Animosity

‘How long has it been since we’ve done this?’ asked Dan suddenly. I looked up, a little annoyed that he had started a conversation right when the croquetas – my absolute favorite dish - had just arrived. But as I looked at his face – now mostly healed from HOSTILITY’s fiery assault, but his skin still kind of shiny – his expression was that one he got where he was as much talking to himself and trying to figure out some math problem as he was actually asking me. I looked pointedly at the croquetas. ‘Semi-rhetorical,’ he said, chuckling. ‘Sorry, what was I thinking asking right at this instance?’

We were at our favorite tapas restaurant, and I could only assume that by “this” he meant… either ‘when were we last at this particular restaurant’ or ‘when did our schedules last allow us both to have a nice dinner out and a relaxing night in.’ It had been a while; CWF’s final tour of Europe had kept me jetsetting pretty intensely, even if I had flown back more than was advisable. Dan, meanwhile, had been flitting between every tiny town in the South and Southwest with HVW; even though he was no longer Champion, and not even in the running for the title anymore, he was still one of their biggest and most popular names, and the powers that be were making sure to get full use out of him for promotional work.

But happily, the most recent event had been in Duluth, not thirty miles from home, and so Dan had been able to stay at the house in Atlanta for almost a full week. And as much as I wanted to remain in England ahead of Crossing Lines…

‘… I don’t know that we’ve had a night out like this this year,’ I said, about five minutes after Dan had asked. By now the flank steak – his favorite – had arrived, and he looked at me, his mouth full, and a look of annoyance on his face. ‘Hey, turnabout is fair play!’ I exclaimed. ‘And besides, you asked.’

He chuckled again. ‘Fair, fair… god, has it really been that long?’

I shrugged. ‘Well, 2326 wasn’t exactly heavy on the date-night opportunities… and pretty much as soon as we got back, you signed on with HVW, so…’

He looked slightly hurt at that, and it took me a second to puzzle out why. ‘I’m not critiquing!’ I said hastily. ‘Babe, joining HVW has been the best thing that’s happened to your career in years. And who knows, maybe it’ll be where I end up once CWF finally closes.’

Dan laughed. ‘Gotta warn you, it’s a different pace. And the accommodations tend a little more towards the grubby.’

‘Meh,’ I said, ‘it’ll be like the old days in CPW.’

Dan leaned back, a look of contented nostalgia on his face. ‘Colorado Pro Wrestling! Man… those were the days.’

‘Really?’ I said, arching an eyebrow.

‘No,’ he said. ‘But hey, rose-tinted nostalgia. Plus, even if we were in the cheapest motels not shut down by the state, we were together. And young.’ Unwittingly, he touched his face and winced.

‘What’s up?’ I asked.

‘I…’ he said. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘It’s something.’

He sighed. ‘I looked forward to this age for a long time.’

‘Monty Python?’ I asked. It wasn’t a question; he’d made this fucking joke so many times…

‘I’m thirty-seven, I’m not old!’ he said, the same look of delight on his face as the first time he made the joke. ‘Well… that’s what I say anyway, but my God do I feel old.’

‘Babe, we’re not even forty.’

‘I know! But… ah, forget it, this isn’t the night for it.’

I sat, idly toying with a piece of calamari. I knew full well what was coming next. Sure enough, he continued. ‘Sorry, it’s…’ He sighed. ‘I’m tired, Cali.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘I am too.’

‘… I don’t really know where I was going with that.’

‘I know,’ I said, smiling. I dipped the calamari in marinara sauce and ate it. ‘I mean, I’m going to have to get past it, given, y’know…’

‘The Ripper,’ he said, a smile forming. ‘I mean, are you really worried? Both of us have beaten him clean in the last three months, far as I’m concerned he’s just keeping the belt warm for you.’

I shook my head. ‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘I’m not underestimating him. One, the stakes weren’t as high; two, he has beaten me within recent memory; three…’ I took a deep breath. ‘Three, this stipulation worries me.’

‘What, the I Quit?’ Dan said. I nodded. ‘Why?’ he asked.

I looked at him, my head cocked to the side. ‘Because,’ I said, slowly, as if trying to explain to a five-year-old, ‘it’s one of the most brutal match concepts ever devised.’

‘You’ve been through Malice in Wonderland and Higher, Wire, Fire – surely those were worse?’

I thought for a moment. ‘Maybe. But the I Quit… I’ve never done one, have you?’ He shook his head. ‘Higher, Wire, Fire was brutal, sure. But the goal was pretty simple; get the damn Book from the top of the arena. Malice In Wonderland was harder, but that was because I was fighting a friend. I was royally pissed with Omega at the time, but… well, she’s held my hair back as I puked after too much Samuel Smith Brown Ale. And I had to throw her through a freaking mirror. She still has the scars.’

Dan nodded. I took another sip of my sangria. ‘But an I Quit match, even against someone like Ripper… leave aside the fact that any level of depraved violence that that psychopath can dream up is entirely on the table, it’s…’ I took a breath. ‘The goal is to break someone. To do so much damage, cause so much harm, render them in such pain and fear and anguish that they have to vocalize that they have lost. It’s one thing to tap out. God knows I’ve tapped out enough fighters in my time; they called the Bed of Roses the most feared move in CWF. But to have to say it, to say that you quit…’

‘Brutal,’ said Dan. I’m sure he was capable of deeper insights than that, but there wasn’t really much else to say.

‘And this is why I’m not letting my previous victory over Ripper blind me to what’s before me,’ I continued. ‘This is a match built for a man like him. He’s someone who enjoys inflicting pain – real pain, not just sportsmanlike exchanges of fisticuffs and wristlocks. Ripper is a sadistic maniac – but I don’t need to tell you about that,’ I said, nodding at Dan.

‘Barbed wire steel cage match,’ he said, nodding.

‘Yup. Ripper will be in his element. And I…’ I took a breath. It was time to admit it. ‘I’ll be out of mine. For all the matches that I’ve fought, I’ve never done that much of the hardcore stuff, and there’s a reason for it.’

‘What do you mean?’

I thought for a moment about how best to phrase it. ‘What was my best match? Not necessarily one that I won, but my best.’

Dan didn’t have to think long. ‘MJ, Paradise 2018.’

‘And my second-best?’

‘… probably MJ again, this year.’

‘And my third?’

That one took a bit longer. ‘I mean… probably the finals of the Infernalia tournament. You were every bit the underdog, you even had to fight a match earlier in the night just to get in… and you still won.’

I nodded. ‘And what do all those matches have in common? The MJ matches especially.’

Dan’s lips pursed the way they did when he was putting information together. It struck his after about twenty seconds. ‘No gimmicks.’

‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘I’m a wrestler. Sure, I’m capable of fighting a brutal battle; I’ve gone to war against the Institute, the Order -’ I hesitated a moment, since it had been Dan who had been my most vicious opponent where the Order was concerned, but if he was making the connection, his face didn’t show it. ‘But there’s a difference between fighting to defeat and fighting to break. I don’t relish that kind of violence. Not the way others do. Not the way Elisha did, not the way Ataxia did… not the way Ripper does.’

Dan looked pensive. I continued. ‘Hell, think about when we fought Lionheart – I beat him with mercy, not more violence. I’m far from fond of Ripper – out-and-out dislike the guy, if anything – but to inflict enough pain on him to cause him to actually say that he can take no more…’

‘You know,’ said Dan, ‘I’ve known Ripper a long time.’

‘So have I, your point?’

He waved a hand somewhat impatiently. ‘He and I went at it for months, years, back in the old run of CWF. The 1A and 1B of CWF, he called us…’ He stopped. I looked at him piercingly. ‘The point is,’ he continued, ‘that inasmuch as anyone can really know a guy like Ripper… I know him. And I think you’re focusing too much on one side of the equation.’

I cocked my head and gestured for him to go on.

‘Ripper likes dishing out pain,’ he said. ‘He revels in it. He’s a guy who will stand over a downed opponent and keep kicking them in the ribs, and maybe stomp on the back of their knee to boot, just so they won’t be able to get back up. And he’s strong, strong enough that he can impose his will on just about any opponent he comes up against. There’s a reason he won Golden Intentions, and it’s not just that he came in at number 30. There’s a reason that he’s the World Champion, and it’s not just that Gordy King was having an off night. He’s an absolute, terrifying badass… on offence.’

‘… explain.’

‘When Ripper’s on top, he’s on top. He’ll keep up the attack, unrelenting, unforgiving, unstoppable… unless he is stopped. If he is – if he ends up on the back foot…’  I nodded. Dan continued. ‘Think about when we fought at Crown of Legends. He hit me with everything he had. He beat the shit out of my knee and put me in a figure-four. He hit me with the Ripper Kill Shot. But I kicked out. And do you remember what happened next?’

I nodded again. ‘He flipped out,’ I said.

‘Exactly. Guy like Ripper? He’s a badass… while he’s winning. But once he’s not? That tough, badass façade begins to falter. And while he’s still dangerous…’

‘Heh,’ I said. Dan looks at me. ‘Dangerous Danny.’ Dan chuckled, and I went on. ‘You’re right, though. The question is, what do we do about it?’

‘Don’t quit,’ he said simply.

I laughed. ‘As if it were that easy.’

He looked at me, an earnest expression on his face. ‘You’re Caledonia Highlander. You fought a one-woman crusade against two international organizations because one of them took me away. You fought off every goddamn contender in the CWF when you were Champion the first time. You got pulled three hundred years into the future, fought a tournament where the organizer explicitly wanted you to lose, stacked the odds against you… and you overcame five of the strongest fighters in literal history to win. You went over an hour in Golden Intentions and almost won. And when MJ Flair beat you at WrestleFest, you didn’t pout. You didn’t throw a tantrum. You didn’t claim that the contest was rigged, that it was unfair, that you were oh-so-hard-done-by. You got up and you fucking shook her hand and embraced her. Because that is who you are.’

He gripped my hand. ‘We’ve been together nearly twenty years. I know you as well as any person can know any other. And there is one thing about you that I know to be as true as one plus one being two. And that is that Caledonia. Doesn’t. Quit.’

I squeezed his hand. ‘Thanks babe. I… needed to hear that.’

It was at that point that our server came by to ask if we wanted dessert, and one slice each of olive oil cake later we were back at home, resting up before the fight of my life.

===

Dan dropped me off at the international terminal of the airport the next morning; he himself was off to Pittsburgh for the next HVW show, but he planned on joining me at ringside for Crossing Lines. A surprising number – well, not really that surprising, I suppose, I was the number one contender – of fans were hanging out in the check-in area of the airport, much to the chagrin of the TSA. I gave some high-fives and took a big group selfie, promising to post the picture on my Instagram, and headed through security.

I’d always been risk-averse when it came to flights, and consequently was on the other side of security with two hours before my flight boarded. I made for the Delta lounge – traveling so much for CWF did have its benefits, I had cleared Diamond Medallion status by mid-August – and, collecting a beer and some snacks, I found a chair looking out the window at the tarmac.

A thought struck me suddenly that… this was it. This was likely the last chance I would ever have to vie for CWF’s World Title. There was only one more major show after this one, and if I lost here I was unlikely to get another shot. And even though the usual jokes had circulated online about how many “absolute last show ever”s CWF had had… something felt different about this one. It was planned, for one thing; most of the other times, CWF had just shut down kind of out of nowhere. This time, we were building towards it; not to mention, there was the odd relationship we had with HVW, meaning that our fans could get their fix there. If nothing else, in HVW they could see their favorite Australian (sorry, Coulter and Braxton).

No, this was it. This was the last call, and Crossing Lines was in all probability my last shot to ascend to the pinnacle.

And all I had to do was hold the line… as a rabid, high-functioning psychopath, with good reason to be royally pissed with me tried his damnedest to break me.

… no pressure.

On the flight over, I contemplated the merits of another excursion to the Grotto. It was a place I’d used to my benefit before, when I’d been faced with the very real prospect of needing to throw Amber Ryan – someone with whom I had gotten my nails done – through a glass mirror. The Grotto was a place where it was not only acceptable but encouraged to work through whatever mental barriers you had in place.

But no. Getting myself into a mental place where I could inflict violence was only part of it. In this fight, I would need to make myself revel in the violence, and even the Grotto couldn’t help with that. I would need to do what I could to get through the match, to survive Ripper’s onslaught, to persevere… and to make Ripper the first CWF Champion to relinquish the World Title by out-and-out saying that he was relinquishing the title .

… now that was decent motivation…

The flight was uneventful, which was about all you could hope for from an international flight. We landed in London, and I was pleasantly surprised to find Eris waiting for me at the gate.

‘Good flight?’ they asked. I nodded. We headed for the parking lot, where Eris had a car waiting. We got in and started driving.

‘Listen,’ they said at one point, unusually seriously, ‘you might want to check in on your cousin.’

‘Mark?’ I asked. They nodded. ‘Why?’

‘We hung out a little in Germany,’ they said evasively, ‘… and then a little more in York.’

I sat with that for a second. ‘… what depraved sex act did you do with my cousin that I should go and check on him?!’

‘Nothing!’ Eris protested loudly. I raised an eyebrow. ‘Actually nothing!’ they continued.

‘Then what did you do to him?’

‘You know, he never did tell me all the details.’

‘… what?’

It was around that point that we arrived at the arena. I didn’t normally stop in this early, but there had been a mandate that all performers must incorporate pyrotechnics into their entrance, so I had to sort that out.

And besides, there’d been an interview request.

I met Philip, the producer in charge of the pyrotechnics, and we had a short discussion. I didn’t really use pyro (‘I’ve been getting that a lot today,’ he muttered), but we hammered some things out. As we were finalizing the plan, I heard a throat being cleared behind me. ‘Ms. Highlander?’ came a polite female voice. ‘Sophie Pullings, with BBC Sports, we had an interview scheduled?’

‘Yes, indeed, sorry I’m late,’ I said. I was neither late nor sorry for it, but apologizing when you weren’t actually sorry was tradition in this country. ‘Shall we begin?’

‘Let’s go down to ringside,’ she said. ‘Better visual than the catering table.’

I chuckled. ‘Of course.’

As we emerged from the backstage area and walked down the ramp to the ring, I was rather amused to see MJ lying in the middle of the ring and apparently napping. ‘Please excuse me,’ I said to Sophia, leaning on the ring apron. MJ was breathing steadily, but I recognized this now. Taking the pulse, I thought.

A wicked part of me contemplated launching a Fall From Grace to see if MJ would sense it, but I decided against it; not least, I couldn’t risk messing up and injuring myself. I settled for our usual greeting – ‘Hey champ!’ – and a short conversation before returning to the interview, leaving MJ to her totally-not-a-nap.

‘Sorry about that,’ I said, somewhat meaning it that time. ‘Let’s begin.’

The camera light flicked to green, and focused on Sophia as I stood off to the side. ‘Good evening,' she said. ‘We are here with Caledonia Highlander, the number one contender for the CWF World Championship at the upcoming Crossing Lines event.’ I saw the camera pivot slightly, bringing me into frame. ‘Ms. Highlander, thank you for joining us.’

‘My pleasure,’ I said.

‘If our research department is correct,’ she said, ‘this is somehow your first time wrestling a match in the UK, much less London, your hometown. If that’s the case, how are you feeling about it.’

I thought for a moment. ‘D’you know, I do believe you’re right! Wow. I’ve really never wrestled in London. Well… bloody fantastic then, I’d say. And to my fans – sorry it took this long!’

‘It’s also the third time that you’ll wrestle your opponent, World Champion Danny B,’ continued Sophia.

I shook my head. ‘It will be the third time I’ve encountered him,’ I said, ‘but I doubt that what happens in that ring could be called wrestling.’

‘Oh?’

‘Our match is, as far as I know, the first of its kind in CWF – a match reserved for the most bitter of rivalries. The I Quit match… more than mere submission. After all, I’ve made World Champions tap out before,’ I said, projecting my voice towards the ring. MJ, still supine, responded by raising her middle finger. ‘But this is different. I’d be fooling myself if I thought that Ripper planned on armdrags and hammerlocks. This won’t be a wrestling match. This will be a war. This will be two of CWF’s greatest fighters matching raw unadulterated will against each other. The only question – the only question – is whose will is greater.’

Sophia looked a little taken aback; after all, this was hardly a response to her question.

But it was great television.

So she gestured for me to continue.

‘And while I might not be a sadistic bastard like you, Ripper… while I might not get off on inflicting agony… my will is stronger than yours.

When I’m handed adversity, I don’t piss and moan and whine about “waaaah they don’t want me sharing a ring with the legends.”

I fight the fucking fight that’s before me.

And I fucking win it.

And I certainly never fucking quit.

So maybe you’ll be able to make me say the words, Ripper. That’s what the match is for, after all.

But if the words we’ve each said up until now are any indication…

… I don’t like your chances.’

My words lingered for a few moments. Sophia cleared her throat awkwardly. ‘Okay, erm… wow. Um. Any parting words for your opponent?’

I stared directly at the camera. ‘Enjoy that belt while you have it, Danny. Hang on to it real tight. Because at Crossing Lines…

… I am going to enjoy making you surrender it.’