Post by Josh Kennedy on Aug 10, 2017 5:23:03 GMT
Stage One - Shock, or Holy Fucking Shit 40,000 (feat. Izzy Roxx and Teagan Quinn):
July 5th, 2017
Off-Camera
“That there, that’s not me… I’m not here, this isn’t happening.” – Radiohead (“How To Disappear Completely”)
"Dude. You’re so dead.” The girl says.
She didn’t say it to hurt him. She didn’t even say it to mock him. It was nothing more than a statement. Dry, matter-of-fact, and - in her mind at least - absolutely undeniable. Josh Kennedy said nothing, continuing to stare at the screen as it spelled out the name of the person who had just been touted as his harbinger of doom: Artemis Kaiser.
The girl meanwhile, a teenager with dyed black hair, a streak of neon blue running through it seems fairly nonplussed. In fact, she looks more intrigued by the red lollipop she had pulled out of her mouth to casually make her statement. In recent months, Josh had become something of an older brother figure to the young girl. Isabelle Collingwood, as she despised being called, better known by her stage name, Izzy Roxx.
“Holy fuckin’ shit… No way.” He proclaimed eventually, leaning back into his seat.
She popped her lollipop back into her mouth and cocked her head to one side, studying the screen.
“Actually, I dunno. Maybe if you train hard, say your prayers and eat your vitamins…” She halts as he cast her a hopeful look, allowing a moment of silence to linger between them. Then, she laughs.
“Oh my GOSH! You actually BOUGHT that! You thought I was SERIOUS!”
Izzy begins to make her way down the hallway, hooting with laughter.
“Hey guys...Josh thought he stood a chance against Artemis Kaiser!”
Laughter from an adjacent room met this remark, a moment before the speaker herself took a sharp ninety-degree turn and disappeared through the doorway. A moment later, it slammed shut, muffling the sound of youthful giggling still emanating from beyond it.
“I, uh… nah, of course not.” Josh lies, poorly, his face reddening with embarrassment.
He glances at the name again, the reality of its implications still not fully setting in.
“Yeah, I’m totally screwed, ain’t I?” He asks.
The door to the next room opened again, and Izzy stepped out, appearing alongside another girl, her closest friend and bandmate, Teagan Quinn. Teagan sports bright red hair, and a look on her face like a shark smelling blood in the water. A chubby, awkward boy follows gingerly behind.
“Screwed?” The shorter of the two girls chuckles again.
“A nail is ‘screwed’. You’re deader than Seth’s Tinder inbox!”
“HEY!” The boy responds, flustered, causing the two girls to break into a fit of giggles.
“I get DMs,” he said, turning to the older man. “I get a BUNCH of DMs!”
“Yeah...from CATFISH!” The girls start giggling again, but Josh is no longer listening.
Still struggling to process exactly what was in front of him, Josh only really knew two things for certain. One - he’d just been given the biggest opportunity of his life. Two - He didn’t stand a chance. Completely tuned out, he looked around blankly until the girls’ laughter brought him back to the moment.
“Dude looks like he’s seen a ghost…” The redheaded girl observes. She was right, he looked incredibly pale.
Josh tries to laugh it off flippantly.
“Oh, y’know, I’m just a little… I wasn’t expectin’ this.” He deflects poorly.
“Dude. I wasn’t ‘expecting’ an A in Algebra. Getting Artemis is more of a ‘why the heck did this have to happen to me?’ situation.” Izzy spoke.
“You got an A in Algebra?” Teagan laughed. “Dude, you’re such a nerd!”
“Am NOT,” the shorter girl snapped.
“I mean, you kinda are.” Josh weighs in, distantly.
“Shut up, JOSHUA!”
“Hey, if I’m dead come August, I can say whatever the hell I want.” Josh says with a shrug.
“Oh yeah? Well you can forget about me making you a banner now! In fact, I’m gonna be singing ARTY’S GONNA KILL YOU just like everyone else!” The girl glares at Josh, her feelings apparently hurt in earnest.
“Go right on ahead, ain’t gonna change the outcome either way.” Josh replies, a hint of despondency in his voice.
“Okay, then. I will!”
With that, Izzy spins around on her heels, her shoulders hunched with anger.
“C’mon, guys,” she snaps, as she makes her way back into her hotel bedroom.
“This scene’s kinda DEAD.”
With that, she slams the door, leaving Josh alone with his fate.
Josh continues to stare at the words on his computer screen, one less person in his corner already. But he couldn’t think of anything else but the immensity of the challenge he knew was ahead of him. He had to prepare for Artemis Kaiser, the match he’d always wanted, but never once thought he’d actually have.
Stage Two - Denial, or Shut Up and Drink (feat. Cass Baumer):
9th July 2017
Off-Camera
“If something is catching in my throat, just at the edges of these moments; it must be this, and not whatever I tell myself it is” – Have A Nice Life (“Sisyphus”)
Josh’s eyes are locked on the television screen as he intently watches the match he has lined up. His notebook rests at his side, pen in hand, scrawling down notes as he observes. Rewinding and going over each moment in fine, obsessive detail. His notes are equally disorganized, and unnecessarily detailed. He’s written down potential counters to Artemis’ moves, the weapons she tends to gravitate towards and the kinds of swings she appears to favor, and attempted to look for details even Artemis herself may not have noticed about her in-ring work, the small subconscious choices she makes. Really, even Josh doesn’t fully understand why he does this to this level of incredibly particular, obsessive detail. There’s a point at which research stops being helpful, and the twelve pages of notes he was attempting to expand upon even further were probably well past that limit. But Josh is obsessed with doing as best he could, he always had been, and this strange, unhealthy ritual helps him ease the many anxieties he had about performing. He continues flicking his eyes across his notes and the screen, attempting to catch something, anything new, pen poised just over the page.
Just then, Josh’s phone rings, interrupting his concentration.
“For fuck’s…” He begins with an exasperated sigh, before looking at the screen, his frustration melting away in an instant.
“Yo.” He answers.
“Asshole,” Cass Baumer begins the call nonchalantly, kidding around. “You busy right now? I’m not interrupting anything important?”
Josh looks at the TV again for a moment. He’d been looking over footage all day, and there was only so far his obsessive research could get him without driving him insane. He grabs the remote and turns it off. He could do with the break, that much was for certain.
“Nah, not anymore.” He answers.
“I just wanted to say thanks for the other night,” Cass begins, as sincerely as she can.
“I was really on edge with everything going on with Gabe and all them but you just popped into my DMs to see what was wrong. It was nice, y’know? Not everyone would’ve done that.”
“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t seem yourself, something was bothering you. That’s what friends are there for, ain’t it? Help each other out and all that sentimental shit?”
“Probably. I mostly just end up accidently burning those bridges down so I wouldn’t know,” she jokes, poking fun at herself.
“I’m too stubborn to let you get rid of me that easily.” Josh chuckles.
“Hah. I’ll hold you to that,” she teased. “Did you wanna hang out or something tonight? Maybe head to the local bar?”
“Gonna try and put my patience to the test, huh? Yeah, sure. Actually, me and my buddies have just acquired a bar of our own, wanna check it out?”
“Should I bring money?”
“Free bar for as long as nobody catches us.” He jokes.
“We’ll be like drunk ninjas!”
“You already tried that on the 4th, remember?”
Cass bursts out in laughter.
“No, seriously. Should I pay? I’m not exactly rolling in dough right now sooo…”
“Nah, you’re good, cheapskate.” he ribs, “Really, I don’t think anybody’s gonna be there, so it’s a free bar.”
“That’s my favorite kind of bar, you know that?”
“I think that’s everyone’s, so I ain’t surprised.”
“So you want me to pick you up or did you wanna meet up at the bar?” Cass responded after another laugh.
“Hey, as long as you ain’t expecting a limo or a fancy car I can give you a ride.”
“You drive a tricycle, don’t you?”
“Unicycle, actually. C’mon, I thought your anonymous sources would get that right.”
“I guess I must’ve missed that submission! Damn,” Cass chuckled again. “Nah but it’s fine. Whatever you’re driving is cool by me. I’m not really the superficial type… So I can expect to see you on your unicycle in how long?”
“Let’s say an hour, yeah? Traffic in the unicycle lanes can get pretty crazy.”
“Oh, I can imagine,” Cass smirked. “You hear about that 50 unicycle pile up the other day? Must have made it so much harder for you!”
Josh laughs loudly.
“Oh, god, you can’t even imagine.”
“I’ll see you in an hour, dude. Drive safe.”
“What? No unicycle?! You disappoint me,” Cass greeted loudly as she approached the small, humble Volkswagen from the front door, eyeing Josh the whole way down the lawn.
“It’s in the shop, needed a tune-up.”
He opens the door for her, and beckons her into the passenger seat.
“Your chariot awaits, madam.” He says, in a terrible approximation of an English accent.
As Cass shoots Josh a look and raises her eyebrows, Josh shrugs it off.
“I mean, I know you said you weren’t the superficial type and all…”
“So you think I’m into chariots?” she laughs, getting into the passenger seat with a shrug.
“Nah, just figured I could throw in a little flourish. You laughed, I think that means I win.”
“Fine. You win, okay! I admit it,” she shut the passenger door as soon as Josh moved out of the way. “Just don’t get used to it.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I’ll make sure to send you the Smartass Championship in the mail.”
“I’ve been after two belts at once for a while, hasn’t happened yet, I’ll take that as a victory.”
With a smirk, Cass buckled her seatbelt and made sure the door was locked.
“Hey, ain’t nobody wanting to steal this rustbucket.”
“I don’t know how you drive! I don’t wanna die today, alright? You never know.”
“Usually I use the pedals and the steering wheel, I dunno about you…” He said, slowly starting to pull the car away.
With a straight face, Cass responded. “I really hate you right now.”
“Shame you locked the door then, ‘cause we’re moving. Guess that means you’re stuck with me.”
“I could open the window and shout ‘I’m being kidnapped! Help!’”
“Never been part of a police chase before, go ahead.” He teases, calling her bluff.
Cass couldn’t help but laugh again.
“How do you manage to always make me laugh though? Hypnotism? Sorcery? What’s your secret?”
“Ever heard the phrase ‘a magician never reveals his secrets’? Let’s go with that.”
“Alright, Harry Potter... Let’s go get drunk as fuck!”
“I think I can handle that.”
“So what have you been up to, anyway? Bet you live the busy life, huh?” Cass asks after some time of driving.
“Training my ass off. Two title matches and a supershow all in the space of a month means I’ve got a lot goin’ on. I’m happy though, it’s good. I love doing this.” Josh deflects, his answer coming across a little defensive, as though he’s trying to convince himself almost as much as he is Cass.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Cass tilted her head, hearing some doubt in the way Josh spoke. As an ex-journalist, Cassandra’s observation skills were better than most.
“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s fine.” He lies.
“People don’t usually repeat the same thing twice when they’re telling the truth, Josh.” Josh knows he’s being totally transparent, but doesn’t really care all that much.
“What’s there to say?” “I don’t know. Just because I can notice details other people might miss doesn’t mean I’m a mind reader. You’re gonna have to tell me.”
“Nah, not really. I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll figure it out.” He insists, once again attempting to push the subject away.
“You know on Friday when something was bothering me and you helped me out? You said I could go to you whenever something was bothering me, yeah? It works both ways. So if something’s on your mind, you might as well spill it, right? Might make you feel better.”
“Look, I don’t wanna talk about it, alright? Let’s just hit the bar and get drunk off our asses. I just wanna have a good time right now, that’s it. Can we please just put a pin in it, at least for now?”
“Fine. Okay. Just remember I’ve got your back, okay?” Cass spoke genuinely before continuing in a snarky tone. “No matter what the rumors say.”
“Appreciate it.”
The second part catches Josh’s attention, and he raises an eyebrow.
“What rumors?”
“You don’t wanna know…”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll report ‘em soon enough, guess I’ll just wait to find out.”
“Until then… Is it booze o’clock yet?”
Josh looks down the road and indicates towards the bar just a little further down.
“More or less.” He says, as he slows down to pull up outside.
‘Shut Up and Drink’, as the painted sign outside so clearly labelled the bar wasn’t exactly a whole lot to look at. Not that it needed to be, the classic dive bar exterior consisted primarily of a worn, dark oak. Despite its rough appearance, it looked fairly inviting, the warm glow of the internal lights beaming across the street, the walls on the inside chaotically plastered with cuttings of artwork, photographs and graffiti. Through the windows a few small wooden tables with accompanying chairs could be seen, as well as the two pool tables. Although not yet open for the general public, Josh produced a small silver-colored key from his pocket and used it to open the door.
“The perks of having friends in low places, huh?” He grins as he swings the door open and waits for his guest to enter ahead of him.
“You’ve got your own bar? How’d you pull this one off?” Cass explored the interior with her eyes, running her fingers along the top of the long bar as she looked at the artwork on the wall.
“My buddy Johnny bought it, technically, got it for the group. A HQ, of sorts, place to unwind after Slaughterhouse shows. Think this is gonna be a new haunt of ours.”
“So it’s a Filth Parade thing,” she nodded, standing in front of the wall covered in photographs, looking at the images with an observant eye.
“Sure is. Got our names all over it. Literally.” He says, pointing to the part of the wall where all five of the group had scrawled their names. Rebel Manson, Silas Subhuman, Johnny Vachon, and Eddy Poe. It was clear to see that two gaps had been left for some names that had yet to grace the bar with their presence, too.
“So if this is Filth Parade territory... What does that make me then?” Cass asked inquisitively with a smirk.
“I guess that’s up to you. We tend to call our friends ‘Filth by Association’.”
Cass just rolled her eyes.
“Of cooourse you do,” she laughed, glancing at the giant ‘Shut Up and Drink’ logo mounted on the back wall.
“You know, with the right marketing, this place could end up giving you guys a whole lotta money in your pockets. Wouldn’t be too hard either. You can practically advertise anything on social media and get a profit.”
“Never said it was anythin’ earth-shatterin’, what’s the harm in a cheesy pun?”
Josh nods at Cass’ observations.
“We might consider it. Might not. I kinda wanna see if I can get in on this as a part owner, got some ideas, but ultimately it’s Johnny’s place, and I gotta respect that. We’ve not really discussed it yet, new venture and all.”
“I gotcha. It’s totally understandable. Just keep it in mind, yeah? That’s all I’m saying,” she nodded, eyeing a nearby pool table.
“No doubt, we ain’t gonna turn away a few extra bucks if we can do it with dignity.” Josh agrees, heading behind the bar.
“What’s your poison?”
“Got any whiskey?” Cass asked casually.
“Duh.” Josh responds, pulling out several bottles and inspecting them.
“Any preferences?” He adds.
She points to the Jack Daniel’s. Josh nods and promptly begins pouring into two glasses, sliding one further down the surface of the bar for Cass to receive.
“Hey. Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?” Cass asked after taking a swig.
“You still seem pretty tense to me. And you were acting awfully defensive in the car.”
“I’m always tense, that’s just how I am, ain’t nothing botherin’ me right now.” He answers, taking a sip of the whiskey, “Gettin’ to have a few drinks in my new bar with a good friend? I couldn’t ask for more.”
Again, deflection.
“We’re gonna end up getting hammered again just like the 4th of July, aren’t we?” Cass chuckled.
“That’s gotta be a rhetorical question, yeah?”
“I figured the answer was a resounding ‘fuck yeah’ but…”
“There’s a reason we got a logo that says ‘shut up and drink’, Cass.”
“It was the cheapest sign they had?”
Josh laughs.
“Something like that, yeah.”
“See? You’re already sounding a lot better! Enjoy yourself,” she nodded, taking another sip of her whiskey.
“Easier said than done some days. Not gonna take long before I’m all straightened out at this rate though, don’t worry about that.”
“So I suppose you’re a bartender tonight, huh? So I should talk to you about all my problems?”
“I mean, I’m not gonna say you can’t.”
“So, this morning… I stubbed my toe on the kitchen table. Hurt like hell.”
“Hey, as long as you’re still walking, that ain’t my problem. I’m not a doctor. Want me to check your reflexes too?”
“I’ve got the reflexes of a cat… a blind cat with awful reflexes,” she told him, exaggerating and poking fun at herself.
“Oh yeah, heard that helps a lot with this whole wrestling thing we do.”
“I’ve just sorta been punching blindly until something good happens,” she lies, continuing to suggest she was an awful wrestler.
“Don’t let the public know that. Gotta pretend you know what you’re doing.” Josh teased.
“Oh, they’ll never know,” Cass chuckles. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Maybe we oughta switch places and I should be the bartender now? Then you can tell me all your problems.”
“I think you need some kinda degree before you start tryna pick at my brain.”
“I got a journalism degree. That’s pretty much all about picking people’s brains for information! Shouldn’t that count?”
“Not quite the type I had in mind, but I can tell you ain’t gonna let this go.”
“You know me too well,” she smirks, taking another swig. “Just a little reminder: What’s said between you and me doesn’t read the public - no matter what. So feel free to spill those beans.”
“Look, it ain’t that I don’t trust you. Believe me, I do. I just wanna have a good time, and right now, digging through all this shit ain’t my idea of a good time, so just, please let it go, yeah?”
“Alright. Okay. I’m sorry. I was just trying to help but I’ll ease back. The last thing I wanna do is overstep my boundaries with you,” Cass responded sincerely, looking down at the legs of the stool beneath her.
“Thank you. I appreciate that. Maybe we can talk about this all again later, but right now, I’m just not ready to dredge all of that up.”
“Fair enough,” Cass nodded. “Hey, you remember those fireworks back on the 4th?”
“Not as well as I should, probably…”
“Hah. Maybe we should do it again sometime. Preferably when we’re both sober so we can remember, yeah? Could be nice.”
“Hmm, guess I don’t see a reason not to. Still got a few left over from last time and all, we can figure something out.” Josh agrees with a smile.
“Just make sure you don’t come close to losing your hand this time, okay? I’m not really how wrestling would work like that.”
“Did that happen last time? I don’t even remember.” Josh says with a shocked laugh.
“Yeah! I tried to warn you but your dumbass decided it’d be a good idea to stay two feet away when the fireworks went off.”
“Well, I’m alive. And mostly unburned, so I guess that’s all ok.”
“Mostly unburned?” Cass’ eyebrows raised. She was mostly just kidding but that caught her off guard.
“Well, yeah…” Josh says, upturning his arm, revealing a small, circular patch of irregularly colored skin just at the center of the wrist. An obvious cigarette burn. During one of his matches on the independent circuit, some opponent had walked out with a lit cigarette and decided to put it out on the most tender part of Josh’s arm.
“Yeah, you don’t get through all these deathmatches without a few burns, y’know. Hell, Johnny just branded my chest; it’s pretty awesome. Wanna see?”
Cass just looks at Josh like he was crazy.
“... Did he mistake you for a cow?”
“Something tells me you haven’t really watched much of Slaughterhouse, we’re all fuckin’ nuts over there. Again, this is one of my closest friends we’re talkin’ about here. His name’s right on that wall.”
She glanced to see that Josh was telling the truth. Scribbled right under Josh’s name was Johnny’s signature.
“Are you sure you guys aren’t literally batshit insane?” She said it jokingly, smirking at him.
“Actually, I’m pretty sure we are. Hey, at least we’re self-aware.”
Cass laughed.
“Just… Don’t hurt yourself too bad, alright? I don’t want you to come back here as just a skeleton one day. Well, more of a skeleton,” she smiled, gently poking fun at how thin Josh was.
“I’ll try. No promises.” He chuckles at the subtle dig.
“You develop bad habits when you can’t afford to eat most days.”
“You know I can loan you a little bit of money if that’s the issue, yeah?”
“That ain’t been the issue for years, thanks for the offer, but that’s the last thing you gotta worry about with me right now. Bad habits die hard, as they say. Food and I got a… weird relationship now.”
Cass nods.
“Let’s just hope you don’t die with ‘em, alright?”
“Well, that sure ain’t the plan.”
Smiling, she dragged her hand along the bar and moved back to her whiskey, taking a big swig of the warm alcohol.
“I know you said you didn’t wanna talk about it but…” Her eyes looked down at her drink and then flickered towards Josh again. “You gonna be alright against Artemis? You don’t plan on dying there either, yeah?”
Josh sighs and takes a huge gulp of his whiskey, almost draining most of what was left in the glass.
“I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk about it, alright?!” He snaps.
“You’re gonna do great, dude. There’s no reason to be defensive. Just because this Artemis used marketing and shit to advertise herself as this unbeatable monster doesn’t mean it’s true, yeah? You’re overreacting. You’re—” Josh interrupts her.
“Nah, that ain’t marketing, that ain’t a front. That’s really her, Cass. You got no fuckin’ idea if that’s what you think. My biggest fans don’t believe in me. Hell, most of my friends don’t think I stand a chance. That’s for real, and the only reason for it is because they know what she’s capable of.”
“You wanna believe that bullshit? Fine. You’re gonna have to face the facts eventually and see you’re gonna be alright. All this stressing? That’s what’s really going to be the death of you.”
“I wouldn’t be stressin’ at all if we could just have a nice time like I came out here for. I told you I didn’t wanna dredge this shit up right now. Look, I’m sorry if I’m bein’ an asshole, but this really ain’t what I wanna do.”
“Okay… Okay, it’s fine. I overstepped my boundaries. I was trying to help and I went too far,” Cass admitted softly, taking the final sip of her whiskey.
“I know you mean well, I know you’re just concerned, and I appreciate that, really, I do. But this is my own battle to fight, y’know? It’s all internal. No matter how much you try, I gotta deal with this on my own. You get that, right?”
“Yeah, I get that. I completely understand,” she nodded, thinking for a moment. “How about we have a toast instead? To not getting our limbs blown off on the 4th of July!”
Cass raised her glass. Josh smiles, goofy as it was, it had broken the tension that was there just moments ago.
“Ain’t no harm in that I suppose. And to hopefully keeping all my limbs after the show in August.” He replies, clicking his glass with her own.
“Cheers!” Cass laughs, sitting back down at the barstool.
Josh goes back behind the bar, the last sip from the toast having drained the last of his drink.
“How about another?” He suggests, grinning.
“Hit me!”
Stage Three - Anger, or No One Is Untouchable:
17th July 2017
On-Camera
“Dare you look into the abyss, confront what you received? There’s a vile fury within us, despite what you’ve been fed.” – Iceage (“Everything Drifts”)
“Shit. Fuck.”
These words come loudly, spat with venom, as the cameras open on Josh Kennedy. He looks haggard, his beard scruffy and uneven, his long, messy hair obscuring his face. He’s pacing restlessly, his trainers clicking across the ground with each step, leaving behind a resounding echo.
“I’m fuckin’ sick of this shit already, man. All this doubt, all these questions. Nobody believes in me, do they? Has everyone forgotten what I’m capable of? For fuck’s sake, I’ve been torn apart by meat hooks, fought off a fuckin’ alligator, ripped to shreds by barbed wire, been branded by one of my closest friends… I’ve put away legends and young guns alike. I almost won Redemption’s New Generation Championship on my second show with the company. I’m better than this. I’ve done some of the most violent, crazy shit imaginable, put my mind and body on the line every single night for seven years straight, and this is how I’m repaid, huh? So much for gratitude…”
His voice, usually garbled and thick comes out clear and sharp, the edge to his tone clearly communicating his frustration.
“I mean, shit, it’s not like I started doin’ this outta some desire to be famous or some shit, I did this to survive. I did this to get a roof over my head and maybe afford to eat every couple days. I didn’t have lofty expectations for myself. I never thought I’d be beating my childhood heroes to bloody pulps because they got me arrested, I never thought I’d take down legends I grew up watchin’. I never thought I’d be a world champion at any point in my life. I thought I’d die in the ring in my early 30’s in front of a crowd of a couple people in a dive bar somewhere in the Midwest and nobody would give a shit. Hell, I guess that could still happen at this rate, huh? I got my ass suspended from Redemption for losing my cool. This fire in me came out when I didn’t mean it to. If that’s the price, then so be it. What the fuck ever. Sometimes I can’t handle the shit rattlin’ around in this skull of mine. I could blame it on any number of things, I could play victim to my bipolar disorder, the fact that I’m off meds is easily fuckin’ me up. But god, goin’ back on that lithium again? Nah, I’d rather die. That shit left me a husk, a shell of a man, I can’t do that to myself again. If I just gotta own my shit, so be it, I’ll carry that motherfuckin’ weight to the grave.”
He laughs, bitterly.
“Of course, that ain’t gonna be too much longer at this rate, is it? ‘Cause, yeah, I’m a dead man walkin’. There’s no way of reconcilin’ or denyin’ that fact. Apparently, anyways. And y’know what I say? Fuck that. I can do this. I can set the whole fuckin’ world on fire if I want to. Nobody’s invincible, not even your precious fuckin’ Artemis Kaiser. I’m gonna put her away or die trying, ‘cause right now, I don’t give a fuck. There ain’t nothing I won’t do to her, or myself in that arena. No line I won’t cross, no limit I won’t push myself past to get this done off my own back. And the fact that even after all these years, people still don’t see that, almost makes me question if anyone’s even been watchin’, if anyone really gave a shit long enough to see past their own noses. I mean, really, when your opponent’s givin’ you more respect than your friends and fans, you know something’s fucked up.”
Josh pushes the hair out of his face, revealing his bloodshot eyes, veins of red snaking all over the whites of his eyes, and the pronounced dark rings underneath them. His cheeks are sunken, and his complexion is remarkably pale, even by his typical standards.
“I’ll spit in the face of your expectations. I will make your jaws drop off the bottom of your motherfuckin’ skulls and hit the floor. This isn’t gonna be just another Street Fight. This will be the most brutal shit you’ll ever bear witness to. And any motherfucker out there who still doubts me after this can keep their head up their ass; I don’t need y’all anyway. And Artemis? Invincible, legendary Artemis… You’d better grind my bones to dust in that ring, ‘cause that’s all you can do to make me stop fighting.”
With his rant unceremoniously over, Josh holds his head in his hands, as though in agony, breathing sharply.
“…Fuck.” He grunts, through gritted teeth. A little more incoherent murmuring happens before the footage stops abruptly.
Stage Four - Bargaining, or The Bitter End:
18th July 2017
Off-Camera
“The pain comes deep. Fuck the pain right back.” – Full of Hell (“The White Mare”)
Josh’s fist connects hard with the hanging bag, the impact resounding across the empty gym. The sweat he’s drenched in leaves a light sting on the surface of his skin. His entire body is in agony, screaming out for a respite he refuses to give himself. He tells himself he has to push harder, drive himself further forwards. That it’s the only way he’ll succeed. This isn’t new; of course, Josh’s obsession has driven him to this consistently. But each punch he throws carries a viciousness unlike anything he’s used outside of the ring. Josh grimaces, the pain’s noticeable, but he doesn’t stop throwing his fist at that bag like his life depends on it. He hasn’t given himself a break since he arrived in the gym almost three hours ago. His water bottle had long-since run empty, but he hasn’t bothered to stop to fill it up again. Fatigue, pain and dehydration plague him all at once, as the storm rages on in his brain.
In this moment, this is all that matters. This is life or death. If he gives up, if he stops for even a second, he’s failed. Ever since Josh had started wrestling professionally, he’d had distant dreams of success, successes he’d now long since passed. He’d scraped his way up from nothing to become a beloved star during his genesis in Japan’s brutal deathmatch circuit, clawed for every inch of success he’d ever had. He’d become an indie darling, and then, slowly but surely, a global star. It had been a long road. It took him a year and a half of grinding to become the midcard champion that drew all eyes to UWF’s hardcore wrestling division, he’d worked his fingers to the bone to elevate the title, and himself along with it. The same obsessive, unhealthy exertion that underpinned almost everything he set himself upon, like a rabid dog with a bone. But it was that very attitude that had brought him everything. It was that that had made him a world heavyweight champion, it was that that had made him a trios champion at this very moment, with a group that he’d built from the ground up.
And now that he’d surpassed every expectation for himself, he’d found himself with no more goals left to achieve. He had hardly expected a fraction of the following and successes he’d already had, all he had left was one final, ever-present goal. Permanent greatness. Josh wanted to die a legend. Regardless of however and whenever that happened, it was the only thing that continued his explosive passion for wrestling. He thrived on every bead of sweat he exerted in this pursuit, every drop of blood he spilled, be it his own or somebody else’s. The furious punches keep flying as he shuts out every signal his brain’s sending him, telling him to stop. In his mind, the moment he stops, he’s failed, and he can’t allow that to happen. So he continues on, punch after punch stubbornly fighting through the pain as best he can, even as his swings become pathetic, anaemic imitations of what they were just a few minutes ago. Still, he keeps throwing the strikes.
BAM
Josh sighs; he knows he can’t keep this up much longer.
BAM
He tells himself to keep going, to not stop for anything.
BAM
If he keeps pushing, maybe he can do what he’s promised himself. Maybe he can achieve greatness. Maybe he can beat Artemis Kaiser. Maybe he can be the King of Deathmatch Champion that Slaughterhouse deserves.
BAM
His vision blurs.
BAM
Nothing.
When Josh eventually comes to, it takes him quite some time to realise exactly what he’d done to himself. A preview of the bitter end his story’s inevitably heading towards. A fact Josh has been well aware of for the longest time, but never truly confronted. He stares at the ceiling of the gym as he lay on the cold, unforgiving floor, processing it all. Slowly, cautiously he sits up. His mouth is dry, his lips are chapped, and he still aches all over.
He stays like this for quite some time, assessing himself. The weight of what just happened isn’t lost on him, but the shock of it makes it difficult for Josh to think straight. Gradually, weakly, he hauls himself to his feet and moves for the water cooler. He takes one of the small plastic cups and fills it, downing the cool, refreshing liquid in a single gulp and instantly feels some energy returning. But his thirst isn’t quenched. He does this over and over again, gulping down as much water as he can stomach before pouring the final cup over his own head. Discarding the plastic receptacle, Josh moves for his belongings, taking them from their place by the unpainted surface of one of the walls, slinging the strap of his gym bag over his shoulder. He reaches into the bag, producing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, places them in his pocket, and heads for the door.
Stage Five - Depression, or In All Of My Dreams, I’m Drowning:
19th July 2017
Off-Camera
“An untimely shell of all that I am, nothing to comfort me, no one will come for me.” – Code Orange Kids (“Embrace Me”)
Depression's oppressive haze was more than familiar to Josh. It hung heavy over his head rather often. The other side of his bipolar disorder had allowed him to get incredibly familiar with it, it embraced him like an old friend in a way, and he almost welcomed it. He wasn't emotionally equipped to deal with many of the feelings he'd been experiencing of late, that much was evident to anybody who'd spent any time around him in these past few weeks. But he knew this part well, and rightfully feared that it wouldn't be so easy to shake. Each new step forwards he'd taken had felt like progression of some kind. Progression along a downwards spiral, perhaps, but still progression nonetheless. This felt like a regression, one into an old familiar area he didn't want to tread. He'd been in a manic state for the past month and a half at least, having shaken his depression. And despite the hyperactivity of this state, at least he felt like he could direct that energy into something productive, at least he felt somewhat happy. As happy as Josh could ever allow himself to be, that is. If his bipolar disorder slipped back into the permanent grip of his momentary depression, he didn't know if how much fight he'd have left to haul himself out. He didn't know if he could. Back to back title matches over the past few weeks, his suspension from Redemption Wrestling, and the death of his friend Adrian Tanner Jr. had all washed over him like a ton of bricks at once. Even his successes had felt hollow in the face of all of that. To put it simply, Josh was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. For the first time in a while, Artemis Kaiser was the furthest thing from his mind.
Lying in his bed, eyes bloodshot, staring at the ceiling, Josh’s mind was just as restless as his aching body. The ashes of the joint he’d been smoking to try and ease him into sleep lay in the ashtray on his bedside table. It hasn’t helped one bit. Longing for sleep, he closes his eyes and tries to induce himself into the only dream he’s been able to have for the past month.
It starts in a room. An empty room, completely devoid of colours or features, no doors, no windows, no lights, no paint on the walls. And yet somehow, Josh can see the bare, grey walls as though there were a source of light in the very centre of the room. The featureless chamber then slowly begins to fill with water. It flows slowly, covering his feet, and gradually working its way up to his ankles. All the while, he’s completely aware of what’s happening, just watching as the clear liquid builds its way up. Before long, Josh finds himself floating on the top of the body of water as it continues to swell. The feeling of ascension is unmistakably tangible as he floats upwards on the surface. The pleasant ascending feeling lingers for a long time, until he finds himself a little closer to the ceiling than he’d like. That’s when the realisation starts to occur that there’s no escape, he’s found himself trapped in a tomb. He dives beneath the surface, searching every inch of every wall for some way to get out. The panic sets in promptly after that, giving way to desperation. Josh tries everything he can think of, desperately, repeatedly, as the room fills in completely. Before long, the panic gives way to sorrow, as the inevitability of the situation sets itself firmly in his mind. And as he floats underwater, a gradual calm begins to wash over him. This is all that’s left now...
Josh wakes up with a start, the familiar dream, and the peace it brought promptly slipping away again.
Stage Six - Testing, or I Believe In Your Victory (feat. Mariano Fernandez):
24th July 2017
(Off-Camera)
“The world is a beautiful place, but we had to make it that way.” – The World Is A Beautiful Place And I Am No Longer Afraid To Die (“Getting Sodas”)
After everything he’d been through, Josh was starting a little better of late. A little more at peace. Still on edge, still tense, but better. Better rested, healthier, Josh had actually practiced just a little self-preservation in order to pull himself together somewhat. For one, he's eating daily and on a somewhat regular basis, which was quite the change from the usual. His moment in the gym earlier in the month even had him pacing himself sensibly. And his suspension from Redemption had ended up giving him the space to focus squarely on the immediate brutality of Slaughterhouse, to represent them as their champion as best he could, and get his head straight in the process. His spirits were higher than before, pushing at the edges of what he'd thought himself capable of. He's closing in
The sensory overload of the lights and sounds of the arcade he had just walked into helped distract from the many thoughts still running through his mind. Among the smoke and lights and noise stemming from the myriad arcade machines spread out across the arcade, Josh could see someone approaching him.
“Hey yo. How you doing, mang.”
Josh grinned as he recognised the greeting. The voice unmistakably belonged to Josh’s friend Mariano Fernandez.
“Yo, Manny! I’ve been better, I s’pose, but I’m gettin’ there. It’s something. How about you?” Josh says, truthfully.
“Thankfully, mang - everything’s alright. Life’s a struggle, but it ain’t for someone like me to give up, chico.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Josh chuckles.
“The day you give up, I dunno what kinda world we’re left with.” He adds with a grin.
Mariano takes his hand to his chin, his eyes rolling up, trying to think.
“Well for one, mang - Twitter would have a lot less anime girls and ragefaces, and would be a little more boring. But for the most part the world would stay the same. Life goes on, mang - and that’s something no one should ever forget.”
He looks back to Josh, grinning, then throwing his hands.
“Oh, but there I go, waxing philosophy in an arcade, mang. What kind of world is THAT!? Don’t worry, mang - pick the game, it’s on me.”
“Forgive me for disagreeing, but I can’t help but think a place where even you’d be driven to give up ain’t much of a place at all. I could do with takin’ a few pages outta your book, bruh. Not the anime girls, though.”
Josh quickly scans his way through all the machines, before seeing a familiar one and grinning.
“I think I still owe you a rematch from United We Stand, don’t ya think? My boy Sub-Zero needs some redemption.” He says, pointing to a Mortal Kombat cabinet with a wink.
Manny nods and raises his fist. “Say no more, mang! Let’s go!”
Just a few steps later, both wrestling friends are standing in front of the Mortal Kombat cabinet, Mariano inserting the coins in the slot. The character selection screen comes to life, and honoring Josh’s choice of Sub-Zero, Mariano picks Scorpion accordingly.
Josh fiddles with the controls a little, moving the joystick around, trying to get a feel for it.
“Been a long-ass time since I’ve played on one of these, blast from the past right here.” He observes.
Mariano, for his part, presses the buttons tentatively, doing the same on his side.
“But THIS kind of games, chico, are really worth going back in time for.”
“You ain’t wrong.” Josh says, nodding before looking to the screen as it gets about ready to load the fight, trying to focus.
At that point, the two bitter digital rivals appear on the screen, as the eerie announcing voice comes to life.
*ROUND 1 - FIGHT!*
“Here we go, mang! GET OVER HERE!”
Trying to catch Josh off-guard, Mariano inputs Scorpion’s iconic Spear throw. Manny’s ploy works, as Scorpion’s spear catches Sub-Zero and pulls him in. Josh tries to get his character to jump away, but not before receiving an uppercut. Manny looks at Josh, grinning his traditional trollface.
“PROBLEM, Sub-Zero?”
Manny goes up for a jump forward kick later, but is caught in Sub-Zero’s ice blast. Josh capitalises on this opening by going for Sub-Zero’s sliding kick before looking back at Manny.
“None at all, MANG.” Josh replies, mockingly.
“Well YOU WILL NOW, MANG!” - Manny says in a mocking rage voice, as Scorpion vanishes behind a fire pillar, popping out right behind Sub-Zero in a Tele-Punch. A punch-punch-roundhouse sends Sub-Zero flying across the screen, ending the round with a victory for Scorpion.
“Damn, you’re good. Better step it up, huh?”
“Go for broke, chico, and hold nothing back - because after all, this is....” - Manny screams - “MORTAL KOMBAT!!!”
At this point, a small crowd has gathered behind the two fighters, chants for both sides erupting equally, as well as funny remarks like “BREAK HIS UTERUS, JOSH!” and “SEND HIM BACK TO THE TRAILER PARK, MANNY!”
*ROUND TWO! FIGHT!*
Once again, Mariano attempts the spear throw right off the bat, but this time, Josh manages to get Sub-Zero to duck it just in time.
“Fool me once, bruh…” He teases.
“God DAMNIT, mang! And there was my secret weapon.” - Manny pouts following Josh’s joke. He has no time to recover, though, as after another jump kick, he lands in a puddle created by Josh, Scorpion slipping and floundering comically without any possibility of defense.
“You ain’t the only one who has tricks up their sleeve.”
Josh capitalises on this with a rapid punch combo, followed up with a high kick, which Scorpion manages to block. But blocking isn’t enough, as an uppercut attempt by Scorpion gets caught in by a Sub-Zero low kick, and a follow-up combo ends up with Mariano in the receiving end of a Josh roundhouse, the score even once again.
By this time, the crowd has grown much larger, a portion of it cheering loudly for Josh’s victory, another one starting a “LET’S GO MANNY!” chant.
*ROUND THREE! FIGHT!*
The fight opens with Josh attempting to use Manny’s favorite trick against him, firing off an ice blast immediately. Scorpion jumps over it and Josh looks over at Manny with a shrug.
“Figured it was worth a shot.”
“Shot at DEEZ NUTZ!” - Manny says, finally catching Josh on the jump kick, and going for another Telepunch right as Sub-Zero gets up.
Josh manages to recover, blocking a few punches before landing Sub-Zero’s slide attack to create some space. Scorpion gets up though, and ducks a Sub-Zero jump before catching him in a low sweep kick. A spear throw gets blocked by Josh, and likewise a Sub-Zero ice-blast gets blocked by Manny. Josh goes for the jump, but Manny steps back - finally catching Sub-Zero in the Spear.
“COME HERE!” - Manny yells mimicking Scorpion, before landing an uppercut that drains Sub-Zero’s remaining health bar.
“FINISH HIM!”
Manny shrugs, his trollface grinning again, and Scorpion removes his mask, revealing it to be a skull, carbonizing the hapless Sub-Zero with a fire breath.
“PLAYER 2 WINS.”
“FATALITY.”
The crowd begins clapping, hooting and hollering, as Manny offers Josh a hand.
“Hey yo. Good game, chico.”
Josh narrows his eyes, and the crowd tenses slightly, but he promptly drops the act with a laugh, and shakes Manny’s hand.
“Right back atcha. You kicked my ass almost as hard as fuckin’ Artemis Kaiser’s gonna when she gets her hands on me.” He jokes.
Some of the crowd cheer at the mention of Kaiser, clearly excited for the upcoming match that’s been hanging over Josh’s head like a piano suspended by a piece of string, just waiting to fall from the sky and crush him. At least, that’s how he’d felt for the past month. This internal turmoil was easing up, but still there, he was only just starting to find his footing. He’d been training his ass off, that much was plain to see, but there was still a lot of work left to do before he could feel any sort of confidence.
“Listen mang. I ain’t much of a hockey fan - but there’s this dude that said “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take” - and I agree with that. We never go out there knowing that we can win - but the one way we KNOW we’re always gonna lose is if we give up the fight before it has even started, chico.” - Manny’s usual cheerful demeanor subsides for a moment, his stern gaze indicating that he means what he’s saying.
“Sorry, man, I shouldn’t be talkin’ like this I know that. I’m doin’ everything I can though, I’ve researched all I possibly can, I’ve trained like a man possessed. I’m ready as I’ll ever be, and I can’t hear nothin’ but the sound of doubt. I mean, this is… fuckin’ huge, bigger than any match in my career, y’know? I guess I’m supposed to be confident, but it’s easier said than done.”
“‘Tis only natural to have doubts, chico. No one knows what to expect once the music hits, the lights come on and you find yourself walking that aisle on the way to the ring. Not only that - it’s only natural to be riddled, despite all training and research and overall preparation, with a sense of dread - that gnawing sensation at the back of your brain that ALWAYS warns you about the possibility of losing. But THAT, mang, is where your true confidence must be. It’s not about walking straight up puffing your chest like fear doesn’t exist - it’s about knowing, even so, that you’re walking into a possibility of defeat - of having that fear inside you and trying to drive it away, with every ounce of your body. It’s about staring at danger right in the face - and beckon it to JUST BRING IT.”
“You ain’t wrong. This just… feels different. Like, I’ve been at this whole thing for seven years, I ain’t worried about the jitters, they never leave. This time? Feels like more of an inevitability, like I’m gonna be walking out to my execution. The other people in my life have certainly been treatin’ it like that and all. I’m trying to do what you’re sayin’, really, I am. But it’s… hell, I dunno. I’ve done some crazy shit in my life, I’ve been a part of some of the most insane, bloody deathmatches in the history of this industry, and this seems to overshadow all of it. It’s like all that experience, all that work, all that skill, suddenly don’t count for shit. It’s like I’ve glitched my way into some PvP endgame as a level 1 with nothin’ but starting gear.”
Manny nods, sighing.
“Aye - I know how that feels, mang. I have still a LOT to learn - lots of things I haven’t seen, lots of people I haven’t yet faced. But I know that sensation of walking into a fight I’ve no possibility of winning. But at those times, mang - there’s no time to feel bad. There’s no time to feel fear, or shame, or sorrow. There’s only ONE worry in your head - to get out of there alive - to scratch and claw and BITE, if you must, your way out of that hell - to victory if you can, but to life because you MUST. You don’t know what your chances of survival are, so you fight as if they were zero. You don’t know what you are facing, so you fight as if it was hell itself. You may lose the match and the records might even forget it existed, but your opponent - your opponent will know. Your opponent WILL remember. You will hurt it so badly that it will NEVER forget you until the end of time. When your opponent is dying, its last thought will be of you. That is your memorial - carved into their heart. And it’s at THAT time, mang - when you really feel alive. You can’t lose, chico. You have already won. You may want to take this with a grain of salt though. After all… I’m just someone who plays videogames all the time.” - Mariano chuckles.
“Y’know what? I never really thought about it like that. I guess you’re onto something there. If I’m being told I’m good as dead, what does it matter? I can walk into that arena and shock the whole fuckin’ world with the best goddamn match I’ve ever put on, and there ain’t a damn thing anyone can do to stop me. I mean, I’ve been the underdog my whole life, the skinny white-trash kid who pulled himself outta nothing. Why does this have to be any different? I get to be the one who does something amazing on that show. For Artemis, I’m just another bug to squash, why the fuck can’t I use that? Why do I gotta be so down on my luck? There’s no reason for it. I can do something, if not the actual victory, I can walk away knowing that I did everything I could. I don’t often settle for that, but here? I think it’s the only chance I got. I’ve wanted to give this my all, and if I can’t look at it like that, I can’t make it what I know it can be. Fuck grains of salt, I got nothing else to lose here, and everything to gain. Might as well force myself to make the most of it.” Josh agrees.
Mariano pumps his fist.
“If you’re another bug to squash, mang - make sure your bite brings poison to take down a mammoth.” - He raises a finger as if he just came up with something.
“Speaking of bites though, mang - I’m hungry as all hell. Mortal Kombat DOES get intense.”
Josh nods.
“I’ll try and bring the venom. Mortal Kombat only gets intense when you got a good opponent. Safe to say that’s the case, I reckon. Saw a pizza joint down the road, wanna go there?”
Manny nods one more time.
“Deal, chico.” However, he once again gives a pout.
“BUT NO PINEAPPLE!”
Josh laughs heartily as he heads for the exit.
“No chance, man. No chance.”
Manny follows him.
“I swear I see ONE pineapple in my slice I’m going to fatality them for real, mang.”
With that, both wrestlers and friends walk off into the night, laughing. And for the first time in a while, Josh legitimately feels happy.
Stage Seven - Acceptance, or Today Won’t Go Down In History:
3rd August 2017
(On-Camera)
"Faintly, I'll go. To take this head-on." - Low Roar ("I'll Keep Coming")
The cameras open once again on Josh Kennedy, looking a little healthier than his last on-camera appearance, a little more colour in his pale complexion, the dark bags under his eyes a little less pronounced. The shape he’s in for his incredibly skinny frame stands silent testament to the work he’s put in to prepare. For in this rarest of occasions, Josh’s muscle holds some visible definition. The biggest change, however, is his facial expression. He seems more natural and at ease in front of the camera than he has in a long time. No longer the confused mixture of forlorn, furious and desperate. The typical low, mumbled cadence of his voice now comes soft and warm from his thick Southern accent. His third of the CWC Trios Championships is laid across one shoulder, while his recently acquired Slaughterhouse Wrestling King of Deathmatch Championship is mounted on the other, both proudly displaying their faceplates to the camera.
"I said I'm finally ready, and I meant it. A lot of my social media talk has been bullshit lately, I’ve been putting up a front like I’ve been doin’ ok. Anyone close to me knew I wasn’t. I've been struggling, I've been internalising. In the lead up to this match, I had to deal with a lotta things I wasn't all that well-equipped to do. See, you only truly get a shot at the top once. I ain't the smartest man in the business, but I know that much. 'Cause here's the truth, I've achieved a lot in my career, but it ain't a patch on Artemis Kaiser. That name carries a weight I fear mine never will. For all my obsession, for all the sacrifices I've made for this business, I'll never amount to what she has. At my core, I tell myself I wanna be the best of the best, the top of the wrestling world. And I do, I want that more than anything." Josh sighs and hangs his head.
"But really? We all know that ain't me. I'm never gonna be that guy. I can give my very best until I drop dead, just as I intend on doin', and I'll never amount to the same as some of the names I aspire to be up there with."
He raises his head again, eyes boring straight into the lens of the camera.
"I wanna be humble, I wanna be able to be happy with my lot in life. I've succeeded at a lotta points in my career where I never expected I would, and maybe this'll be another one of 'em. Because I know I got what it takes to beat you in that ring, Artemis. I'm actually pretty confident on that. Not many people seem to believe it, but there's just enough that do to help rid me of the total despondency I was dealin' with. And to those select few people, thank you. Your support means the fuckin' world to me."
"See, that feelin' of inadequacy that eats away at me comes from somethin' deeper: legacy. I've never been afraid to stand out, I may have been afraid to be who I truly am at times, but hopefully the one thing everybody is able to say about me is that I ain't like nobody else. But even with all of that, with everything I've done, I think there's one undeniable, immutable truth I've had to accept in order to be able to do this. By the time my career ends, no matter how that happens, I'll never amount to the same as names like Artemis Kaiser, Brandon Banks, Bronx Valescence, Owen Gonsalves, Mark Storm, Blaise Fader... The list goes on, but we'd be here all fuckin' day if I tried. And y'know what the eventual revelation of all this internal turmoil of mine eventually was? That that's ok. Even though it runs counter to every single instinct in my body and brain, it goes against the very fibers of my being. 'Cause here's the thing: I've been miserable for a long-ass time, and that's on me. I've refused to be happy where I am at any given point because I've always wanted more. And here I am with two prestigious Championships in my grasp still thinking I can't hang just 'cause people are sleeping on me for this one match? I have some amazing friends in my life, I have people that love and support me unconditionally, and I've never really stopped to take true stock of it until now. I've acknowledged it, I've known it to be true, but I've never really carried that around in my own head, if that makes sense. Probably doesn't. It probably shouldn't, really. My way of thinking is delusional and contradictory. It ain’t wrong, per se, but I know it shouldn't make sense to a healthy mind. I should have been grinning from ear to ear for the past two years straight, just happy to be here. But a happy Josh Kennedy ain't interesting, and I've always done my best work when I'm a car crash just waitin' to happen. But really, this is the easy part. Acknowledging all of this is one thing, but making the changes I need to finally be satisfied with what I have? That's what's truly difficult. But I owe it to myself - and to everyone who's ever cared about me for even a second - to achieve that. Instead of draggin' myself through the dirt, I've got to really focus and evolve into the man I hope I can amount to. That’s the only way I can put on a match worthy of the opportunity I’ve been given as a part of this WrestleWar show, the only way I can truly steal the show like I want to. It’s easier said than done, that’s for sure."
Josh smirks confidently, his eyes glinting with anticipation as he brushes away some of the long hairs that have gotten into his face.
"Don't get me twisted here though, not a fuckin' thing has changed. Self-preservation might be something I'm trying to enact outside of the ring in my everyday life, but when those bells ring? You'll still get the bloodiest, most brutal match I can give you. And believe me, I can get more violent than most. I think the fans over at Slaughterhouse can attest to that. I've lost all kinds of blood, I've survived all kinds of mutilation, I worked through a lot of the best athletes not only in deathmatch wrestling, but in wrestling in general, just to make my way to this baby right here." Josh says, patting the King of Deathmatch Championship.
"Ain't she beautiful? See, this is my honor, my resilience, perched right here on my shoulder. The payoff of all my hard work, everything I've survived to get here. To finally be able to say that I'm truly one of the best deathmatch wrestlers in the world."
Josh then slaps his hand against the CWC Trios Championship on his other shoulder.
"And this? This is my loyalty, my pride. My friends in The Filth Parade and I earned these in the face of hardship, we went through a tournament of some of the toughest wrestlers in the game to get here in just three nights. We knocked off the CWC World Champion on our first defense, and as CWC continues to throw the best trios they have our way, we keep standing tall. The Filth Parade is here to stay, a stain you can never get out, and I’m lovin’ every goddamn second of it. After all the rejection, all the failure, I’ve finally built a family of misfits I can call my own. I’ve finally reached a peak I should be able to settle upon, and I’ve still refused. Instead, I’ve looked to the taller mountains further off in the distance and decided that just because I haven’t climbed them yet, I still haven’t done anything worth a damn. I’m gonna try and put a stop to that, ‘cause I know what my life is, and it’s good. It wasn’t for a long time, I’ve known struggle, I’ve known pain, and this ain’t it. Outside of the torture I’ve been putting myself through for reasons even I don’t understand, I’ve had two years of mostly good. To try and actually live up to that is my final challenge, and I’m determined to finally do something about it instead of just throwing myself some pathetic pity party like I did last time I was on camera. Matter of fact, I wanna apologize for a lot of what I said there, I didn’t mean it, and Artemis didn’t deserve a bit of that. She’s gotta know I have nothin’ but respect for her. I just wasn’t equipped to deal with the feelings I was going through, I wasn’t ready to accept the truth that’s been staring me right in the face, even though I’ve been aware of it all this time. Now I’m prepared to do what I’ve gotta do.”
“So Artemis, you had an understanding of what you were up against from the start, but this is really it now. The time’s almost here. let’s make this the best damn match either of us have ever had, huh? I’ll fight to the very last of what I’ve got to give, that’s the only certainty I can promise you. Together, we can make the earth move, make an arena full of people shudder at a display of sheer violence that only we’d be capable of. We can put each other through hell and build each other right back up again. And that’s what I have every intention of doing. Bring your best, ‘cause I don’t wanna be capable of walkin’ away from the show on my own feet. Let’s steal the show, and don’t you dare hold anything back. End me if you have to, but I’m going out on my own terms, I’m doing everything I can to leave this show a legend. One of the only few things worth a damn I said before is that I will stop at nothin’ to win. There ain’t a single damn thing I’m not willing to do to myself or you to win this thing with my own two hands. Whatever happens, I’m goin’ out with a…”
With that, Josh makes his right hand into the shape of a gun, raises it right into the camera, and winks as he pushes his thumb down as though it were the hammer of the imaginary weapon, a tribute to a lost friend.
The shot fades to black, but the audio continues for just a little moment longer.
“…Bang.” He says, flatly.
July 5th, 2017
Off-Camera
“That there, that’s not me… I’m not here, this isn’t happening.” – Radiohead (“How To Disappear Completely”)
"Dude. You’re so dead.” The girl says.
She didn’t say it to hurt him. She didn’t even say it to mock him. It was nothing more than a statement. Dry, matter-of-fact, and - in her mind at least - absolutely undeniable. Josh Kennedy said nothing, continuing to stare at the screen as it spelled out the name of the person who had just been touted as his harbinger of doom: Artemis Kaiser.
The girl meanwhile, a teenager with dyed black hair, a streak of neon blue running through it seems fairly nonplussed. In fact, she looks more intrigued by the red lollipop she had pulled out of her mouth to casually make her statement. In recent months, Josh had become something of an older brother figure to the young girl. Isabelle Collingwood, as she despised being called, better known by her stage name, Izzy Roxx.
“Holy fuckin’ shit… No way.” He proclaimed eventually, leaning back into his seat.
She popped her lollipop back into her mouth and cocked her head to one side, studying the screen.
“Actually, I dunno. Maybe if you train hard, say your prayers and eat your vitamins…” She halts as he cast her a hopeful look, allowing a moment of silence to linger between them. Then, she laughs.
“Oh my GOSH! You actually BOUGHT that! You thought I was SERIOUS!”
Izzy begins to make her way down the hallway, hooting with laughter.
“Hey guys...Josh thought he stood a chance against Artemis Kaiser!”
Laughter from an adjacent room met this remark, a moment before the speaker herself took a sharp ninety-degree turn and disappeared through the doorway. A moment later, it slammed shut, muffling the sound of youthful giggling still emanating from beyond it.
“I, uh… nah, of course not.” Josh lies, poorly, his face reddening with embarrassment.
He glances at the name again, the reality of its implications still not fully setting in.
“Yeah, I’m totally screwed, ain’t I?” He asks.
The door to the next room opened again, and Izzy stepped out, appearing alongside another girl, her closest friend and bandmate, Teagan Quinn. Teagan sports bright red hair, and a look on her face like a shark smelling blood in the water. A chubby, awkward boy follows gingerly behind.
“Screwed?” The shorter of the two girls chuckles again.
“A nail is ‘screwed’. You’re deader than Seth’s Tinder inbox!”
“HEY!” The boy responds, flustered, causing the two girls to break into a fit of giggles.
“I get DMs,” he said, turning to the older man. “I get a BUNCH of DMs!”
“Yeah...from CATFISH!” The girls start giggling again, but Josh is no longer listening.
Still struggling to process exactly what was in front of him, Josh only really knew two things for certain. One - he’d just been given the biggest opportunity of his life. Two - He didn’t stand a chance. Completely tuned out, he looked around blankly until the girls’ laughter brought him back to the moment.
“Dude looks like he’s seen a ghost…” The redheaded girl observes. She was right, he looked incredibly pale.
Josh tries to laugh it off flippantly.
“Oh, y’know, I’m just a little… I wasn’t expectin’ this.” He deflects poorly.
“Dude. I wasn’t ‘expecting’ an A in Algebra. Getting Artemis is more of a ‘why the heck did this have to happen to me?’ situation.” Izzy spoke.
“You got an A in Algebra?” Teagan laughed. “Dude, you’re such a nerd!”
“Am NOT,” the shorter girl snapped.
“I mean, you kinda are.” Josh weighs in, distantly.
“Shut up, JOSHUA!”
“Hey, if I’m dead come August, I can say whatever the hell I want.” Josh says with a shrug.
“Oh yeah? Well you can forget about me making you a banner now! In fact, I’m gonna be singing ARTY’S GONNA KILL YOU just like everyone else!” The girl glares at Josh, her feelings apparently hurt in earnest.
“Go right on ahead, ain’t gonna change the outcome either way.” Josh replies, a hint of despondency in his voice.
“Okay, then. I will!”
With that, Izzy spins around on her heels, her shoulders hunched with anger.
“C’mon, guys,” she snaps, as she makes her way back into her hotel bedroom.
“This scene’s kinda DEAD.”
With that, she slams the door, leaving Josh alone with his fate.
Josh continues to stare at the words on his computer screen, one less person in his corner already. But he couldn’t think of anything else but the immensity of the challenge he knew was ahead of him. He had to prepare for Artemis Kaiser, the match he’d always wanted, but never once thought he’d actually have.
Stage Two - Denial, or Shut Up and Drink (feat. Cass Baumer):
9th July 2017
Off-Camera
“If something is catching in my throat, just at the edges of these moments; it must be this, and not whatever I tell myself it is” – Have A Nice Life (“Sisyphus”)
Josh’s eyes are locked on the television screen as he intently watches the match he has lined up. His notebook rests at his side, pen in hand, scrawling down notes as he observes. Rewinding and going over each moment in fine, obsessive detail. His notes are equally disorganized, and unnecessarily detailed. He’s written down potential counters to Artemis’ moves, the weapons she tends to gravitate towards and the kinds of swings she appears to favor, and attempted to look for details even Artemis herself may not have noticed about her in-ring work, the small subconscious choices she makes. Really, even Josh doesn’t fully understand why he does this to this level of incredibly particular, obsessive detail. There’s a point at which research stops being helpful, and the twelve pages of notes he was attempting to expand upon even further were probably well past that limit. But Josh is obsessed with doing as best he could, he always had been, and this strange, unhealthy ritual helps him ease the many anxieties he had about performing. He continues flicking his eyes across his notes and the screen, attempting to catch something, anything new, pen poised just over the page.
Just then, Josh’s phone rings, interrupting his concentration.
“For fuck’s…” He begins with an exasperated sigh, before looking at the screen, his frustration melting away in an instant.
“Yo.” He answers.
“Asshole,” Cass Baumer begins the call nonchalantly, kidding around. “You busy right now? I’m not interrupting anything important?”
Josh looks at the TV again for a moment. He’d been looking over footage all day, and there was only so far his obsessive research could get him without driving him insane. He grabs the remote and turns it off. He could do with the break, that much was for certain.
“Nah, not anymore.” He answers.
“I just wanted to say thanks for the other night,” Cass begins, as sincerely as she can.
“I was really on edge with everything going on with Gabe and all them but you just popped into my DMs to see what was wrong. It was nice, y’know? Not everyone would’ve done that.”
“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t seem yourself, something was bothering you. That’s what friends are there for, ain’t it? Help each other out and all that sentimental shit?”
“Probably. I mostly just end up accidently burning those bridges down so I wouldn’t know,” she jokes, poking fun at herself.
“I’m too stubborn to let you get rid of me that easily.” Josh chuckles.
“Hah. I’ll hold you to that,” she teased. “Did you wanna hang out or something tonight? Maybe head to the local bar?”
“Gonna try and put my patience to the test, huh? Yeah, sure. Actually, me and my buddies have just acquired a bar of our own, wanna check it out?”
“Should I bring money?”
“Free bar for as long as nobody catches us.” He jokes.
“We’ll be like drunk ninjas!”
“You already tried that on the 4th, remember?”
Cass bursts out in laughter.
“No, seriously. Should I pay? I’m not exactly rolling in dough right now sooo…”
“Nah, you’re good, cheapskate.” he ribs, “Really, I don’t think anybody’s gonna be there, so it’s a free bar.”
“That’s my favorite kind of bar, you know that?”
“I think that’s everyone’s, so I ain’t surprised.”
“So you want me to pick you up or did you wanna meet up at the bar?” Cass responded after another laugh.
“Hey, as long as you ain’t expecting a limo or a fancy car I can give you a ride.”
“You drive a tricycle, don’t you?”
“Unicycle, actually. C’mon, I thought your anonymous sources would get that right.”
“I guess I must’ve missed that submission! Damn,” Cass chuckled again. “Nah but it’s fine. Whatever you’re driving is cool by me. I’m not really the superficial type… So I can expect to see you on your unicycle in how long?”
“Let’s say an hour, yeah? Traffic in the unicycle lanes can get pretty crazy.”
“Oh, I can imagine,” Cass smirked. “You hear about that 50 unicycle pile up the other day? Must have made it so much harder for you!”
Josh laughs loudly.
“Oh, god, you can’t even imagine.”
“I’ll see you in an hour, dude. Drive safe.”
“What? No unicycle?! You disappoint me,” Cass greeted loudly as she approached the small, humble Volkswagen from the front door, eyeing Josh the whole way down the lawn.
“It’s in the shop, needed a tune-up.”
He opens the door for her, and beckons her into the passenger seat.
“Your chariot awaits, madam.” He says, in a terrible approximation of an English accent.
As Cass shoots Josh a look and raises her eyebrows, Josh shrugs it off.
“I mean, I know you said you weren’t the superficial type and all…”
“So you think I’m into chariots?” she laughs, getting into the passenger seat with a shrug.
“Nah, just figured I could throw in a little flourish. You laughed, I think that means I win.”
“Fine. You win, okay! I admit it,” she shut the passenger door as soon as Josh moved out of the way. “Just don’t get used to it.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I’ll make sure to send you the Smartass Championship in the mail.”
“I’ve been after two belts at once for a while, hasn’t happened yet, I’ll take that as a victory.”
With a smirk, Cass buckled her seatbelt and made sure the door was locked.
“Hey, ain’t nobody wanting to steal this rustbucket.”
“I don’t know how you drive! I don’t wanna die today, alright? You never know.”
“Usually I use the pedals and the steering wheel, I dunno about you…” He said, slowly starting to pull the car away.
With a straight face, Cass responded. “I really hate you right now.”
“Shame you locked the door then, ‘cause we’re moving. Guess that means you’re stuck with me.”
“I could open the window and shout ‘I’m being kidnapped! Help!’”
“Never been part of a police chase before, go ahead.” He teases, calling her bluff.
Cass couldn’t help but laugh again.
“How do you manage to always make me laugh though? Hypnotism? Sorcery? What’s your secret?”
“Ever heard the phrase ‘a magician never reveals his secrets’? Let’s go with that.”
“Alright, Harry Potter... Let’s go get drunk as fuck!”
“I think I can handle that.”
“So what have you been up to, anyway? Bet you live the busy life, huh?” Cass asks after some time of driving.
“Training my ass off. Two title matches and a supershow all in the space of a month means I’ve got a lot goin’ on. I’m happy though, it’s good. I love doing this.” Josh deflects, his answer coming across a little defensive, as though he’s trying to convince himself almost as much as he is Cass.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Cass tilted her head, hearing some doubt in the way Josh spoke. As an ex-journalist, Cassandra’s observation skills were better than most.
“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s fine.” He lies.
“People don’t usually repeat the same thing twice when they’re telling the truth, Josh.” Josh knows he’s being totally transparent, but doesn’t really care all that much.
“What’s there to say?” “I don’t know. Just because I can notice details other people might miss doesn’t mean I’m a mind reader. You’re gonna have to tell me.”
“Nah, not really. I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll figure it out.” He insists, once again attempting to push the subject away.
“You know on Friday when something was bothering me and you helped me out? You said I could go to you whenever something was bothering me, yeah? It works both ways. So if something’s on your mind, you might as well spill it, right? Might make you feel better.”
“Look, I don’t wanna talk about it, alright? Let’s just hit the bar and get drunk off our asses. I just wanna have a good time right now, that’s it. Can we please just put a pin in it, at least for now?”
“Fine. Okay. Just remember I’ve got your back, okay?” Cass spoke genuinely before continuing in a snarky tone. “No matter what the rumors say.”
“Appreciate it.”
The second part catches Josh’s attention, and he raises an eyebrow.
“What rumors?”
“You don’t wanna know…”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll report ‘em soon enough, guess I’ll just wait to find out.”
“Until then… Is it booze o’clock yet?”
Josh looks down the road and indicates towards the bar just a little further down.
“More or less.” He says, as he slows down to pull up outside.
‘Shut Up and Drink’, as the painted sign outside so clearly labelled the bar wasn’t exactly a whole lot to look at. Not that it needed to be, the classic dive bar exterior consisted primarily of a worn, dark oak. Despite its rough appearance, it looked fairly inviting, the warm glow of the internal lights beaming across the street, the walls on the inside chaotically plastered with cuttings of artwork, photographs and graffiti. Through the windows a few small wooden tables with accompanying chairs could be seen, as well as the two pool tables. Although not yet open for the general public, Josh produced a small silver-colored key from his pocket and used it to open the door.
“The perks of having friends in low places, huh?” He grins as he swings the door open and waits for his guest to enter ahead of him.
“You’ve got your own bar? How’d you pull this one off?” Cass explored the interior with her eyes, running her fingers along the top of the long bar as she looked at the artwork on the wall.
“My buddy Johnny bought it, technically, got it for the group. A HQ, of sorts, place to unwind after Slaughterhouse shows. Think this is gonna be a new haunt of ours.”
“So it’s a Filth Parade thing,” she nodded, standing in front of the wall covered in photographs, looking at the images with an observant eye.
“Sure is. Got our names all over it. Literally.” He says, pointing to the part of the wall where all five of the group had scrawled their names. Rebel Manson, Silas Subhuman, Johnny Vachon, and Eddy Poe. It was clear to see that two gaps had been left for some names that had yet to grace the bar with their presence, too.
“So if this is Filth Parade territory... What does that make me then?” Cass asked inquisitively with a smirk.
“I guess that’s up to you. We tend to call our friends ‘Filth by Association’.”
Cass just rolled her eyes.
“Of cooourse you do,” she laughed, glancing at the giant ‘Shut Up and Drink’ logo mounted on the back wall.
“You know, with the right marketing, this place could end up giving you guys a whole lotta money in your pockets. Wouldn’t be too hard either. You can practically advertise anything on social media and get a profit.”
“Never said it was anythin’ earth-shatterin’, what’s the harm in a cheesy pun?”
Josh nods at Cass’ observations.
“We might consider it. Might not. I kinda wanna see if I can get in on this as a part owner, got some ideas, but ultimately it’s Johnny’s place, and I gotta respect that. We’ve not really discussed it yet, new venture and all.”
“I gotcha. It’s totally understandable. Just keep it in mind, yeah? That’s all I’m saying,” she nodded, eyeing a nearby pool table.
“No doubt, we ain’t gonna turn away a few extra bucks if we can do it with dignity.” Josh agrees, heading behind the bar.
“What’s your poison?”
“Got any whiskey?” Cass asked casually.
“Duh.” Josh responds, pulling out several bottles and inspecting them.
“Any preferences?” He adds.
She points to the Jack Daniel’s. Josh nods and promptly begins pouring into two glasses, sliding one further down the surface of the bar for Cass to receive.
“Hey. Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?” Cass asked after taking a swig.
“You still seem pretty tense to me. And you were acting awfully defensive in the car.”
“I’m always tense, that’s just how I am, ain’t nothing botherin’ me right now.” He answers, taking a sip of the whiskey, “Gettin’ to have a few drinks in my new bar with a good friend? I couldn’t ask for more.”
Again, deflection.
“We’re gonna end up getting hammered again just like the 4th of July, aren’t we?” Cass chuckled.
“That’s gotta be a rhetorical question, yeah?”
“I figured the answer was a resounding ‘fuck yeah’ but…”
“There’s a reason we got a logo that says ‘shut up and drink’, Cass.”
“It was the cheapest sign they had?”
Josh laughs.
“Something like that, yeah.”
“See? You’re already sounding a lot better! Enjoy yourself,” she nodded, taking another sip of her whiskey.
“Easier said than done some days. Not gonna take long before I’m all straightened out at this rate though, don’t worry about that.”
“So I suppose you’re a bartender tonight, huh? So I should talk to you about all my problems?”
“I mean, I’m not gonna say you can’t.”
“So, this morning… I stubbed my toe on the kitchen table. Hurt like hell.”
“Hey, as long as you’re still walking, that ain’t my problem. I’m not a doctor. Want me to check your reflexes too?”
“I’ve got the reflexes of a cat… a blind cat with awful reflexes,” she told him, exaggerating and poking fun at herself.
“Oh yeah, heard that helps a lot with this whole wrestling thing we do.”
“I’ve just sorta been punching blindly until something good happens,” she lies, continuing to suggest she was an awful wrestler.
“Don’t let the public know that. Gotta pretend you know what you’re doing.” Josh teased.
“Oh, they’ll never know,” Cass chuckles. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Maybe we oughta switch places and I should be the bartender now? Then you can tell me all your problems.”
“I think you need some kinda degree before you start tryna pick at my brain.”
“I got a journalism degree. That’s pretty much all about picking people’s brains for information! Shouldn’t that count?”
“Not quite the type I had in mind, but I can tell you ain’t gonna let this go.”
“You know me too well,” she smirks, taking another swig. “Just a little reminder: What’s said between you and me doesn’t read the public - no matter what. So feel free to spill those beans.”
“Look, it ain’t that I don’t trust you. Believe me, I do. I just wanna have a good time, and right now, digging through all this shit ain’t my idea of a good time, so just, please let it go, yeah?”
“Alright. Okay. I’m sorry. I was just trying to help but I’ll ease back. The last thing I wanna do is overstep my boundaries with you,” Cass responded sincerely, looking down at the legs of the stool beneath her.
“Thank you. I appreciate that. Maybe we can talk about this all again later, but right now, I’m just not ready to dredge all of that up.”
“Fair enough,” Cass nodded. “Hey, you remember those fireworks back on the 4th?”
“Not as well as I should, probably…”
“Hah. Maybe we should do it again sometime. Preferably when we’re both sober so we can remember, yeah? Could be nice.”
“Hmm, guess I don’t see a reason not to. Still got a few left over from last time and all, we can figure something out.” Josh agrees with a smile.
“Just make sure you don’t come close to losing your hand this time, okay? I’m not really how wrestling would work like that.”
“Did that happen last time? I don’t even remember.” Josh says with a shocked laugh.
“Yeah! I tried to warn you but your dumbass decided it’d be a good idea to stay two feet away when the fireworks went off.”
“Well, I’m alive. And mostly unburned, so I guess that’s all ok.”
“Mostly unburned?” Cass’ eyebrows raised. She was mostly just kidding but that caught her off guard.
“Well, yeah…” Josh says, upturning his arm, revealing a small, circular patch of irregularly colored skin just at the center of the wrist. An obvious cigarette burn. During one of his matches on the independent circuit, some opponent had walked out with a lit cigarette and decided to put it out on the most tender part of Josh’s arm.
“Yeah, you don’t get through all these deathmatches without a few burns, y’know. Hell, Johnny just branded my chest; it’s pretty awesome. Wanna see?”
Cass just looks at Josh like he was crazy.
“... Did he mistake you for a cow?”
“Something tells me you haven’t really watched much of Slaughterhouse, we’re all fuckin’ nuts over there. Again, this is one of my closest friends we’re talkin’ about here. His name’s right on that wall.”
She glanced to see that Josh was telling the truth. Scribbled right under Josh’s name was Johnny’s signature.
“Are you sure you guys aren’t literally batshit insane?” She said it jokingly, smirking at him.
“Actually, I’m pretty sure we are. Hey, at least we’re self-aware.”
Cass laughed.
“Just… Don’t hurt yourself too bad, alright? I don’t want you to come back here as just a skeleton one day. Well, more of a skeleton,” she smiled, gently poking fun at how thin Josh was.
“I’ll try. No promises.” He chuckles at the subtle dig.
“You develop bad habits when you can’t afford to eat most days.”
“You know I can loan you a little bit of money if that’s the issue, yeah?”
“That ain’t been the issue for years, thanks for the offer, but that’s the last thing you gotta worry about with me right now. Bad habits die hard, as they say. Food and I got a… weird relationship now.”
Cass nods.
“Let’s just hope you don’t die with ‘em, alright?”
“Well, that sure ain’t the plan.”
Smiling, she dragged her hand along the bar and moved back to her whiskey, taking a big swig of the warm alcohol.
“I know you said you didn’t wanna talk about it but…” Her eyes looked down at her drink and then flickered towards Josh again. “You gonna be alright against Artemis? You don’t plan on dying there either, yeah?”
Josh sighs and takes a huge gulp of his whiskey, almost draining most of what was left in the glass.
“I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk about it, alright?!” He snaps.
“You’re gonna do great, dude. There’s no reason to be defensive. Just because this Artemis used marketing and shit to advertise herself as this unbeatable monster doesn’t mean it’s true, yeah? You’re overreacting. You’re—” Josh interrupts her.
“Nah, that ain’t marketing, that ain’t a front. That’s really her, Cass. You got no fuckin’ idea if that’s what you think. My biggest fans don’t believe in me. Hell, most of my friends don’t think I stand a chance. That’s for real, and the only reason for it is because they know what she’s capable of.”
“You wanna believe that bullshit? Fine. You’re gonna have to face the facts eventually and see you’re gonna be alright. All this stressing? That’s what’s really going to be the death of you.”
“I wouldn’t be stressin’ at all if we could just have a nice time like I came out here for. I told you I didn’t wanna dredge this shit up right now. Look, I’m sorry if I’m bein’ an asshole, but this really ain’t what I wanna do.”
“Okay… Okay, it’s fine. I overstepped my boundaries. I was trying to help and I went too far,” Cass admitted softly, taking the final sip of her whiskey.
“I know you mean well, I know you’re just concerned, and I appreciate that, really, I do. But this is my own battle to fight, y’know? It’s all internal. No matter how much you try, I gotta deal with this on my own. You get that, right?”
“Yeah, I get that. I completely understand,” she nodded, thinking for a moment. “How about we have a toast instead? To not getting our limbs blown off on the 4th of July!”
Cass raised her glass. Josh smiles, goofy as it was, it had broken the tension that was there just moments ago.
“Ain’t no harm in that I suppose. And to hopefully keeping all my limbs after the show in August.” He replies, clicking his glass with her own.
“Cheers!” Cass laughs, sitting back down at the barstool.
Josh goes back behind the bar, the last sip from the toast having drained the last of his drink.
“How about another?” He suggests, grinning.
“Hit me!”
Stage Three - Anger, or No One Is Untouchable:
17th July 2017
On-Camera
“Dare you look into the abyss, confront what you received? There’s a vile fury within us, despite what you’ve been fed.” – Iceage (“Everything Drifts”)
“Shit. Fuck.”
These words come loudly, spat with venom, as the cameras open on Josh Kennedy. He looks haggard, his beard scruffy and uneven, his long, messy hair obscuring his face. He’s pacing restlessly, his trainers clicking across the ground with each step, leaving behind a resounding echo.
“I’m fuckin’ sick of this shit already, man. All this doubt, all these questions. Nobody believes in me, do they? Has everyone forgotten what I’m capable of? For fuck’s sake, I’ve been torn apart by meat hooks, fought off a fuckin’ alligator, ripped to shreds by barbed wire, been branded by one of my closest friends… I’ve put away legends and young guns alike. I almost won Redemption’s New Generation Championship on my second show with the company. I’m better than this. I’ve done some of the most violent, crazy shit imaginable, put my mind and body on the line every single night for seven years straight, and this is how I’m repaid, huh? So much for gratitude…”
His voice, usually garbled and thick comes out clear and sharp, the edge to his tone clearly communicating his frustration.
“I mean, shit, it’s not like I started doin’ this outta some desire to be famous or some shit, I did this to survive. I did this to get a roof over my head and maybe afford to eat every couple days. I didn’t have lofty expectations for myself. I never thought I’d be beating my childhood heroes to bloody pulps because they got me arrested, I never thought I’d take down legends I grew up watchin’. I never thought I’d be a world champion at any point in my life. I thought I’d die in the ring in my early 30’s in front of a crowd of a couple people in a dive bar somewhere in the Midwest and nobody would give a shit. Hell, I guess that could still happen at this rate, huh? I got my ass suspended from Redemption for losing my cool. This fire in me came out when I didn’t mean it to. If that’s the price, then so be it. What the fuck ever. Sometimes I can’t handle the shit rattlin’ around in this skull of mine. I could blame it on any number of things, I could play victim to my bipolar disorder, the fact that I’m off meds is easily fuckin’ me up. But god, goin’ back on that lithium again? Nah, I’d rather die. That shit left me a husk, a shell of a man, I can’t do that to myself again. If I just gotta own my shit, so be it, I’ll carry that motherfuckin’ weight to the grave.”
He laughs, bitterly.
“Of course, that ain’t gonna be too much longer at this rate, is it? ‘Cause, yeah, I’m a dead man walkin’. There’s no way of reconcilin’ or denyin’ that fact. Apparently, anyways. And y’know what I say? Fuck that. I can do this. I can set the whole fuckin’ world on fire if I want to. Nobody’s invincible, not even your precious fuckin’ Artemis Kaiser. I’m gonna put her away or die trying, ‘cause right now, I don’t give a fuck. There ain’t nothing I won’t do to her, or myself in that arena. No line I won’t cross, no limit I won’t push myself past to get this done off my own back. And the fact that even after all these years, people still don’t see that, almost makes me question if anyone’s even been watchin’, if anyone really gave a shit long enough to see past their own noses. I mean, really, when your opponent’s givin’ you more respect than your friends and fans, you know something’s fucked up.”
Josh pushes the hair out of his face, revealing his bloodshot eyes, veins of red snaking all over the whites of his eyes, and the pronounced dark rings underneath them. His cheeks are sunken, and his complexion is remarkably pale, even by his typical standards.
“I’ll spit in the face of your expectations. I will make your jaws drop off the bottom of your motherfuckin’ skulls and hit the floor. This isn’t gonna be just another Street Fight. This will be the most brutal shit you’ll ever bear witness to. And any motherfucker out there who still doubts me after this can keep their head up their ass; I don’t need y’all anyway. And Artemis? Invincible, legendary Artemis… You’d better grind my bones to dust in that ring, ‘cause that’s all you can do to make me stop fighting.”
With his rant unceremoniously over, Josh holds his head in his hands, as though in agony, breathing sharply.
“…Fuck.” He grunts, through gritted teeth. A little more incoherent murmuring happens before the footage stops abruptly.
Stage Four - Bargaining, or The Bitter End:
18th July 2017
Off-Camera
“The pain comes deep. Fuck the pain right back.” – Full of Hell (“The White Mare”)
Josh’s fist connects hard with the hanging bag, the impact resounding across the empty gym. The sweat he’s drenched in leaves a light sting on the surface of his skin. His entire body is in agony, screaming out for a respite he refuses to give himself. He tells himself he has to push harder, drive himself further forwards. That it’s the only way he’ll succeed. This isn’t new; of course, Josh’s obsession has driven him to this consistently. But each punch he throws carries a viciousness unlike anything he’s used outside of the ring. Josh grimaces, the pain’s noticeable, but he doesn’t stop throwing his fist at that bag like his life depends on it. He hasn’t given himself a break since he arrived in the gym almost three hours ago. His water bottle had long-since run empty, but he hasn’t bothered to stop to fill it up again. Fatigue, pain and dehydration plague him all at once, as the storm rages on in his brain.
In this moment, this is all that matters. This is life or death. If he gives up, if he stops for even a second, he’s failed. Ever since Josh had started wrestling professionally, he’d had distant dreams of success, successes he’d now long since passed. He’d scraped his way up from nothing to become a beloved star during his genesis in Japan’s brutal deathmatch circuit, clawed for every inch of success he’d ever had. He’d become an indie darling, and then, slowly but surely, a global star. It had been a long road. It took him a year and a half of grinding to become the midcard champion that drew all eyes to UWF’s hardcore wrestling division, he’d worked his fingers to the bone to elevate the title, and himself along with it. The same obsessive, unhealthy exertion that underpinned almost everything he set himself upon, like a rabid dog with a bone. But it was that very attitude that had brought him everything. It was that that had made him a world heavyweight champion, it was that that had made him a trios champion at this very moment, with a group that he’d built from the ground up.
And now that he’d surpassed every expectation for himself, he’d found himself with no more goals left to achieve. He had hardly expected a fraction of the following and successes he’d already had, all he had left was one final, ever-present goal. Permanent greatness. Josh wanted to die a legend. Regardless of however and whenever that happened, it was the only thing that continued his explosive passion for wrestling. He thrived on every bead of sweat he exerted in this pursuit, every drop of blood he spilled, be it his own or somebody else’s. The furious punches keep flying as he shuts out every signal his brain’s sending him, telling him to stop. In his mind, the moment he stops, he’s failed, and he can’t allow that to happen. So he continues on, punch after punch stubbornly fighting through the pain as best he can, even as his swings become pathetic, anaemic imitations of what they were just a few minutes ago. Still, he keeps throwing the strikes.
BAM
Josh sighs; he knows he can’t keep this up much longer.
BAM
He tells himself to keep going, to not stop for anything.
BAM
If he keeps pushing, maybe he can do what he’s promised himself. Maybe he can achieve greatness. Maybe he can beat Artemis Kaiser. Maybe he can be the King of Deathmatch Champion that Slaughterhouse deserves.
BAM
His vision blurs.
BAM
Nothing.
When Josh eventually comes to, it takes him quite some time to realise exactly what he’d done to himself. A preview of the bitter end his story’s inevitably heading towards. A fact Josh has been well aware of for the longest time, but never truly confronted. He stares at the ceiling of the gym as he lay on the cold, unforgiving floor, processing it all. Slowly, cautiously he sits up. His mouth is dry, his lips are chapped, and he still aches all over.
He stays like this for quite some time, assessing himself. The weight of what just happened isn’t lost on him, but the shock of it makes it difficult for Josh to think straight. Gradually, weakly, he hauls himself to his feet and moves for the water cooler. He takes one of the small plastic cups and fills it, downing the cool, refreshing liquid in a single gulp and instantly feels some energy returning. But his thirst isn’t quenched. He does this over and over again, gulping down as much water as he can stomach before pouring the final cup over his own head. Discarding the plastic receptacle, Josh moves for his belongings, taking them from their place by the unpainted surface of one of the walls, slinging the strap of his gym bag over his shoulder. He reaches into the bag, producing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, places them in his pocket, and heads for the door.
Stage Five - Depression, or In All Of My Dreams, I’m Drowning:
19th July 2017
Off-Camera
“An untimely shell of all that I am, nothing to comfort me, no one will come for me.” – Code Orange Kids (“Embrace Me”)
Depression's oppressive haze was more than familiar to Josh. It hung heavy over his head rather often. The other side of his bipolar disorder had allowed him to get incredibly familiar with it, it embraced him like an old friend in a way, and he almost welcomed it. He wasn't emotionally equipped to deal with many of the feelings he'd been experiencing of late, that much was evident to anybody who'd spent any time around him in these past few weeks. But he knew this part well, and rightfully feared that it wouldn't be so easy to shake. Each new step forwards he'd taken had felt like progression of some kind. Progression along a downwards spiral, perhaps, but still progression nonetheless. This felt like a regression, one into an old familiar area he didn't want to tread. He'd been in a manic state for the past month and a half at least, having shaken his depression. And despite the hyperactivity of this state, at least he felt like he could direct that energy into something productive, at least he felt somewhat happy. As happy as Josh could ever allow himself to be, that is. If his bipolar disorder slipped back into the permanent grip of his momentary depression, he didn't know if how much fight he'd have left to haul himself out. He didn't know if he could. Back to back title matches over the past few weeks, his suspension from Redemption Wrestling, and the death of his friend Adrian Tanner Jr. had all washed over him like a ton of bricks at once. Even his successes had felt hollow in the face of all of that. To put it simply, Josh was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. For the first time in a while, Artemis Kaiser was the furthest thing from his mind.
Lying in his bed, eyes bloodshot, staring at the ceiling, Josh’s mind was just as restless as his aching body. The ashes of the joint he’d been smoking to try and ease him into sleep lay in the ashtray on his bedside table. It hasn’t helped one bit. Longing for sleep, he closes his eyes and tries to induce himself into the only dream he’s been able to have for the past month.
It starts in a room. An empty room, completely devoid of colours or features, no doors, no windows, no lights, no paint on the walls. And yet somehow, Josh can see the bare, grey walls as though there were a source of light in the very centre of the room. The featureless chamber then slowly begins to fill with water. It flows slowly, covering his feet, and gradually working its way up to his ankles. All the while, he’s completely aware of what’s happening, just watching as the clear liquid builds its way up. Before long, Josh finds himself floating on the top of the body of water as it continues to swell. The feeling of ascension is unmistakably tangible as he floats upwards on the surface. The pleasant ascending feeling lingers for a long time, until he finds himself a little closer to the ceiling than he’d like. That’s when the realisation starts to occur that there’s no escape, he’s found himself trapped in a tomb. He dives beneath the surface, searching every inch of every wall for some way to get out. The panic sets in promptly after that, giving way to desperation. Josh tries everything he can think of, desperately, repeatedly, as the room fills in completely. Before long, the panic gives way to sorrow, as the inevitability of the situation sets itself firmly in his mind. And as he floats underwater, a gradual calm begins to wash over him. This is all that’s left now...
Josh wakes up with a start, the familiar dream, and the peace it brought promptly slipping away again.
Stage Six - Testing, or I Believe In Your Victory (feat. Mariano Fernandez):
24th July 2017
(Off-Camera)
“The world is a beautiful place, but we had to make it that way.” – The World Is A Beautiful Place And I Am No Longer Afraid To Die (“Getting Sodas”)
After everything he’d been through, Josh was starting a little better of late. A little more at peace. Still on edge, still tense, but better. Better rested, healthier, Josh had actually practiced just a little self-preservation in order to pull himself together somewhat. For one, he's eating daily and on a somewhat regular basis, which was quite the change from the usual. His moment in the gym earlier in the month even had him pacing himself sensibly. And his suspension from Redemption had ended up giving him the space to focus squarely on the immediate brutality of Slaughterhouse, to represent them as their champion as best he could, and get his head straight in the process. His spirits were higher than before, pushing at the edges of what he'd thought himself capable of. He's closing in
The sensory overload of the lights and sounds of the arcade he had just walked into helped distract from the many thoughts still running through his mind. Among the smoke and lights and noise stemming from the myriad arcade machines spread out across the arcade, Josh could see someone approaching him.
“Hey yo. How you doing, mang.”
Josh grinned as he recognised the greeting. The voice unmistakably belonged to Josh’s friend Mariano Fernandez.
“Yo, Manny! I’ve been better, I s’pose, but I’m gettin’ there. It’s something. How about you?” Josh says, truthfully.
“Thankfully, mang - everything’s alright. Life’s a struggle, but it ain’t for someone like me to give up, chico.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Josh chuckles.
“The day you give up, I dunno what kinda world we’re left with.” He adds with a grin.
Mariano takes his hand to his chin, his eyes rolling up, trying to think.
“Well for one, mang - Twitter would have a lot less anime girls and ragefaces, and would be a little more boring. But for the most part the world would stay the same. Life goes on, mang - and that’s something no one should ever forget.”
He looks back to Josh, grinning, then throwing his hands.
“Oh, but there I go, waxing philosophy in an arcade, mang. What kind of world is THAT!? Don’t worry, mang - pick the game, it’s on me.”
“Forgive me for disagreeing, but I can’t help but think a place where even you’d be driven to give up ain’t much of a place at all. I could do with takin’ a few pages outta your book, bruh. Not the anime girls, though.”
Josh quickly scans his way through all the machines, before seeing a familiar one and grinning.
“I think I still owe you a rematch from United We Stand, don’t ya think? My boy Sub-Zero needs some redemption.” He says, pointing to a Mortal Kombat cabinet with a wink.
Manny nods and raises his fist. “Say no more, mang! Let’s go!”
Just a few steps later, both wrestling friends are standing in front of the Mortal Kombat cabinet, Mariano inserting the coins in the slot. The character selection screen comes to life, and honoring Josh’s choice of Sub-Zero, Mariano picks Scorpion accordingly.
Josh fiddles with the controls a little, moving the joystick around, trying to get a feel for it.
“Been a long-ass time since I’ve played on one of these, blast from the past right here.” He observes.
Mariano, for his part, presses the buttons tentatively, doing the same on his side.
“But THIS kind of games, chico, are really worth going back in time for.”
“You ain’t wrong.” Josh says, nodding before looking to the screen as it gets about ready to load the fight, trying to focus.
At that point, the two bitter digital rivals appear on the screen, as the eerie announcing voice comes to life.
*ROUND 1 - FIGHT!*
“Here we go, mang! GET OVER HERE!”
Trying to catch Josh off-guard, Mariano inputs Scorpion’s iconic Spear throw. Manny’s ploy works, as Scorpion’s spear catches Sub-Zero and pulls him in. Josh tries to get his character to jump away, but not before receiving an uppercut. Manny looks at Josh, grinning his traditional trollface.
“PROBLEM, Sub-Zero?”
Manny goes up for a jump forward kick later, but is caught in Sub-Zero’s ice blast. Josh capitalises on this opening by going for Sub-Zero’s sliding kick before looking back at Manny.
“None at all, MANG.” Josh replies, mockingly.
“Well YOU WILL NOW, MANG!” - Manny says in a mocking rage voice, as Scorpion vanishes behind a fire pillar, popping out right behind Sub-Zero in a Tele-Punch. A punch-punch-roundhouse sends Sub-Zero flying across the screen, ending the round with a victory for Scorpion.
“Damn, you’re good. Better step it up, huh?”
“Go for broke, chico, and hold nothing back - because after all, this is....” - Manny screams - “MORTAL KOMBAT!!!”
At this point, a small crowd has gathered behind the two fighters, chants for both sides erupting equally, as well as funny remarks like “BREAK HIS UTERUS, JOSH!” and “SEND HIM BACK TO THE TRAILER PARK, MANNY!”
*ROUND TWO! FIGHT!*
Once again, Mariano attempts the spear throw right off the bat, but this time, Josh manages to get Sub-Zero to duck it just in time.
“Fool me once, bruh…” He teases.
“God DAMNIT, mang! And there was my secret weapon.” - Manny pouts following Josh’s joke. He has no time to recover, though, as after another jump kick, he lands in a puddle created by Josh, Scorpion slipping and floundering comically without any possibility of defense.
“You ain’t the only one who has tricks up their sleeve.”
Josh capitalises on this with a rapid punch combo, followed up with a high kick, which Scorpion manages to block. But blocking isn’t enough, as an uppercut attempt by Scorpion gets caught in by a Sub-Zero low kick, and a follow-up combo ends up with Mariano in the receiving end of a Josh roundhouse, the score even once again.
By this time, the crowd has grown much larger, a portion of it cheering loudly for Josh’s victory, another one starting a “LET’S GO MANNY!” chant.
*ROUND THREE! FIGHT!*
The fight opens with Josh attempting to use Manny’s favorite trick against him, firing off an ice blast immediately. Scorpion jumps over it and Josh looks over at Manny with a shrug.
“Figured it was worth a shot.”
“Shot at DEEZ NUTZ!” - Manny says, finally catching Josh on the jump kick, and going for another Telepunch right as Sub-Zero gets up.
Josh manages to recover, blocking a few punches before landing Sub-Zero’s slide attack to create some space. Scorpion gets up though, and ducks a Sub-Zero jump before catching him in a low sweep kick. A spear throw gets blocked by Josh, and likewise a Sub-Zero ice-blast gets blocked by Manny. Josh goes for the jump, but Manny steps back - finally catching Sub-Zero in the Spear.
“COME HERE!” - Manny yells mimicking Scorpion, before landing an uppercut that drains Sub-Zero’s remaining health bar.
“FINISH HIM!”
Manny shrugs, his trollface grinning again, and Scorpion removes his mask, revealing it to be a skull, carbonizing the hapless Sub-Zero with a fire breath.
“PLAYER 2 WINS.”
“FATALITY.”
The crowd begins clapping, hooting and hollering, as Manny offers Josh a hand.
“Hey yo. Good game, chico.”
Josh narrows his eyes, and the crowd tenses slightly, but he promptly drops the act with a laugh, and shakes Manny’s hand.
“Right back atcha. You kicked my ass almost as hard as fuckin’ Artemis Kaiser’s gonna when she gets her hands on me.” He jokes.
Some of the crowd cheer at the mention of Kaiser, clearly excited for the upcoming match that’s been hanging over Josh’s head like a piano suspended by a piece of string, just waiting to fall from the sky and crush him. At least, that’s how he’d felt for the past month. This internal turmoil was easing up, but still there, he was only just starting to find his footing. He’d been training his ass off, that much was plain to see, but there was still a lot of work left to do before he could feel any sort of confidence.
“Listen mang. I ain’t much of a hockey fan - but there’s this dude that said “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take” - and I agree with that. We never go out there knowing that we can win - but the one way we KNOW we’re always gonna lose is if we give up the fight before it has even started, chico.” - Manny’s usual cheerful demeanor subsides for a moment, his stern gaze indicating that he means what he’s saying.
“Sorry, man, I shouldn’t be talkin’ like this I know that. I’m doin’ everything I can though, I’ve researched all I possibly can, I’ve trained like a man possessed. I’m ready as I’ll ever be, and I can’t hear nothin’ but the sound of doubt. I mean, this is… fuckin’ huge, bigger than any match in my career, y’know? I guess I’m supposed to be confident, but it’s easier said than done.”
“‘Tis only natural to have doubts, chico. No one knows what to expect once the music hits, the lights come on and you find yourself walking that aisle on the way to the ring. Not only that - it’s only natural to be riddled, despite all training and research and overall preparation, with a sense of dread - that gnawing sensation at the back of your brain that ALWAYS warns you about the possibility of losing. But THAT, mang, is where your true confidence must be. It’s not about walking straight up puffing your chest like fear doesn’t exist - it’s about knowing, even so, that you’re walking into a possibility of defeat - of having that fear inside you and trying to drive it away, with every ounce of your body. It’s about staring at danger right in the face - and beckon it to JUST BRING IT.”
“You ain’t wrong. This just… feels different. Like, I’ve been at this whole thing for seven years, I ain’t worried about the jitters, they never leave. This time? Feels like more of an inevitability, like I’m gonna be walking out to my execution. The other people in my life have certainly been treatin’ it like that and all. I’m trying to do what you’re sayin’, really, I am. But it’s… hell, I dunno. I’ve done some crazy shit in my life, I’ve been a part of some of the most insane, bloody deathmatches in the history of this industry, and this seems to overshadow all of it. It’s like all that experience, all that work, all that skill, suddenly don’t count for shit. It’s like I’ve glitched my way into some PvP endgame as a level 1 with nothin’ but starting gear.”
Manny nods, sighing.
“Aye - I know how that feels, mang. I have still a LOT to learn - lots of things I haven’t seen, lots of people I haven’t yet faced. But I know that sensation of walking into a fight I’ve no possibility of winning. But at those times, mang - there’s no time to feel bad. There’s no time to feel fear, or shame, or sorrow. There’s only ONE worry in your head - to get out of there alive - to scratch and claw and BITE, if you must, your way out of that hell - to victory if you can, but to life because you MUST. You don’t know what your chances of survival are, so you fight as if they were zero. You don’t know what you are facing, so you fight as if it was hell itself. You may lose the match and the records might even forget it existed, but your opponent - your opponent will know. Your opponent WILL remember. You will hurt it so badly that it will NEVER forget you until the end of time. When your opponent is dying, its last thought will be of you. That is your memorial - carved into their heart. And it’s at THAT time, mang - when you really feel alive. You can’t lose, chico. You have already won. You may want to take this with a grain of salt though. After all… I’m just someone who plays videogames all the time.” - Mariano chuckles.
“Y’know what? I never really thought about it like that. I guess you’re onto something there. If I’m being told I’m good as dead, what does it matter? I can walk into that arena and shock the whole fuckin’ world with the best goddamn match I’ve ever put on, and there ain’t a damn thing anyone can do to stop me. I mean, I’ve been the underdog my whole life, the skinny white-trash kid who pulled himself outta nothing. Why does this have to be any different? I get to be the one who does something amazing on that show. For Artemis, I’m just another bug to squash, why the fuck can’t I use that? Why do I gotta be so down on my luck? There’s no reason for it. I can do something, if not the actual victory, I can walk away knowing that I did everything I could. I don’t often settle for that, but here? I think it’s the only chance I got. I’ve wanted to give this my all, and if I can’t look at it like that, I can’t make it what I know it can be. Fuck grains of salt, I got nothing else to lose here, and everything to gain. Might as well force myself to make the most of it.” Josh agrees.
Mariano pumps his fist.
“If you’re another bug to squash, mang - make sure your bite brings poison to take down a mammoth.” - He raises a finger as if he just came up with something.
“Speaking of bites though, mang - I’m hungry as all hell. Mortal Kombat DOES get intense.”
Josh nods.
“I’ll try and bring the venom. Mortal Kombat only gets intense when you got a good opponent. Safe to say that’s the case, I reckon. Saw a pizza joint down the road, wanna go there?”
Manny nods one more time.
“Deal, chico.” However, he once again gives a pout.
“BUT NO PINEAPPLE!”
Josh laughs heartily as he heads for the exit.
“No chance, man. No chance.”
Manny follows him.
“I swear I see ONE pineapple in my slice I’m going to fatality them for real, mang.”
With that, both wrestlers and friends walk off into the night, laughing. And for the first time in a while, Josh legitimately feels happy.
Stage Seven - Acceptance, or Today Won’t Go Down In History:
3rd August 2017
(On-Camera)
"Faintly, I'll go. To take this head-on." - Low Roar ("I'll Keep Coming")
The cameras open once again on Josh Kennedy, looking a little healthier than his last on-camera appearance, a little more colour in his pale complexion, the dark bags under his eyes a little less pronounced. The shape he’s in for his incredibly skinny frame stands silent testament to the work he’s put in to prepare. For in this rarest of occasions, Josh’s muscle holds some visible definition. The biggest change, however, is his facial expression. He seems more natural and at ease in front of the camera than he has in a long time. No longer the confused mixture of forlorn, furious and desperate. The typical low, mumbled cadence of his voice now comes soft and warm from his thick Southern accent. His third of the CWC Trios Championships is laid across one shoulder, while his recently acquired Slaughterhouse Wrestling King of Deathmatch Championship is mounted on the other, both proudly displaying their faceplates to the camera.
"I said I'm finally ready, and I meant it. A lot of my social media talk has been bullshit lately, I’ve been putting up a front like I’ve been doin’ ok. Anyone close to me knew I wasn’t. I've been struggling, I've been internalising. In the lead up to this match, I had to deal with a lotta things I wasn't all that well-equipped to do. See, you only truly get a shot at the top once. I ain't the smartest man in the business, but I know that much. 'Cause here's the truth, I've achieved a lot in my career, but it ain't a patch on Artemis Kaiser. That name carries a weight I fear mine never will. For all my obsession, for all the sacrifices I've made for this business, I'll never amount to what she has. At my core, I tell myself I wanna be the best of the best, the top of the wrestling world. And I do, I want that more than anything." Josh sighs and hangs his head.
"But really? We all know that ain't me. I'm never gonna be that guy. I can give my very best until I drop dead, just as I intend on doin', and I'll never amount to the same as some of the names I aspire to be up there with."
He raises his head again, eyes boring straight into the lens of the camera.
"I wanna be humble, I wanna be able to be happy with my lot in life. I've succeeded at a lotta points in my career where I never expected I would, and maybe this'll be another one of 'em. Because I know I got what it takes to beat you in that ring, Artemis. I'm actually pretty confident on that. Not many people seem to believe it, but there's just enough that do to help rid me of the total despondency I was dealin' with. And to those select few people, thank you. Your support means the fuckin' world to me."
"See, that feelin' of inadequacy that eats away at me comes from somethin' deeper: legacy. I've never been afraid to stand out, I may have been afraid to be who I truly am at times, but hopefully the one thing everybody is able to say about me is that I ain't like nobody else. But even with all of that, with everything I've done, I think there's one undeniable, immutable truth I've had to accept in order to be able to do this. By the time my career ends, no matter how that happens, I'll never amount to the same as names like Artemis Kaiser, Brandon Banks, Bronx Valescence, Owen Gonsalves, Mark Storm, Blaise Fader... The list goes on, but we'd be here all fuckin' day if I tried. And y'know what the eventual revelation of all this internal turmoil of mine eventually was? That that's ok. Even though it runs counter to every single instinct in my body and brain, it goes against the very fibers of my being. 'Cause here's the thing: I've been miserable for a long-ass time, and that's on me. I've refused to be happy where I am at any given point because I've always wanted more. And here I am with two prestigious Championships in my grasp still thinking I can't hang just 'cause people are sleeping on me for this one match? I have some amazing friends in my life, I have people that love and support me unconditionally, and I've never really stopped to take true stock of it until now. I've acknowledged it, I've known it to be true, but I've never really carried that around in my own head, if that makes sense. Probably doesn't. It probably shouldn't, really. My way of thinking is delusional and contradictory. It ain’t wrong, per se, but I know it shouldn't make sense to a healthy mind. I should have been grinning from ear to ear for the past two years straight, just happy to be here. But a happy Josh Kennedy ain't interesting, and I've always done my best work when I'm a car crash just waitin' to happen. But really, this is the easy part. Acknowledging all of this is one thing, but making the changes I need to finally be satisfied with what I have? That's what's truly difficult. But I owe it to myself - and to everyone who's ever cared about me for even a second - to achieve that. Instead of draggin' myself through the dirt, I've got to really focus and evolve into the man I hope I can amount to. That’s the only way I can put on a match worthy of the opportunity I’ve been given as a part of this WrestleWar show, the only way I can truly steal the show like I want to. It’s easier said than done, that’s for sure."
Josh smirks confidently, his eyes glinting with anticipation as he brushes away some of the long hairs that have gotten into his face.
"Don't get me twisted here though, not a fuckin' thing has changed. Self-preservation might be something I'm trying to enact outside of the ring in my everyday life, but when those bells ring? You'll still get the bloodiest, most brutal match I can give you. And believe me, I can get more violent than most. I think the fans over at Slaughterhouse can attest to that. I've lost all kinds of blood, I've survived all kinds of mutilation, I worked through a lot of the best athletes not only in deathmatch wrestling, but in wrestling in general, just to make my way to this baby right here." Josh says, patting the King of Deathmatch Championship.
"Ain't she beautiful? See, this is my honor, my resilience, perched right here on my shoulder. The payoff of all my hard work, everything I've survived to get here. To finally be able to say that I'm truly one of the best deathmatch wrestlers in the world."
Josh then slaps his hand against the CWC Trios Championship on his other shoulder.
"And this? This is my loyalty, my pride. My friends in The Filth Parade and I earned these in the face of hardship, we went through a tournament of some of the toughest wrestlers in the game to get here in just three nights. We knocked off the CWC World Champion on our first defense, and as CWC continues to throw the best trios they have our way, we keep standing tall. The Filth Parade is here to stay, a stain you can never get out, and I’m lovin’ every goddamn second of it. After all the rejection, all the failure, I’ve finally built a family of misfits I can call my own. I’ve finally reached a peak I should be able to settle upon, and I’ve still refused. Instead, I’ve looked to the taller mountains further off in the distance and decided that just because I haven’t climbed them yet, I still haven’t done anything worth a damn. I’m gonna try and put a stop to that, ‘cause I know what my life is, and it’s good. It wasn’t for a long time, I’ve known struggle, I’ve known pain, and this ain’t it. Outside of the torture I’ve been putting myself through for reasons even I don’t understand, I’ve had two years of mostly good. To try and actually live up to that is my final challenge, and I’m determined to finally do something about it instead of just throwing myself some pathetic pity party like I did last time I was on camera. Matter of fact, I wanna apologize for a lot of what I said there, I didn’t mean it, and Artemis didn’t deserve a bit of that. She’s gotta know I have nothin’ but respect for her. I just wasn’t equipped to deal with the feelings I was going through, I wasn’t ready to accept the truth that’s been staring me right in the face, even though I’ve been aware of it all this time. Now I’m prepared to do what I’ve gotta do.”
“So Artemis, you had an understanding of what you were up against from the start, but this is really it now. The time’s almost here. let’s make this the best damn match either of us have ever had, huh? I’ll fight to the very last of what I’ve got to give, that’s the only certainty I can promise you. Together, we can make the earth move, make an arena full of people shudder at a display of sheer violence that only we’d be capable of. We can put each other through hell and build each other right back up again. And that’s what I have every intention of doing. Bring your best, ‘cause I don’t wanna be capable of walkin’ away from the show on my own feet. Let’s steal the show, and don’t you dare hold anything back. End me if you have to, but I’m going out on my own terms, I’m doing everything I can to leave this show a legend. One of the only few things worth a damn I said before is that I will stop at nothin’ to win. There ain’t a single damn thing I’m not willing to do to myself or you to win this thing with my own two hands. Whatever happens, I’m goin’ out with a…”
With that, Josh makes his right hand into the shape of a gun, raises it right into the camera, and winks as he pushes his thumb down as though it were the hammer of the imaginary weapon, a tribute to a lost friend.
The shot fades to black, but the audio continues for just a little moment longer.
“…Bang.” He says, flatly.