Saturday May 15, 2004
It felt good to be back in the ring again.
My return went about as well as could be expected. I got knocked around, but I’ve taken
worse beatings before. I don’t know a lot about that Sterling guy, but he seem like the
typical type of wrestler, obsessed with fan approval and trying to become a star… In a
way I envy that about him. I wish that was the reason I do this. I wish I were blissfully
unaware of my undertaking. Unfortunately I’m not. No matter where I go or what I do I am
painfully aware that every move I make is just another piece of the puzzle… the puzzle
of the task at hand.
I have managed to find a small flat just outside of the city. It’s not much to look at
but the rent is cheep and the neighbors pretty much keep to themselves. I don’t need
much more then that. The only problem is there is no hot water most of the time. Not a
good thing for a guy who gets beat up for a living. I need to be able to soak these weary
bones after a hard day; otherwise the stiffness can almost be unbearable. But I am not one
to complain, so I just keep my mouth shut whenever I pass the super in the hallway.
Besides I don’t think he likes me very much. In fact I get the feeling that if I were to
complain about it I would magically end up with even less hot water then I have now.
While it may have felt good to be in the ring, it didn’t feel good to be out in the
open. I felt extremely vulnerable, exposed… In a way almost helpless. But then again, he
has that effect on most people. Especially people who are expecting him. That’s not to
say that when he shows up unannounced that it makes him easier to be around… believe me
that isn’t the case…
Like I say we were in Japan for almost a year (I honestly can’t remember how long
exactly because my head was spinning for every single day of it) before he showed up. It
was the second time I saw him, in person that is… I had seen him in almost every single
one of my nightmares.
The night started out like every other one. After a long day of training I returned to my
room, sore and deflated… I took a shot of stale sake, looked at myself in the mirror,
and then proceeded to my small cot where I would try one again to sleep away the pain.
As was often the case, the door slid open. WidowMaker entered. However tonight was
different somehow. He did not approach me. He didn’t attempt to comfort my wounds or
hold me in his arms. Tonight he just stood there, staring at me.
I tried to smile at him but I could not force the muscles in my face to obey my commands,
so instead I just stared back at him. Our eyes locked in a strange glance that was both
comforting and terrifying at the same time. It’s hard to explain.
Somewhere in the distance there was a noise. I jerked my head to the direction it came
from, but was unable to see anything. WidowMaker did not move… It was almost like he
expected the noise. Suddenly I was frightened more then anytime I had been before. I knew
what the noise was. I looked over at WidowMaker hoping that he would give me a signal,
some sort of sign that my intuition was wrong. He just kept staring at me. I then knew I
was not wrong at all… He was here.
WM slowly walked towards me and knelt down. I was beginning to panic so much that I
started to hyperventilate. He took my hand and held it tightly. He then leaned forward and
tenderly kissed my forehead. Silently letting me know that no mater what happened next he
was going to take care of me. All at once I felt this enormous wave of warmth flow through
my body. My breathing returned to normal as I gently lay my head back down on the cot.
Without speaking a word WidowMaker returned to his feet and slowly walked out of the room.
He slid the door closed, but left a small crack open. Intentionally I’m sure.
Off in the distance I could hear the sound of soft footsteps approaching. As I imaged,
they stopped in front of my door. I could hear voices, deep voices, engaged in a heated
conversation. I could not quite make out what was being said, but like I say I could tell
the conversation was spirited.
After a few minutes, that seemed to pass like hours, I couldn’t stand any more. I crept
from the comfort of my bed to the door and peaked through the crack. WidowMaker was there…
so was he.
He stood a few inches shorter then his brother, but the way he carried himself made him
look at least 10 feet taller. He was dressed in a long black cloak that covered him from
head to toe. Only his eyes, his pitch black eyes, were slightly discernible.
They continued their conversation; I was only able to pick up a few words here or there.
The only important one for me was airport. The time had come to leave and I dreaded it.
Despite the daily torture old Tigger Max gave to me, I felt that this was home. WidowMaker
and I had built a life here together. Now he shows up to take it all away. I began to feel
anger… Anger that was short lived as they suddenly stopped talking. They knew I was
listening. That anger turned to terror as he turned to look at me.
“Well well… so this is your new mancipium is it brother?”
I felt the muscles in my back tighten up and my mouth went dry.
“He is simply delightful… Let me know when I can borrow him for an evening… I have a
few requirements that he can… satisfy.”
Sweat was pouring from every part of my body. I wanted to run but I was frozen to the
spot. WidowMaker sensed my fear and stood between us.
“Oh my dear brother… you are too easy… I am not going to hurt your little playmate…
At least not yet… just be sure you are both ready in the morning.”
With that he turned and disappeared into the darkness. My knees went weak and I collapsed
to the floor. WidowMaker swiftly carried me to the bed and gently set me down. He then
turned to leave and I grabbed his arm. I asked him not to leave… I didn’t want to be
alone, not that night.
I knew that my life was about to become even stranger then before, and that this man was
going to be my only lifeline… The only thing I could count on in the days that lay
ahead.
I awoke the next morning alone. I stared up at the ceiling for a while, contemplating the
events from the night before. I was confused and scared. What scared me the most was the
fact that Trish was becoming a distant memory… Almost like she wasn’t real. That my
life before this was not my own.
Suddenly the door slid open and WidowMaker stood before me.
“Get dressed.”
Was all he said as he tossed me a pair of sweat paints. I did what I was told.
A few hours later I once again found myself in the back of a cargo plane. This time we
were headed to Mexico and the meet with my next trainer… Gill Mascara. That was all I
knew… for the time being that was all I needed to know…. The connection between us was
growing so strong that if WidowMaker asked me to go someplace, I would follow without
question. If he wanted me to go to Mexico, I was going to Mexico. And if he wanted me to
fly to hell with him I was going to hell…
Little did I know that it would not be long before WidowMaker would ask me to join him in
hell… and I would agree.
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