Prologue:
Jack never wanted this life. A string of bad luck? Born under a bad sign? It was all the same. It seemed to follow him around like a puppy. Despite being a great amateur athlete that possibly could have gone pro in Boxing, this was treated mainly as a self-defense tool, rather than a legitimate career option. Jack’s father Ethan was the reason. Ethan sought to possibly being Jack into the family “business” that wasn’t exactly legal. Jack at first saw what looked like an easy road to having money, but despite having that, and everything he could have wanted, Jack only received the ridicule and the haunter specter of his father’s wealth and influence. Nothing Jack accomplished would ever be seen at legitimate.
Jack had to get away.
Ethan was eventually arrested and spent a few years in prison. And while he expected that he would still be in charge, the operation moved on without him. So Ethan broke the code. He turned state’s witness and ratted out every person involved. In turn, Ethan was stabbed to death by an inmate. But even with Ethan out of the way, Jack had inherited his father’s enemies. Ethan’s last effort for any sort of fatherly care, was to order that Jack be left out of things, and that the people he influenced look after Jack, who was only guilty by association.
Despite numerous run-ins with the law, Jack was never formally charged with any crimes, guilty or not. The lawyers, crooked cops and judges always found ways to dismiss any cases. But Jack knew that his father’s influence only stretched so far, and he would never escape the shadow, unless he set out on his own.
Jack saw professional wrestling, and his goal became clear. That’s something that he could do, be successful at, and make a lot of money. He trained, and had his first professional match in 2018, at the age of 22. Jack quickly won the Division “New Blood” (later re-christened the “Limitless”) championship in his first match ever. But, only a month into his career, Division Wrestling folded.
More bad luck for Jack.
He knew that the life he lived wasn’t an option to go back to. He was given a job by a friend of his father in Virginia. Knowing he could not stay in one place very long, the “logistics delivery” suited Jack well. He took vehicles and cargo to places, and picked up another car or cargo and took it to another place.
But Jack is about to have another change in fortune.
--
Highlander Motel.
Williams, AZ.
3 Weeks Ago.</right>
He sleeps. Or at least, he tries. The shitty beds in the motel seemingly prevent him from finding a comfortable spot. Even at night, the Arizona desert is unkind and doesn’t make catching sleep any easier. He cannot decide. Sheets on? Sheets off? Does it even matter at this point? Whatever works at this point?
He pulls the sheets down, his bare chest at least catching a little bit of the breeze, arms over his head, stashed under the pillow. This seems to work. Finally. He closes his eyes once again. Perhaps in the vain belief that he will wake up somewhere different. A different state, different time, different life. Finally. His breathing slows, head falls slightly to the side. Sleep comes.
But with Jack? Sleep never lasts long.
His phone rings.
He dashes up, the HK45 handgun had slept with, pointed at the door. He scans the room gun following eyes. No, it’s not that, something else is making noise. He identifies it as his phone. He only slightly relaxes to look at it.
The name on the phone: Rico.
He pushes the button to take the call. Placing the call on speaker on putting the phone back on the nightstand.
Jack: Yeah?
Rico: Where are you?
Jack rubs his chin. For him, it was just one job after another, the names or locations never mattered. They all blended together, you see so much of the road. Every town, every city, just another place to do a job. Did it even matter anymore?
Jack: I don’t know… fuck… it’s hot…. Arizona, I think?
Rico: How long til you hit Vegas?
Jack: I thought I was supposed to be going to Fresno?
There’s a sigh on the other end from Rico. Jack knew there usually were no changes in plans for these deliveries. Something is up.
Rico: Look kid, the reason I sent you out there, was because I made some calls.
Jack jerked his head around to look at the phone. What he was hearing made him uneasy.
Jack: Calls? What kind of calls? What are you talking about?
Rico: Kid, you’re wasting your time and your talent working for me. I can get any shitbird off the street to drive shit for me. You don’t need to be doing this.
Jack stared at the phone. He knew what this could mean.
Jack: The fuck, Rico? You send me out here and now you’re not even gonna pay me? I do these jobs for you, and now you’re going to fuck me outta my money because you’re feeling sorry for me?
Rico: No! No, it ain’t like that. I knew some people out that way, and they told me about a place you can go. Get back into wrestling.
Jack: I haven’t wrestled in almost two years. Places open and close overnight sometimes man. I need something steady. This is steady.
Jack was raising his voice, prompting a knock on the paper thin walls from an angry patron.
Jack: Hold on.
Jack quickly stands up from the bed, taking his room key, and stepping out and reaching the door. Two knocks. Forcefully, just as annoyed. The patron answered. A man in his ‘40’s. Slightly graying hair. An angry, but now a twist of apprehension on his face. He didn’t want this to escalate. But it has.
Jack: I couldn’t help but hear you knocking on the wall, just a moment ago. Did you need something?
Man: I was, just basically asking you to keep it down. We’re just trying to get some sleep.
Jack: Oh. Is that right?
Man: Y-yes.
Jack: Well, if that’s all you wanted, you should have said something. Because when you pound on the wall, like that, like you did there… it makes me think you have perhaps a personal issue. We don’t have a personal issue, do we?
The forceful words and their tone clearly has struck the knocking man. He nervously chuckled, an obvious attempt to diffuse the situation.
Man: Look, it was a little loud, I was just asking to keep it down.
Jack: No. You weren’t. You knocked on my wall. In the middle of my conversation. So I had to get up and walk over here to see what the problem really is. Now, is there’s a problem, we can easily settle it. After all, we’re in the desert. And the desert has a lot of holes, and a lot of problems get buried in those holes. Now, heh, I didn’t pre-dig the hole. So why don’t you save me 45 minutes of digging and take yourself to sleep, once I’m done with my conversation? Sound good?
The man is now intimidated. He breaks eye contact and turns back to look at his wife in the bed. He turns back and nods.
Man: It’s fine. My mistake.
A slap on the shoulder.
Jack: Good.
And back into the room, a slightly satisfied flop onto the bed.
Jack: Now, where were we?
Rico: Here’s what I’m offering, right now. You go to Vegas. Take the car to Texas station. I’ll make a call for one of my guys out there to swap with ya. Just meet Orlando around noon, alright? He’ll give you the money for the delivery, don’t worry. That way, it’s all cleared up. Take his car, there’s a place south called Harrison drive, about 20 minutes away. Right across from Club Viva. The Airport Center, suite 5. Talk to the guy there, Leon. He’ll put you in touch with the man who can get you back in the wrestling game.
Jack: I told you, I don’t need to go to some place that packs it up after two shows.
Rico: This place has been operating for years. Trust me, kid, it’ll be the best choice you can make.
A pause. The options… While this did pay, it wasn’t a living. Jack knew Rico was right, at least, trying to put him on a path. Maybe Rico would try and suck up if it turned out well. Jack would remember that. It would be in the back of his mind if this went south.
Jack: Fine. I’m giving this one shot Rico, this better not be some shit you’re pulling.
Rico: You have my word.
Jack: We’ll just see.
End of conversation. Easing back into bed, and the process of trying to fall back asleep begins all over again.
--
Texas Station.
Las Vegas, NV.
He pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. He did the usual security precautions, checking around for people who clearly aren’t minding their own business and getting on with their lives. No one seems to match this description. This stop was unexpected, so it wasn’t surprising, but one can never be too care.
Jack parked the 2012 Dodge Avenger in a spot where the right person would notice, but outside of that, inconspicuous. He checked his watch.
11:56am
He had some time, so he flipped the radio on. 97.1 The Point was a minute and 30 seconds into Lynard Skynard’s “Free Bird”. A small, satisfied smile crossed Jack’s face. He leaned back in the driver’s seat, determined to enjoy the next 7 minutes. For at least that time, there wasn’t going to be anything more important.
A GMC Yukon pulled into the spot across from him. He noticed, but the music was getting good. The Hispanic man who exited the SUV locked eyes with him. Instinctively, Jack adjusted the HK45 in his waistband. He watched as the man approached the car, but through the windows, he heard the music, and proceeded to wait for the last minute and eighteen seconds. Jack nodded. You don’t interrupt “Free Bird”.
The music ended, and Jack rolled down the window.
Jack: Orlando?
Orlando: That’s me.
Jack stepped out the car. Keys were exchanged, an envelope also changed hands. Jack peeked inside.
Exactly what it needed to be.
A nod, and just like that, the exchange was over. Jack headed to the Yukon and started it up. He watched Orlando drive off, headed to Fresno. The familiar sound of his phone ringing caught him again.
Rico. Again.
Jack: It’s done.
Rico: Orlando’s got the car? Good. Alright Jack, Leon should be waiting for you. He’ll tell you the next steps. I guess uh… I guess this is it.
Jack: One question.
Rico: Shoot.
Jack: Why? Why are you doing this?
Rico: Kid, I told ya, you don’t need to be making deliveries. It’s not a life for you. It’s too close to what the old man used to do. I don’t want that on my conscience. Take this opportunity. Take it and run with it. Get as far away from that life, and this one as you can. You got too much talent, too much ability to be wasting it working for me.
There is a short pause. Jack rubbed his chin.
Jack: Yeah.
Rico: Go for it kid.
Jack: Rico?
Rico: Yeah?
Jack thought about it. Rico was in many ways, correct. This isn’t a life, it’s a job. A task. What was he doing at this point? Trying to have some semblance of normalcy? That wasn’t what he wanted. He wasn’t a regular Joe. That wasn’t what he was supposed to be. This was… a chance. A chance to take.
Jack: Yeah…
Rico knew what Jack meant.
Rico: … Your welcome, kid.
Jack hung up his phone. He stared at it for a moment. He made up his mind.
No nuts, no glory.
He put the SUV in gear, and drove the twenty minute drive, headed to his destination.
--
Patrick Airport Center.
Las Vegas, NV.
He pulled the car into the center and exited after parking. A nervous feeling seemed to control him as he walked from the car to the building. As with most people, the feeling of apprehension sunk in way too late. Questions controlled his thought process.
“What is this is a dead end?” “Who is Leon?” “Is this the setup?” “How will I get home if this doesn’t work out?” “Why did I trust this out of nowhere?”
He stopped 20 yards away from the door. He took a deep breath, regaining control of his emotions. If this was an opportunity, it was knocking and you must answer it. He somewhat psyched himself up for this. He resumed the walk, now much more confident. He grabbed the handle, entering the door. The older, balding black man looked up from the desk.
Man: Can I help you?
Jack: I’m here to see a … “Leon.”
The man’s face lit up upon hearing the name.
Man: I’m Leon. You must be Jack.
Jack: I am.
Leon: It’s good to meet you.
Leon stood up and stuck his hand out. Jack hesitated a moment, then he shook Leon’s hand.
Leon: Rico told me you’re looking for work. I mean… our kind of work.
Jack: I am now. I’m kind of out of job.
Leon: I think I have just what you’re looking for.
Jack: And that is?
Leon held up a finger, heading back to the desk and producing a piece of paper. He held it out in front of himself.
Leon: Sin City Wrestling. Holding a tournament, call it, “Blast From the Past” You win that, you get a championship title shot.
Jack: Really? They just offer this to anybody?
Leon: Anybody who wants to try and make a name for themselves. You interested?
Jack: Provided the money’s good.
Leon: They pay well. You just give me the word, and I’ll give Mr. Ward a call.
There’s no turning back now. Out of options.
Jack: I’m in.
Leon handed the Blast from the past ad to Jack, who studied for a moment, before folding it and putting in his pocket. His ticket to ride. He watched Leon enthusiastically call and speak over the phone. He had a bemused smirk and once he hung up, he flashed a toothy grin of accomplishment.
Leon: All looks good man.
Jack: So… now what?
Leon reached into his desk drawer, and handed Jack the SCW business card.
Leon: They’ll be expecting you.
Jack studied the card. He looked content, and nodded.
Jack: Alright.
Leon again stuck out his hand.
Leon: Pleasure doing business with you. Glad I could help. Good luck out there.
Jack could only chuckle at this.
Jack: Luck in Vegas… Cute.
He stuck his hand out this time. Leon shook it. He nodded, and quietly left. He exited the building, and everything had happened so fast, he was now dizzy. All he had to do was go to see what Sin City Wrestling was all about. He took a moment to breathe it all in. A queasy feeling overtook him and he hunched over, dry heaving for a moment or two. He regained his composure and resumed his confident walk. He was about to take the biggest chance. A bet on himself.
In Vegas.
By his own words “Cute.”
He studied the address on the card. He entered the SUV, plugged the address into his GPS and started the car. The drive of a lifetime.
--
SCW Corporate Offices
Las Vegas, NV
It wasn’t long before Jack met with Christian Underwood and Mark Ward, seemingly impressing them in his meeting. This was a win-win situation. Jack would get a nice contract to wrestle, and he would be out of the country, away from problems for his debut. This suited him nicely. He needed them, and they needed him.
The contract was signed, the ink fresh and the paper still warm. Jack Washington was now a member of the SCW roster. The photo op was done. Everything had seemingly fallen into place.
Jack now had to make another important choice.
He would eventually take the money, and stay up in a hotel in Las Vegas for the time being. Things had seemingly fallen into place.
Now he had to make the most of it.
--
Homewood Suites Hotel
San Bernardino, CA
The long drive was worth it to at least set up shop. Checked in, gym nearby. He purchased the essentials there, he would be living out of this hotel for a little bit. His wrestling gear and some essentials were sent by mail and would arrive in time for him to depart to England. The plane ticket was sent. The twitter followers blew up. Jack, was back.
Time to get to work.
--
On-Camera
Click.
Seated in a chair. Leaned back. Focused. Ready.
“I feel like I should introduce myself, but my name is already on a bunch of people’s lips. Despite a short, albeit eventful, but short run in a long since dead company, I still grab attention and headlines. I got people following my social media account, I got people coming up to me since I signed on the dotted line to wrestle for Sin City Wrestling talking about what the future holds for me, and how I have a great shot at making something of myself.
And it really just annoys me.
I don’t need people to tell me about chances and what they mean. I don’t need people to talk about “it” factors or “potential.” You can take potential in one hand and shit in the other and we’ll see which one fills up faster. Everyone has potential. It’s what you do with it that counts. And if think for one second that I am not about to do anything and everything to get where I need to go, you are either naïve or stupid. There’s more than one way to reach the goal. I’m not here to shake hands, kiss babies or make friends. I’m here for the money and the fortune and fame that comes with this profession. I walked away a champion my very first match, and it took the company doing their very best to stack the deck against me to finally take that championship. And low and behold, right down the tubes that place goes. Coincidence? I think not.
But that’s the past, I’m not here to talk about the past, but just giving you a little context.
You may not like what I have to say, but I’m just a guy who tells it like it is. And that scares people. People don’t want to hear the truth as cut and dry as it is sometimes. People don’t want to be told their wrong, or an asshole or pathetic, or what have you. Doesn’t mean a thing to a guy like me. I will tell you what and how I feel and if you choose to get upset, that really your choice, not mine. Your feelings aren’t my concern, I’m here for me, and me only.
This Blast from the Past tournament, it’s a cute little setup. Let’s pay homage to legends and people that everyone else has long since forgotten or never cared about. This isn’t about the past, it’s about the future. It’s about the possibilities and what could be. The fact of the matter is, you are about to see the single fastest rise to the top that anyone in wrestling has ever seen, let alone Sin City Wrestling. You may not like the way I see it, you may not like the way I do it, and that’s all well and good, as long as I get what I’m after, I couldn’t care less how it happens.
But again, that’s just me. Pretty straightforward.
So when I tell you right now that I’m headed to England to take an old dog out back and shoot him in the head, you better believe I believe that 100% that it’s about to happen.
If there’s one thing I just can’t stand, even in my short time in pro wrestling in general, is guys who just hang around, and hang around and suck up a paycheck and get trotted out like a circus animal as well wait for them to do their trick so we can all move on to the more important things. Casey Williams is this type of wrestler.
I’ve had to stomach watching Casey Williams material, and holy Jesus I know I said everyone has potential, but it looks like every single ounce Casey ever had was wasted. He was a fluke champion and clearly was the weak link in his tag teams. The mere fact that this guy has continued to stick around and stick around and poke his head out from irrelevance time after time can only really be summed up in a few words.
A sad joke.
At this point, the man’s a charity case. Just change his entrance music to clown music and send him out with a big red nose. The man is clearly past whatever little prime he ever had, and is just someone who is only getting a pity bone thrown at him. Just play the music, and watch the clown dance. Throw some money at him and put it in his tip jar. I mean, how many times can you walk to the ring, believing you’re this big, bad, monster only to be routinely slapped back to reality? How many times can you be retired by someone only to come back for more?
The man is the living definition of insanity.
Realistically, the man has nothing to show for being as large as he is. He’s doing nothing but wasting everyone’s time and this Sunday, he will just be there to do his little dance one more time, only to wind up knocked on his ass by me. I will destroy the “myth” of Casey Williams, he will just be the first of many that I used as a stepping stone. There’s really only one purpose for Casey at this point: to be used a stepping stone by more talented people, and I will exploit that to the fullest. A giant in life, a failure in the ring. You will all witness his destruction as I ascend and falls back into that pit of obscurity, hopefully to never, ever embarrass himself by coming back to the ring, ever again.
But of course that’s only half the battle isn’t it. Now, I don’t know Tallyn. But the small conversation I had with her on social media is enough for me. In time, we will develop into a well-oiled machine, but for now, I know she has my back, and will take apart any and all of the “bombshells” that are in this tournament. Bobbie Dahl, from what I can tell, is just some whiner who says life isn’t fair.
Welcome to the real world, Bobbie Dahl.
It’s not fair and it never will be. It’s not fair that she didn’t do what she needed to do to win a championship match, it’s not fair she has a shitty partner who’s about to be put in the retirement home one more time. But them’s the breaks. I mean, from her twitter posts, she knows this is a waste of her time and effort since Casey sucks. But if she feels the need to try and carry her team, I have full confidence that Tallyn will dispose of her in short order. We, have bigger and better things to look forward to, and Bobbie and Casey can just go away and their lives can be much easier.
England we start the most historic run in the history of Sin City Wrestling. By hook, or by crook, we’re going to win the whole damn thing.
Watch me. Watch us.”
Fade to black.
Click.
Watch. This. Space.
