even if I never got the chance against Ravyn, the numbers were in our favor. Just another thing that didn’t feel quite as good as I’d hoped. “Maybe now everyone’ll stop treating them like they’re the best tag team ever when we’re right here.”

“I remember coming from the ring after the match,” I began, taking a moment to pause while the memory played out in my head. Asher was silent while I continued to think and just look down at the floor. I assumed that he was listening intently, maybe even reliving the memory himself. “I was so scared that I’d done irreparable damage to myself that I wasn’t really processing the fact that we lost. I was sure that I’d just killed myself. I thought that our match against Dark Fantasy was the last match I’d ever have. In a way, I was kind of okay with that. I could at least say that I came back and did it once, even if I was forever paralyzed from it.”

I heard Asher release some sort of stifled grunt. I figured he was holding back tears.

“But you told me that we’d be all right,” I continued. “You said we’d come back from the loss and show Syren and Ravyn that we’re better than them. I guess we have now.” 

I stopped and took a deep breath. Through a heavy exhale, I thought of everything that had happened in the year since returning. It almost seemed surreal. Overwhelming. Everything here was different. Outside of SCW too.

I wondered if Clyde and Elizaveta watched the pay-per-view from whatever hellhole they found themselves in after I’d kicked them out of my house before I burnt it to the fucking ground. Did Elizabeth watch me showing the world that I’m capable of beating the best of all time? Was Sydney watching with her? Was she proud of her dad? What about my folks? My brother and sister? Would Chad or Hodges dare to watch my triumph in whatever crack den they were currently occupying? These were all people who weren’t a part of my life a year ago. I’d lost a lot of them since. If not physically, then emotionally.

“So much has changed,” I whispered to myself.

On the side of my boot, a glistening wisp of thread hung. I reached down and plucked it away, bringing it up to my face. A golden strand.

I think it was Syren’s hair.

“Can I tell you something?” I asked as I let the single hair fall to the floor. I brought myself up and looked at Asher, who wasn’t reminiscing about our last year together as A/C Unit, but was instead transfixed on his phone. I don’t think he was even listening. “I’ve never felt more alone than I do now.”

He looked up from his phone, looking a bit confused. “Hm?” he hummed curiously. “What’s up?”

“I think I’m going to go away again,” I told him. 

I wasn’t sure where. I’d been staying at Elijah’s compound up along the coast of California since my home had become a humongous pile of ash. They were all welcoming up there, but I was so afraid of letting them all down. I still didn’t really grasp this Gleebnorb stuff. I didn’t really grasp anything. I could figure out anyone inside the ring and overcome them, but when it came to real life, I was constantly fighting an impossible battle.

I just wanted to stop.

Maybe not stop stop like I did however many years ago, but I just needed a Goddamn break. I needed to make the most of the time off from SCW.

“Oh, shit, yeah, you’re right,” Asher quickly blurted out, shoving his phone in his pocket. “We have to go watch to see who we’re beating at Apocalypse! Get revenge against Selena or prove to everyone that Ace was the weak link of our team? Either one sounds fine to me! Let’s get it!”

Asher ran out of the room, not even bothering to look if I was following him or not, just leaving me to stew.

I didn’t really care who I would have to face. I would have loved to knock Selena back down a peg or two after she became the first person to pin me since my return from hiatus, but I kind of owed Ace a beating after he roofied me for some reason. I mean, it didn’t seem malicious, but you don’t just roofie a man and get away with it without at least having a wrestling match.

But, really, I just couldn’t care at the time. I needed to leave. I needed to get away.

So, I did. I got up, grabbed my shit, and left without bothering to say goodbye to anyone, or even change. The cab that I hailed didn’t seem to mind that I was shirtless, sweaty, and wearing sparkly pants. It was Los Angeles. They probably thought I had just come straight from the stage. I guess I did.

I remember getting a text from Asher on the way back to the hotel. Feeling the vibration and seeing his name briefly made me reconsider getting away from it all, but then I saw his message.

Dude, have you seen my ring? I can’t find my ring. Did you lift it off me? If you’re that hard up for money, you could just ask me for a loan. I don’t mind, bro. I’m rolling in it right now.

I shook my head and went to put my phone away, but before I could even release my grip, it vibrated again.

Nevermind, I found it. Some arena worker that I fingered earlier had it. LA girls are so easy.

I sighed and put the phone away. I could hear it buzzing again. I wondered if I should even bother looking. Against my better judgement, I did bother.

She found it lodged in her vagina.

I got back to the hotel and immediately went about searching for a place to escape to. I think it was time to be alone once again.