[Jake Sullivan]

 Sunday April 16th
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
After Climax Control Went Off Air


I’m gonna kill him! Straight up gonna wrap my hands around his throat and choke the fucking life out of him! I don’t give a shit if it’ll break Melody’s heart or make me look like a big pile of shit, but that sonofabitch is going to pay for what he just did. I just have to fucking find him!

He hightailed it backstage pretty damn quick. I’ll give him that much. He ran like the coward that he is, because he knew I’d be more than pissed off at him getting involved where he shouldn’t have, and because of it, Jeremiah Hardin stole my damn title from me! I should be pissed off at myself, but fuck that shit. I’m directing my anger at the appropriate pieces of shit and once I’m dealing with J, I’ll handle Jeremiah Hardin and get my damn title back.

I didn’t even pay a single second of attention to Jeremiah Hardin celebrating in the ring after Jasmine handed him my title. I couldn’t focus on that shit, so I chased after J. I’ll admit, that’s where my damn size put me at a disadvantage because J is a quick little fucker so once I burst through the curtain and to the backstage area, he was nowhere in site. Everyone is staring at me. I’m sure half are still shocked at what just happened and me losing the title to Jeremiah Hardin, and the rest are probably wondering what the hell I’m doing.

“J!!!! YOU LOUSY SONOFABITCH! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!?!” I clench my fists and shout at the top of my lungs. I feel my face going beat red as I look around, trying to see where J could be hiding. “James...Huntington...Hawkes...the third!!!! COME OUT AND FACE ME ASSHOLE!”

Figures he would be hiding like the damn coward that he is. People are still staring at me as I storm around the backstage area, tossing shit as I go. I don’t give a shit what I break in the process. I don’t give a fuck who I hurt in the process. It’s all collateral damage, because once I get my hands on J, it’ll all be worth it. FUCK why didn’t I see that shit coming?! J has been an even bigger pain in my ass the last few weeks than he was last year before I made the mistake of joining up with that bullshit J2Hism.

“Where the fuck is J2H?! Where did he go?!” I shout to anyone and everyone directly around me. Some shake their heads while others scurry off and run away like the pussies they are. “I know someone saw where he went! Answer me God damn it!”

But no one answers me. Seriously, it’ll be easier for everyone else if they just tell me where the fuck he is, because them protecting that piece of shit just makes them just as guilty in my eyes. They just refuse to tell me, and it pisses me off even more as I kick a large equipment box and it flies back into the wall.

I let out another roar. I really can’t fucking help it. I can’t remember a time where I’ve been this damn pissed off, and I take a steel chair, whipping it across the hall. It crashes against the wall, breaks into pieces and to my sheer fucking delight, takes a chunk out of the brick wall. I let myself grin for just a second and let out a quick chuckle but I have to get back to looking for J. I feel my knuckles go white as I’m beyond frustrated. As I stand where I’m at for a moment, it suddenly hits me.

“Fuck. I know where the little shit is!” I shout out loud as I look at my surroundings.

I storm off down the hall, searching for the right locker room, passing the Men’s and Bombshell’s locker rooms. Sharing a locker room with the other guys on the roster is beneath him and he doesn’t have his own locker room anymore since he’s not the World Champ anymore, so I know exactly where to find him. I finally stop just outside the door labeled “Melody Grace”, close my eyes and take in a deep breath. My eyes shoot open a few seconds later and I kick in the door.

When I burst into the locker room, expecting to find an unsuspecting J2H and Melody Grace, I instead find an empty locker room. Melody and J apparently got out of there pretty damn fast as their shit is already gone. Fucking figures. I let out a frustrated roar as I bend down, grab the bench just in front of me and toss it across the room. It crashes against a TV monitor, breaking it, but I don’t give a shit.

“AHHHHHH! SONOFABITCH! MOTHER FUCKER!!!” I can’t hold anything in. I start tossing shit around the locker room, demolishing every fucking thing in my way. “Fucking piece of shit coward!!!!”

I’m aware that people are passing by the locker room, some shrieking and in shock of what I’m doing, but let them. At this point if anyone tries to stop me from unleashing all this anger and rage I’ve got going on, they’re bound to get hurt. I continue kicking and throwing shit across the room and the sweat starts to pour down my head. I’m running out of breath, but I fight through it because I literally can’t stop myself. I can’t hold it all in. I bring my hands up to my head, wiping all the sweat from off the top of my head and when I spin around, letting out another angry growl, my eyes stop on Kittie as she’s standing in the doorway.

“What the FUCK are you doing?!” She yells at me, her jaw dropped as she looks around at the mess I’ve caused. “Do you realize how much all this is going to cost you in damages?!”

“I don’t fucking care!!!” I roar back, fuming. “He fucking cost me the title, Kittie! He stuck his nose where it didn’t belong and Jeremiah Hardin beat me! FUCKING JEREMIAH HARDIN!” Another roar and I grab another chair, whipping it across the room. Kittie ducks as it comes close to hitting her and I collapse down to the floor, rocking back and forth.

“Yeah no shit. I was watching the entire thing!” She screams. She steps around the broken chair and into the locker room, stopping just a few feet in front of me. “You got distracted and it--”

“DON’T PUT THIS SHIT ON ME!” I snap my head up and glare at her. “Even if J hadn’t come out there, Jeremiah was clearly on some shit because he was a lot fucking stronger than he was the last two fucking times I faced him! Fucking bullshit!” I kick at the broken pieces of...something...in front of me and I start breathing heavier. My heart and head are both pounding and I soon feel Kittie’s hands on my shoulders.

“Calm the fuck down, alright?” She says as calmly as she can. She runs her hands up my neck and grabs my face, forcing me to look at her. “Shit happens, but destroying a whole god damn building isn’t going to make matters any better. Mark and Christian could suspend you for this shit!”

I shake my head and swat her hands away. “I don’t fucking care, Kittie! I’m...I’m...I’m fucking furious right now!” I start rocking back and forth again, shaking my head. I don’t think I’ve ever acted this way in one of my fits, but my blood is boiling right now. I can feel it.

“No shit, Sherlock.” She snaps back, sitting on the floor next to me. I wish she would keep distance between the two of us, because I really don’t want to hurt her, but Kittie is nothing short of persistent and aggravating at times. “Look, it’s just a damn title, Rage. You can get it back. Same shit happened when you had the Internet title and faced Dmitri. Just...calm down and focus.”

I shake my head. “I can’t, Kittie. It may be just a fucking title, but that loss...that was fucking embarrassing! It was my first god damned defense after the controversy of how I won the damn thing in the first place! I’ll never be able to recover from that shit.”

She shakes her head and nudges me. “Oh quit the fucking woe is me bullshit, Rage.” She tells me. I look up at her with a frown. “Everyone knows that wasn’t the normal Jeremiah out there tonight. Even if J2H hadn’t gotten involved, he probably would have found a way to beat you.”

I snarl and push myself away from her. Did she seriously just say that shit to me?! It doesn’t matter. I don’t care what the fuck she just said. I don’t give a shit if Jeremiah was on something or possessed by a fucking demon of some sort. I had him beat until J walked out when he shouldn’t have.

“Don’t get all mad and try to deny it, Rage.” She says, scooting back closer to me and closing the space between us. “Everyone saw it. Everyone has been talking backstage about that shit. They saw something was off, and honestly if I were you, I’d go to Mark and Christian and demand Jeremiah be drug tested or something. They could just make that victory null and void and the title will come right back to you.”

I laugh and shake my head. Yeah, like that shit would actually happen anyway. “Fuck that, Kittie.” I say, taking in a deep breath. “It’d be pointless because my suspicions or anyone else saying the same shit wouldn’t be proof enough to them. I’d be wasting my time.”

“So then demand your rematch for next week!” She raises her voice and I look at her. “Get your damn title back and quit being this way.”

I close my eyes, bring my hands up and gripping the top of my head. I let out a sigh and shake my head again, feeling completely lost, but my blood is still boiling and I feel like exploding again at any second. “Fuck Jeremiah Hardin.” I snarl at her. “He’ll get what’s coming to him soon enough. No, I need to focus on getting my hands on J and breaking every fucking bone in his God damned body! Little bastard is going to regret this!”

Kittie takes in a deep breath and lets out a sigh, shaking her head. I know she’s just trying to help, but with the current mood I’m in, even angry sex with her wouldn’t be able to help like it normally does. I just want her to leave me the fuck alone, but she won’t.

“Rage, listen to me.” She speaks calmly, placing her hand on my arm. She squeezes it gently, which is weird even for her, but I’m doing my best not to explode and hurt her in the process. “This shit with J isn’t over yet. Everyone knows it, so it’s best if you just not focus on that shit and worry about going after Jeremiah again and getting your title back. Besides, I’m pretty damn sure J is going to stay hidden for the next week. Melody was waiting for him and they hightailed it out of here as soon as the show ended.”

I turn my head slowly and look at her. My eyes are narrowed and my nostrils are flared out. I clench my fists again until my knuckles are white and I furiously kick at the broken shit in front of me again, screaming at the top of my lungs. Kittie pushes herself up to her knees and brings her hands up to my shoulders as she starts massaging them, trying to calm me down.

“Breathe, Rage.” She says calmly. “I know you’re pissed off and I don’t blame you, but just...breathe. Relax. Calm the hell down.”

She continues massaging my shoulders and I let myself close my eyes and do as she says. I take in several slow deep breathes, unclenching my fists and letting the blood flow through my knuckles again. A few minutes later, Kittie stands up back to her feet and stares down at me. “Get up.”

I look up at her, confused. “What? Why?”

“Because I said so.” She bites back. “Just get the fuck up.” I roll my eyes and shake my head. I take in a deep breath before I push myself back up to my feet, towering over her once again.

“Look, let’s just get out of here, okay?” She runs her hand down my arm, shaking the sweat off her hand with a slightly disgusted look on her face. “Let’s go back to the hotel. You can take a shower and just relax for the night. Or...we can find a better way for you to let off some steam.”

And there it is. Her ulterior motive. I look down at her and she winks at me and I take in another deep breath, looking around the room at the mess I created. I’m actually quite proud of myself for it, but I’m pretty sure I won’t be getting my next paycheck because of it. I shrug and look back to her.

“Alright, fine.” I lie. The truth is, I’m not fucking fine, and I won’t be fine. “Why don’t you head back to my locker room and start getting our shit together. I’ll be there in a second.”

She looks confused as she folds her arms. “Why don’t you just come with me?”

“Just go to the locker room, Kittie.” I order her. “I’ll be right there. I just need a minute or two to myself to gather my thoughts, okay?!”

She stares at me for a moment, reluctant to do as I ask, but she shakes her head and shrugs, throwing her arms up in the air, defeated. “Fine.” She gives in. “But don’t go destroying anything else. Otherwise you’ll be without a paycheck for months.”

I can’t help but grin as she turns around and heads out of the locker room. Once she’s out of view and the coast is clear, I give in to the rage again. I crack my neck and feel my fists clenching again as I head over to the door. I look out, making sure she’s nowhere in sight, and snarl at a few people staring at me and the damage I caused. But I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take being in this building anymore so I turn to the left and storm off towards the exit. I don’t even bother taking any of my shit. I just want to get the hell out of here and out of Philadelphia.



I won’t lie. That loss hit me a lot fucking harder than any loss I’ve ever suffered so far in my career. It was embarrassing. It was maddening. It never should have fucking happened, and I’m not going to sit here and blame myself for shit that wasn’t my fault to begin with.

The first defense is always the most important. It was even more important for me because nobody was happy with me cashing in the King Of the Hill briefcase on Drake Green after he beat J2H at Blaze of Glory. I got a lot of flack for that shit, and I’ll probably get a lot of flack for the rest of my life, but as I’ve said in the past, I don’t give a shit. But...this match was my first chance at proving I deserve to be the damn champion. Sure it was just against Jeremiah Hardin, but unlike some people, I treat every opponent the same. I don’t slack off. I don’t hold back just because I’m facing a midcarder or rookie.

But from the start, I knew...I fucking knew something wasn’t right. I could feel that things weren’t going to go my way. I could feel that, even though I was giving it one hundred percent that night, that I would have to give just a little bit more if I wanted to keep my title. Even then it wouldn’t have been good enough, would it? Even then, like Kittie said, chances are Jeremiah still would have walked out as champ because the bitch had the strength of two or three guys.

It was one of those moments I just knew I couldn’t win. I didn’t want to accept it. Didn’t want to admit it, but it sure as shit was. I can normally deal with a loss no fucking problem. It’s not about wins or losses to me. It never has been. It’s about beating the shit out of my opponent and making a statement. And I was trying to do just that against Jeremiah Hardin.

And then J got involved.

I was on my way to trying to finish off Jeremiah...maybe prove myself wrong that he could be beaten that night...and then J’s music hit. I knew that Ward warned him not to lay a finger on me or Hardin in this match, because he knew J was up to something and that he would try something. But, FUCK, Ward should have just warned him not to get involved at all! Leave it to that spoiled little piece of shit to find a way around anything and do something to piss me off even more.

But that didn’t just piss me off. That didn’t just make me fuming angry.

It fucking HUMILIATED me. And that set off a side of me that I’m just not even used to. It set off a fury of emotions that right now...I just can’t fucking control no matter how hard I try. And believe me, I’ve fucking tried.

Every time I think I’ve finally calmed down and that my head is clear, a thought creeps into my head and sets it off all over again. I yell. I scream. I roar louder than a fucking bear for Christ’s sake. And I break shit. A lot of shit. Nothing seems to be helping me keep this rage under control, and honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get it under control again.

And that’s not a good thing. Not for me. Not for Kittie. Not for J2H, Drake Green or even Jeremiah Hardin. I’ve never experience this anger before so when I’m this uncontrollable to the point I’ll flat out admit it...well, anything can happen.

Shit can and will get broken. People can and will get hurt. Careers can and WILL be ended. And you know what? I...don’t...fucking...care!

But I guess I have to deal with all of that next week in DC, won’t I? I’ll get my chance to confront J at Climax Control. Maybe even Drake Green and probably even Jeremiah Hardin. As for right now...there’s a few other people that I need to confront because all of this shit just set off a completely different set of emotions. Emotions that I need to confront. And there is only one place that I can confront those emotions...those feelings…

Back in Las Vegas…



Monday April 17th
Las Vegas
**OFF CAMERA**

It’s been weeks since I’ve been back to my house. When SCW is touring, I really don’t find much of a damn reason to travel back and forth like most people do. The travelling gets to be too much and it makes no sense to go to one place, stay for a day or two and then have to head to the next city. I don’t know about anyone else, but I don’t do well on living on little to no sleep. It makes me that much harder to deal with. As if it matters right now considering how fucking unstable I’ve been the last twenty-four hours.

The flight back home I was stuck being seated in front of some annoying little kid, constantly kicking the back of my seat. I tried to ignore it. I really fucking did, but that little shithead just wouldn’t stop! So I turned around, glared at the little bastard without saying a single word. I think I scared the little shit pretty good, because he went stark rigid in his seat, gripped the armrests and stared at me with a panicked look in his eyes. His skanky mother was seated next to him, staring out the window not paying attention, so I didn’t have to deal with her bitching to me, thankfully.

After leaving the airport I hailed a cab to take my back to my place. Traffic took a little longer than I expected, or wanted it to and once the driver pulled into my driveway, I tossed a few bills at him and quickly went up to my front door. I unlocked the door and stepped inside as the cab disappeared back down my driveway and away from my house.

Normally I’m used to walking into a quiet empty house, but I really could have used Aggie to greet me at the door right about now. I don’t even know how she’s doing, considering Phil took her out of here and to Synn’s when she got sick. I could have fucking took care of her, but whatever. She clearly preferred him over me anyway.

I’m only here for one reason. I’m not here to sulk. I’m not here to wallow in self pity or some shit like other people do. No. There’s a room downstairs I need to spend a little time in right now and that’s exactly where I’m headed.

I storm my way downstairs, flipping the switch at the bottom of the stairs so there is light. I’m half tempted to just bypass my whole original plan and go to the workout room, but I quickly shrug off that thought saying fuck it and walking to the room just next to it.

My “trophy” room.

All athletes have one, right? I personally didn’t want one, but not only did Kittie bug me into getting one, Despayre thought I should have one, too. I don’t know how the fuck I always let them talk me into doing shit I didn’t want to do, but I guess it doesn’t matter now, does it? The only one who will be bugging me from now on is Kittie anyway, and in the end, I rarely listen to her so whatever.

I turn the knob and push the door open, standing in the doorway. I close my eyes, preparing myself because I know as soon as I turn on the light, I’m going to lose it. I’m going to lose my shit and go apeshit, without anyone here to stop me.

“Don’t fucking do it, Rage.” I say out loud, surprising myself. I rarely try to talk myself out of doing something, but destroying more shit in my house might not be the best idea. “Turn the fuck around and just..leave.”

I reach inside the room and to the right, putting my hand on the lightswitch. I don’t turn it on right away as I keep my eyes closed and keep my hand on the lightswitch. I stand there for a long while, almost unable to move, but then that dark voice deep inside me whispers to me. My eyes shoot open as I flip the switch and turn the light on, gazing around the room.

“Fuck it.” I step inside, my eyes darting around the room at all the reminders of my accomplishments in my career from GXW and now SCW. It might not be as many accomplishments as others, but it’s enough to at least be slightly proud anyway.

I feel myself start to shake as I stand in the center of the room, turning around and just looking at everything. My blood starts boiling almost immediately and I shake my head, quickly losing my grip on reality. When I lift my head again, I can’t keep it in any longer and I let out a loud growl before I rush over to one of the trophy cases containing my very first SCW Tag Team championship belt...the one I won and held with that dipshit Jamie Staggs.

I swing my leg forward with one forceful kick, breaking the glass, but I don’t stop there. I keep kicking at it until it’s completely shattered, then reach down, picking up a piece of the metal edge, spin around and whip it across the room. It shatters against another another trophy case, this one holding the very first SCW Heavyweight Championship I held. The one that I defeated Nick Jones for. I don’t give a shit.

I move to the last case holding the second tag team championship that I held with Despayre and repeat the process, destroying that one as well, but I keep going. Pictures, awards...anything and everything that reminds me of my entire wrestling career I pull down off the walls and slam then down on to the floor, demolishing them. This whole room can piss right off. But as I stand over the mess I’ve created, and my ruined reminders of my achievements, I feel a burning desire to just set everything on fire.

It’s the only way…

“No...No!” I shout, shaking my head and trying to hold myself back.

“Do it, Rage. You know you want to.” The dangerous voice says inside of me. “Better yet. Call Electra. She’ll have no problem doing it for you.” And the damn voice then laughs! It fucking LAUGHS at me!

“NO! I WON’T DO IT!” I shout back, even though I’m clearly having a psychotic break and just shouting to myself. I grip my head, nearly convulsing from the anger. “I...I can’t do it!”

I storm out of the room. I can’t be here anymore. The longer I stay in this mess, the more likely I am to just set my entire house on fire and then I’ll really be screwed. And not only that, but Kittie will be screwed as well, but at least in her case, she’d be allowed to crash at Synn’s for a while.

Synn’s…

Shit...I really need to try and sort shit out with Synn and the other’s. But I’ll need a little liquid courage before I deal with that shit storm.



I don’t know how I did it. I don’t know how I managed to stop myself before I walked out of the room, went and got some lighter fluid and a lighter and just set that bitch on fire. I wanted to do it. Hell, a part of me still does. I never wanted that house. I never needed a house that big, but Despayre thought it was my style when he was helping me pick out houses and he got me a good deal so…

DAMN IT! Everything leads back to that shit, doesn’t it?! Every fucking thing reminds me of what a big fuck up I am. Everything! I should have just set the damn thing on fire and burned the bitch to the ground and disappeared, because it would have made some people’s lives a hell of a lot easier.

But, that didn’t happen, did it? No, I was able to fight through the urges and leave before I made yet another huge mistake. I don’t know how, but I’m not ready to find out, because chances are if I go back to the house right now, I’ll be tempted all over again. But, I went from almost making a huge fucking mistake, to making a stupid fucking mistake.

Before I get into the details, let me just point out that I don’t usually drink hard liquor. I’m more of a beer kinda guy. It’s simple and it’s what I know. Anything else and shit gets fucked up. I get fucked up. So of course knowing that shit, my first thought was to go to the nearest liquor store, buy the biggest bottle of whiskey I could find and start downing the entire bottle. Well…almost the entire bottle.

It probably wasn’t the wisest decision I could make. But it was a decision I made anyway. I needed to talk to Phil. I need to talk to Despayre...to Synn...to everyone. If they were even there. I need to see them and speak to them face to face.

Turning up shitfaced drunk probably wasn’t the best way to do that, though…



Later that day…
Synn’s Home
Las Vegas, Nevada
**OFF CAMERA**

Damn. I really need to drink this whiskey shit more often. It’s pretty damn good. Goes down smooth. Not exactly doing the best job at masking my problems, but fuck it. I’ll still drink it.

I called a cab for the second time today. I don’t know why, because I fucking hate paying the cab drivers their ridiculous fare to drive me around Vegas, and I have a perfectly good car, but it was probably a smart decision considering I just got my license back not the long ago and I don’t need to go wrecking another car and getting in even deeper shit for driving drunk.

“You can’t drink that shit in here.” The cab driver had warned me once I opened the bottle and started downing the contents.

I took a few giant gulps and then glared at him from the backseat. “Just shut the fuck up and drive.” I say, taking out more cash from my pocket. “Extra trip for ya if ya keep your mouth shut and just drive.” He was reluctant to listen to me, but the big wad of cash in my hand was too tempting to pass up so he put the car in drive and started heading the distance to Synn’s place.

Once he made it to Synn’s neighborhood, I had him stop at the end of the driveway and just drop me off there, as I didn’t want anyone to see the cab pull up closer to the front of the large mansion. I paid him his money, plus the large tip, exited the car with my booze in hand and he drove off. I stood at the edge of the driveway for a long while, drinking the whiskey while I thought about what I was doing. Phil’s car isn’t in the driveway, so either he doesn’t live here anymore or he’s just not home.

“Fantastic.” I think, taking another big swig of the whiskey. The whole bottle is nearly gone by this time, and I’m trying to build the courage to just walk up to the door and get this shit over with.

It takes me awhile to do that, though. Longer than I thought it would. I don’t even know how long either, as after about half an hour, I think, the whiskey started to kick in and the earth started spinning. I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to fight through it but as soon as I open my eyes again, everything is spinning again. More than before, actually.

“Nooope. Didn’t work.” I say outloud, surprising myself. I take in a deep breath and start walking the steps up to Synn’s front door, nearly losing my footing a couple times. “Fuuuck. I forgot how to...walk.” A giant unexpected hiccup escapes from my lungs and I can’t help but chuckle as I continue stumbling up to the door.

As I get closer to the door, I see the curtain to one of the windows move, so I know someone is home. It was probably Despy looking out to see who was here, and I’m not paying attention to where I am walking. My foot hits the bottom step and I trip forward towards the door but I catch myself and walk up the few steps and stop right in front of the door. Do I knock? Do I ring the doorbell?

“Doorbell!” I say outloud, feeling a grin appear on my face.

I put my finger on the doorbell and push it, hearing the sound on the inside of the house. I chuckle as I ring the doorbell again and again and again, finding it amusing, but I don’t even know why. Fucking doorbells. I hate them. But...this ain’t my house, so I’ll just…

“Despy!” I actually feel myself smiling but that fades pretty damn quick because as soon as Despy sees me, he starts to close the door.

“Oh come on Despy,” I think I say as I place my hand inside the door, but I could be slurring my words because I’m fucking trashed. “You and I both know you won’t--”

*SLAM*

“SONOFA!!!” He did it. Little bugger ACTUALLY slammed the door ON my fucking hand! I hear him yell “Rage is here!” to Synn from inside the house as I stumble around and then collapse down to my ass, holding my hand in pain.

“Fucking hell I think he broke my hand!” I let out another growl as I stay seated where I fell and shake my hand, trying to get feeling back into it. It only causes another jolt of throbbing pain to shoot right through it, but I fight through it. I’m not some pussy bitch that whines about something as little as a paper cut. But...I’m also drunk so that adds to it too.

I wait for Synn to open the door and step out and approach me, but he doesn’t. He obviously wants nothing to do with me, but that’s not gonna stop me from waiting. I sit and wait for what seems like hours and just when I’m about to stand up and pound on the door again, a car pulls into the driveway.

“Oh fuck,” I say, shaking my head. “He called the--” I squint my eyes to get a closer look at the car and finally realize once the driver gets out that it’s Phil. My younger, and much more good looking than I am, brother.

“Phil! Heyyyy brosef!” The fuck did I just say? I laugh as I can’t even comprehend my words any longer and I struggle to get back to my feet.

Phil shakes his head as he walks up to me, stopping just a few feet away. “Jake, what the hell are you doing here?” He folds his arms and asks me. I stand up and stare at him, confused.

“Jake? Who the fuck is Jake?” I ask, scratching my head. A moment later I remember and I snap my fingers. “Ooooh, right. I’m Jake. Or I was. I don’t know!” I stumble back down the steps, nearly falling forward but Phil is able to somehow catch me.

“You’re fucking plastered right now!” He growls as I stand up straight, but wobbly as shit.

I smile and nod proudly. “You fucking bet I am!” I chuckle. “Ya know I don’t even know why I hadn’t drank whiskey more often before today. I’m feeling pretty damn good right about now.”

He shakes his head as he stares at me with an annoyed expression on his face. “Except for your hand.” He says and I’m reminded of the throbbing pain in my hand again.

“Fuck!” I shout, bringing my hand up to stare at it. “He slammed the door on my hand, Phil! Despy! Despy did it!”

Phil laughs and nods. “Yeah I know.  Synn called me. He was tempted to call the police but I told him I would handle it.”

I snarl and turn around, looking to one of the front windows. I spot Despy for a quick second just before the curtain moves and he disappears. I wave my hand and turn back around to face Phil.

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’ Phil! I just wanna talk to the guy!” I shout, not even realizing just how loud until he sighs and shakes his head.

“And he doesn’t want to talk to you, Jake.” He replies. “Just...give up, alright? He’s not going to forgive you. You’re not going to be welcome back here. Leave them be for Christ’s sake!”

I roll my eyes, unable to control my actions thanks to the large amount of alcohol in my system turning my the filter in my brain off. Any thoughts that run through my head, I immediately put to action and this includes dropping down to the ground right there and sitting down, burying my head in my hands.

“Fuck! I went and fucked up my life big time, Phil.” I say out loud, vaguely aware of my eyes starting to water. The fuck is that shit?! “I went and joined up with that little piss...piss...MOTHER FUCKER...and look where it got me? And now I lost my damn title to Jeremy Hard-On!”

Phil raises his eyebrow and lets out a laugh. “You mean Jeremiah Hardin?” He asks.

“Whatever! I was close enough!” I shout at him. “Fucking worthless cocksucking fool has my title!”

Phil laughs at me again. “Karma is a bitch, isn’t it bro?”

I snarl at him. “Hey fuck you, bro! I don’t give a rat’s dick what I did, I didn’t deserve to lose to that asshole! You can hate me all ya want, but I’m fucking humiliated, Phil! And the people who were supposed to be my family don’t give a shit!”

“I don’t hate you, bro.” He replies and to my surprise he sits down on the ground right next to me. “But I think you need to open your eyes a bit and see just why all of this shit is happening.”

“Because I was a dumbass and betrayed the only family I’ve ever known?” I respond quickly as I turn and look at him. Fuck, all this emotional feelings bullshit is not something I’m familiar with. I don’t like it.

He shakes his head and says, “Well, that’s part of it, but look at the bigger picture. When’s the last time you really did anything independently? For or by yourself?”

I scratch my head and lead out a snort. “Fuck if I know. Synn always handled shit. Or Kittie. Shit. If I didn’t have Kittie right now I’d really be fucked. And not in the good and pleasurable way, obviously.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “So maybe all of this happened for that reason. Think of it as a wake up call like I got two years ago when you and Synn helped me get out of Boston. Just..less suicidal.” He manages to crack a smile and laugh at that last but I don’t.

“That shit ain’t funny, Phil.” I snap at him. “Don’t be joking about you trying to fucking kill yourself.”

“Why not? I’ve moved on and healed from it. I’ve got Maddie now and I’m in a much better place.” He says. “And I’ve got you and Synn to thank for that, too.”

“You still living here?” I quickly ask, wiping that wet shit coming from my eyes.

He shakes his head and says, “No. Maddie and I finally got our own place. But this isn’t about me or Maddie. This is about you.”

I take in a deep breath, lift my head and look towards his car. I can’t even sort out all the shit running through my head. “I don’t know, Phil.” I say, shaking my head and letting out a sigh. “Shit just got way too complicated too fucking quick. I can’t control anything right now. You could just breathe wrong and I’ll fucking snap.”

“You don’t like change. That’s your problem.” He replies and elbows me lightly on my arm. “You just need to be open to change for damn once.” He then pushes himself back to his feet and looks down at me.

“Fuck change.” I growl. And I meant it.

“Look I can’t figure things out for you, bro.” He says, throwing his hands in the air. “You gotta do that for yourself. But what I do need to do is get you the hell off of Synn’s property before he does call the cops. Now stand up.”

“Let him call the fucking cops!” I shout, refusing to stand up but I’m not entirely sure why. “He’s being a stubborn pig-headed asshole, and all I want to do is talk!” Not really, I don’t. Not anymore. So why the fuck did I just say that? Stupid whiskey talking!

Phil lets out a frustrated sigh and with little warning, he smacks the back of my head. “Dude, get the fuck up. Quit acting like a five year old throwing a damn tantrum and get up so I can take you home.”

“Uh, OW!” I say, rubbing the back of my head. “Don’t boss me around, Phil! I’m bigger than you!”

He rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ! How damn old are you?!”

“Almost thirty-eight..” I respond quickly. Fuck! I just admitted my age out loud!

He smacks me on the back of my head again. “Then start acting like it! Do you WANT Synn to call the cops and get your ass thrown in jail? Because I’m not bailing you out and I’m pretty sure Kittie will be pissed if--”

Before he can even finish that sentence I quickly push myself back to my feet, nearly falling back on my ass in the process but I manage to save myself. The earth starts spinning again and I almost feel like the whiskey is going to make its way back up from my stomach but I just let out a loud belch right in Phil’s face. He waves his hand in front of his face and I let out a laugh.

“Hahaha, sorry bro.” I say, looking around.

“Yeah, whatever.” He replies back. “I’ve never seen you move that fast. Kittie must scare the shit out of you.” He says with a laugh.

“You HAVE met Kittie, right?” I ask back.

He laughs and nods. “Yeah I have and you’re lucky as hell to have her. Don’t fuck it up because she does love you. You love her right?”

I nod quickly. “Yeah I do! Would I have asked her to marry me if I didn’t?!” Damn I’m just spilling all sorts of touch feel bullshit. Now I know why I stay away from the hard liquor.

“I don’t know. I’ve never actually heard you say the words so..” He shrugs. “Look, it doesn’t matter right now, ok? Let’s just get you back home so you can sleep this shit off and get back to being the selfish angry asshole that you normally are.”

He pats me on the back and although it wasn’t that hard I nearly lose my footing. “Thanks, Phil. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I’m such an asshole. I guess I’m more like our piece of shit father than I thought.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “You might think so, but you’re not. Just shut up and let’s get out of here. And no getting sick in my car either! I just had it detailed!”

“I know how to hold my liquor!” I say as another belch escapes from my gut. “I won’t ruin your precious car.”

“Good because if you do, you’re cleaning it up.” He responds as we start walking to his car, slowly.

The earth is spinning too much for my liking but he lets me take my time as I take the several steps towards his car. I’m pretty sure I’ll end up passing out in a few minutes, but maybe not. I’m too intoxicated to give a shit and I let him lead the way the entire time. I just hope that Kittie doesn’t hear about this. Then again maybe she should hear about it because she’ll be pissed. And when she’s pissed that leads to one thing.

Some damn good angry sex!

[Jake Sullivan]

 
Sunday April 23rd
Washington DC
After Climax Control
**ON CAMERA**

Tonight was a much better night than last week. Better than the majority of the week has been, actually. I came out and confronted that piece of shit, J2H. I would have liked to get my hands on him, but I’ll save that shit for Into The Void. Some people might not be expecting me to be in that main event at Into The Void, but I’ve made a promise to myself that I fucking am! And I’ll be walking in as the champ, too!

Oh yeah, that’s right. You heard me. Well, ya heard my fucking thoughts, and you saw what Hot Stuff said. I get my fucking rematch in Boston next week. Fuck, of all the damn places, it had to be Boston! Oh well. I’m not gonna think about that shit. I’m just thinking about getting my fucking title back and proving what a worthless piece of shit Jeremiah Hardin is. But, I have to find Kittie, first.

I know she’s here somewhere, but she’s probably pissed at me so she’s hiding. But I need my fucking phone back. I want my phone back! There’s only so many places she could be as I’m looking around backstage, searching for her. I eventually find her just outside the Bombshell locker room talking to Odette. Odette takes on look at me from a distance, whispers something to Kittie and then goes on her way. Shit, even SHE is pissed at me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s married to Gabriel after all.

Once she disappears down the hall, Kittie turns and glares at me, still pissed off. I run my hand over my head and walk up to her, but she says nothing to me.

“Look, I know you’re pissed…” If looks could kill, I’d be burned into ash right now. But, this is a good thing. Because angry sex later will help both of us. “But I just needed to be by myself for a bit so I just fucking left.”

She rolls her eyes and lets out an annoyed laugh. “Oh really?” She says. “So turning up at Synn’s plastered off your ass is being by yourself? And having Phil drive you back home? Save it, Rage. Because I don’t want to hear it.”

This woman is seriously difficult to deal with sometimes, and I’m half tempted to just walk away. But she has my phone. And I really need the angry sex later.

“I’m sorry if I didn’t want to get you in the crossfires of my uncontrollable rage, Kittie.” I snap at her. “Next time I’ll just risk hurting you and then having everyone really hate me for hurting you, even though it would have been unintentional.”

Her hands drop to her sides and I see her clench her fists. Damn, she and I are a lot alike. But I already knew that because it’s part of the reason that I asked her to marry me in the first place.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” She screams at me causing several people to stop and stare at us. I get that we’re not speaking in private, but damn, they could just mind their own damn business.

“Uh, it’s called I wasn’t!” I shout back. “I’ve been seriously pissed off all damn week and mix that with a bottle of whiskey and my ability to really think before I acted or said shit was turned off! If it makes you feel better, Despy slammed the damn door on my hand and I have a nasty bruise to prove it!”

I bring my hand up, showing her the large multi-colored bruise on my hand. She grins and lets out a laugh. “Yeah I heard about that. And good for him. Not good for you because I’m pretty sure Jeremiah will use that against you next week in your rematch!”

I let out a laugh and wave it off. “So? Let him. Trust me when I say NOTHING is going to stop me from taking my title back. The anger I’ve got going on right now? It’ll be like he’s facing ten guys. Not the two or three it felt like facing him last week.”

“There you go getting--” she starts to say but I quickly interrupt her.

“Getting what? Cocky? Arrogant? CONFIDENT?!” I raise my voice. “You’re damn fucking right! After that shit show last week, I’m more than confident that I’ll be walking out of Boston next week as a three time World Heavyweight Champ. And Jeremiah Hardin can fuck off for all I care.”

“All I’m saying is you have a habit of getting overly confident and underestimating people in certain situations. I’m not saying I think Jeremiah will perform at the same level he did last week, because I don’t, but..” She replies.

I let out an angry growl, throwing my hands up in the air. “Jesus Chris, Kittie! You can be maddening sometimes you know that?! I love you, but damn! You frustrate the--”

“What did you just say?” She interrupts me, surprised, and I don’t even realize until the what I just said.

I rub my head, trying to backtrack but I can’t. “Oh don’t act so damn surprised! You’re wearing that damn ring I gave you!” I remind her.

“Yeah no shit.” She says, her jaw still dropped. “But even with as long as we’ve been together I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say those words. Are...are you feeling ok?” She reaches up, placing the back of her hand against my forehead and I swat it away.

“Knock it off!” I say and she laughs. “I’m fine, alright? I’ve just had time to let off a lot of steam this week and I’ve been feeling and saying a lot of shit that I’m not used to. Look, if I didn’t love you I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me.”

This is getting all sorts of weird for me, even though we’re engaged. I’m not used to being so open with my feelings but this last week has fucked me up big time. Fuck you Jeremiah Hardin!

“Well, it’s nice to hear you say the words finally. Asshole.” I glare at her and she cracks a smile and laughs. “Look, can you just not do that shit that you did last week again? I get you were pissed and all, but I didn’t know where the fuck you went! Until Synn called me on Monday.”

“I told you, Kittie. I was pretty damn unstable last week and I didn’t want you to get in the crossfire and have me seriously hurt you.” I admit to her with more sincerity than I’ve ever shown. “Hell, I still sort of am but I need to save it for next week against Hardin, because I’m gonna do everything in my power to get my damn title back.”

“And I hope you do.” She replies. “But you’ve gotta learn to stop being such an asshole sometimes! Especially to me. We’re supposed to be getting married, but you still fucking push me away all the damn time and it’s maddening.”

I grin, once again thinking about the angry sex. “How maddening?” I ask, winking at her.

“Stop that!” She yells at me and I let out a laugh. “I’m being serious here and you’re mind is stuck in the damn gutter!”

“Can you blame me? You enjoy the angry sex as much as I do. If not more.” I wink at her. She punches me in my arm and I laugh again. “Ow! Damn it, relax! I’m just messing with you!”

She folds her arms, unimpressed and looks away. I take a small step closer to her, trying to get serious. “Alright, look. If I was acting like I’m pushing you away it’s because I don’t want a damn distraction or weakness around with however long I have left in SCW. You’re my damn weakness, Kittie.”

She raises an eyebrow. “However long you have left in SCW? The fuck does that mean?!” Of course she’d only hear that part.

“It means I don’t know how much longer I can do this shit.” I confess, almost regretting I had. I’m not even drunk at the moment and I can’t lie. “This run for and with the World Heavyweight title? This one could be my last, Kittie. I need to make the best of it, but I keep fucking up left and right!”

Her eyes widen and her jaw drops. “Oh don’t you go saying that shit! You’ve got plenty of--”

I shake my head and she goes quiet. “No, Kittie, I don’t. I’m almost thirty eight years old for Christ’s sake! I know some guys do this shit well into their forties, but I ain’t gonna be one of them. My bones are already starting to fucking hurt and these new guys coming in are only getting better.”

“So what?” She asks. “You gonna get the title back from Jeremiah and then retire as soon as you lose it the next time? That’s just horse shit.”

I shake my head. “Maybe not as soon as I lose it but..I don’t know. I have to see how it goes. I just want to make the most of this run. And I want to get my hands on J before I call it quits anyway.”

She lets out a sigh and shakes her head. “Whatever. I can’t persuade you to change your mind but regardless of what you say, I’m not letting you do this by yourself. I can stay backstage during your matches,  but I’m coming to the shows with you.” She puts her foot down. I want nothing more than to argue with her, but I hold myself back realizing it will be useless.

“Alright, fine.” I give in, and she smiles at me, satisfied. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry we can’t do the big Sins wedding we were planning.”

She shrugs and waves it off. “Seriously? You don’t need to worry about that. I don’t need some big elaborate wedding. It’s only about the two of us anyway, so we’ll figure it out.”

“I guess we will,” is all I can think of to say back to her. We’re both noticeably calmer now, and I’m slightly disappointed because if she’s not mad, there won’t be any angry sex! Oh wait..I know how to piss her off.

I rub the top of my head, thinking about my trophy room I destroyed in our house. She stares at me, aware that I’m hiding something and immediately calls me out on it. “What? What the fuck is it now?!”

“Well...I should probably tell you now before we head back to Vegas and you find out then…” I start and her eyes quickly narrow at me. “I might have...kind of...did...destroy the trophy room.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!” She yells and I’m secretly grinning inside. “You dumbass! Why the fuck would you do that?! What did doing that shit prove other than you’re an immature asshole?!”

“I was tired of seeing that shit!” I shout back.

“I can’t believe you! Asshole!” She lets out a growl, turns around and disappears into the Bombshell locker room. When the door opens I see no one else is in there, so I follow in behind her, closing the door and locking it behind me. She continues shouting at me with her back turned to me as I just pull my shirt off, knowing that as soon as she turns around, we’ll be back in business...



Everyone saw it. Everyone witnessed what I was up against. And everyone KNOWS that something with Jeremiah Hardin just wasn’t...right...that night. He goes from being eliminated in the Blast From The Past tournament...from putting in little to no fucking effort to win the damn thing even though he CLAIMS he wanted to win the thing so damn bad, to THAT! Let me tell you, that was a whole different Jeremiah Hardin that night and if you ask me...he had a little bit of secret help. Mark Ward and Christian Underwood need to drug test that bitch, because he had more strength than even I did that night and everybody fucking saw it.

This is what I don’t fucking get. And Jeremiah, I hope you’re out there listening. I hope you’re watching this and paying close attention, because that title you have in your possession? MY title? It’s coming back to me after this Sunday and you have only yourself to blame, because you didn’t “shake things up” in the World title scene. Oh no. You awakened the fucking beast inside of me and that...that doesn’t bode well for you buddy.

People have seen your past matches, Jeremiah. They’ve watched them and they’ve seen that you just...turn up when you fucking want to. You fight when you feel like it and the rest of the time it’s like a big FUCK YOU to SCW. To the bosses and to your opponents. You don’t give a shit and in the first round of the Blast From the Past tournament, you proved that. You let your partner down and just didn’t give a shit. But even before that you didn’t give a shit, did you?

I’d faced you two times before that Jeremiah. Two fucking times, and it was the same song and dance. The first was in the King of The Hill Ladder match at Inception. You sure didn’t give a shit about that did you? Because if you DID you would have fought like hell and done everything to get that Golden Briefcase for yourself because it was a guaranteed shot at ANY title ANY time you wanted to cash it in. Pretty big fucking deal if you ask me, but hey, you said...eh, whatever. I don’t want it. I’m just gonna put in no fucking effort and move on.

And then...then I faced you at Blaze of Glory and you know what? It was like you just didn’t show up! You were there physically, but mentally? You were gone, asshole. You treated that match like it was fucking nothing and hey, I did what I did last time and I beat you. Two fucking wins under my belt. And then the Blast From the Past started.

You said you wanted to win it. You acted like you gave a damn, even though you spouted out a bunch of bullshit thinking Brandi was just going to flirt with you or some shit. Newsflash, idiot. If you had done your research, you’d know Brandi has a thing going with Indian boy, Bo Dreamwolf. Jesus Christ, you really must be fucking blind. Or just stupid. Or, as my point to all of this is…YOU JUST DON’T GIVE A SHIT!

So tell me, Jeremiah. Why the change all of a sudden? You’re given a World Heavyweight Title shot that you didn’t fucking deserve. They probably felt sorry for you. Or, they wanted to give me an easy win. Either way, it doesn’t change what the fuck happened does it? You were a whole different person, Jeremiah. It was like you were possessed or some shit. I don’t know. I hear your girlfriend...fiancee...whatever the fuck she is to you, is into some hinky voodoo magic shit. She’s always been more successful than you. I bet she found a way to zap herself into your body and fight for ya, huh? Far fetched, probably, but that’s what it sure as shit seemed like.

People like you aren’t just magically that good overnight, Jeremiah. So stop trying to deny it, because when you’ve been in this business as long as I have, you know the damn truth. Hell, I’m willing to admit I’ve had my shares of ups and downs. I’ve had my good days and my bad days, but you know what? Doesn’t mean I don’t treat each match equally the fucking same and that I bust my ass week in and week out. I put in the fucking effort because it’s my job and because I want Mark Ward, Christian Underwood and everyone else to take me fucking seriously as a competitor.

But you don’t, do you? And that’s what pisses me off more than anything! Guys like you come in and half ass everything and then automatically expect to get anywhere in this fucking business. You bust your ass to win a title and then everything changes. You slack off again and start to fail again, but you think it’s still ok to brag that you even won the title in the first place. I’ve seen it before, and I’ll see it again. I’ll see it real soon because that’s what’s gonna happen with you.

Let’s not forget, you had a little help from J2H, Jeremiah. Oh, don’t worry, he’ll get what’s coming to him soon enough, that much I promise everyone. But you seem to be downplaying his involvement and the fact that had he not stuck his nose where it didn’t belong that night, I would have finished you off right then and there. I was on my way to doing just that, Jeremiah, and we both know it.

You see, I was at a big disadvantage, wasn’t I? Me. A six foot eight, three hundred pound monster was at a disadvantage because it wasn’t like I was just fighting one person. It wasn’t like I was fighting two people. It turned out to be a bit of a three on one handicap situation, and I’ll be fucking DAMNED if I left that shit happen again. You see, people might not like how I won the title in the first place, but at least when all was said and done, I did it all on my fucking own, Jeremiah. Me. I DID IT.

I’m angry, Jeremiah. Pissed off. Furious. Fuming. RAGING FUCKING MAD. And that’s not good for you. I hope you realize that.

I’m going to embarrass you, Jeremiah. I’m going to prove to everyone that your “win” was a fucking joke and that it never should have happened. I’m going to inflict a serious amount of pain on you, Jeremiah, and even if you beg me to stop, I won’t. Because I’m going to make you suffer. All while your “Unc” and your girls in The Fallen are watching backstage, helpless to stop you.

You’ve awakened a dangerous side of me, Jeremiah, and I don’t think you realize that. Because even IF someone tries to help you out by interfering or with some voodoo magic possession like two weeks ago, the beast inside of me...the DEMON inside of me is a lot stronger than anything you assholes can dish out. It’s time for me to correct a mistake, Jeremiah. But not MY mistake, because even though I let myself get distracted by J2H, I could have come back from that. I could have beat you.

If it was just you.

I don’t take too kindly to knowing that you’re carrying around MY title acting like it’s rightfully yours, because it isn’t. It never will be as long as I have anything to say about it, and this week, I’ll have a whole hell of a lot to say about it, Jeremiah. With my words AND my actions, and you can try as much as you want. You can bring your fucking best.

But it won’t be good enough.

You might want to say your I-Do’s with your girl pretty damn quick, Jeremiah. Profess your love and then say your goodbyes, because after I’m through with you, she’ll be planning your funeral. She’ll be walking away a fucking widow while I take MY World Heavyweight Championship back and get back to focusing on much more important matters than a worthless piece of shit like you. You got the best of me once, Jeremiah. That was one fucking time too many.

I promise you it won’t happen ever again. And if I have anything to say about it, this will be the LAST time we square off in the ring. Hell, it’ll be the LAST time anyone ever sees you in an SCW ring at all. I’m done facing the likes of you, Jeremiah. I’m a million fucking times better than you will EVER be and I will prove it this Sunday on Climax Control.

The devil is out for your blood, Jeremiah. And he’s NOT stopping until he spills it all over the six-sided ring.

See you Sunday, mother fucker!