December 9th 2016
Seattle, Washington
Jason Halich’s House
Off-Camera
Kris entered the house ten minutes ago, not surprised to find it dark and quiet. The sun was not even up, so the fact that there were no lights on in the house would have led anyone else to believe that the residents were sleeping. Fortunately, from knowing the occupant for a long twenty-seven years, Kris knew otherwise. He makes his way through the dark rooms and hallways without flipping on a light. He had done so a number of times before, so he knew his way around. There was no danger in falling over something new, or something rearranged, because his brother was not here often enough to do so. However, two days before his first solo match in two years, Kris knew that he would find him here. That is why he was not surprised when he opened up the door leading to the basement and got blinded by the bright florescent lights.
Jason’s basement was not typical in any way. As soon as the door opened, the previously pin-drop silent house was filled with music. The house had been built in such a way that the sound did not travel through the floors. That was true between the main floor, and second floor, but especially true for the basement. When Haley had lived here, it was absolutely necessary to trap noise between levels as they kept alternating schedules. Kris makes his way down the stairs, a handrail the only thing separating him from a drop to the concrete floor. In constructing the house, Jason had demanded that the basement floor sit twenty feet below the ceiling. He had plans for this space, and he delivered on it with his own creativity. Not only did it contain a full gym, and a ring, but also an obstacle course equivalent to that of a Ninja Warrior set, and not the generic American substitute.
Kris had tried to run the course setup faster than his brother on multiple occasions, but always came up short. Half of the gym equipment was set to so much resistance that Kris would spend more time adjusting everything than he would working out. Anybody that had ever met the two of them knew which one of them was the harder worker, and the more determined, but it was never more obvious than in this setting. Kris reaches the bottom of the stairs and pushes back his right sleeve to check his watch. It was only five-thirty. Being that it was Jason, that probably meant that he was already an hour and a half into the day.
Kris steps into the main area of the obstacle course, the music so loud that he could not locate his brother. Instead of wandering around searching, he makes his way to the table resting alongside the final obstacle in the course and picks up the tablet that rests on it. He clicks the screen to life, and presses his thumb to the sensor, unlocking it before spinning the digital sound knob down to zero.
Jason: “What the fuck!”
Kris’ brother comes out from between a few of the obstacles, pulling a towel from his back pocket to wipe at his forehead. He stops when he sees that it was his brother and not technical difficulties that stopped him in the middle of his workout. Kris thought that maybe he would become less annoyed knowing that it was not some flaw in technology, and a real person instead, but his expression does not soften.
Jason: “Is there something I can do for you? Not all of us have the luxury of having the week off. I have a match I need to get ready for.”
Kris laughs and holds his hands up, pleading innocence.
Kris: “Calm down Captain Roid-rage. I just wanted to see what was up. Nobody has really seen or heard from you in a week. We were thinking maybe you pushed yourself so hard up here that you died. You are getting kind of old.”
Jason approaches the table and grabs a bottle of water from it.
Jason: “First, shut up.”
He spins the top off of the bottle and tosses it into the trash pin at the far end of the table before taking a long drink from it.
Jason: “Second, not everyone prepares for matches by blowing a paycheck on smack and then banging random Twitter skanks.”
Kris takes clear offense to not only the words spoken, but the hateful and pointed tone in which they were directed at him. In response, he holds up the index finger of his left hand.
Kris: “That’s one.”
Kris takes a step towards his brother, and rests his hand on his shoulder.
Kris: “You need to calm down. You get too far into your head about this, and it is going to go the way that you fear it going. Bring it down a notch.”
Jason finishes the bottle of water and then slaps his brother’s hand away before tossing the bottle into the same bin as the lid.
Jason: “It has been two years. When we won these titles, I could feel myself getting winded around the halfway point. That is all well and good when there is someone that I can tag in and catch my breath. That was the point of doing this thing together. I thought I would have time to get my form back. Apparently not. I need to cram about three months' worth of prep work into a week. I need to be able to go full speed.”
Kris surveys his brother, trying to figure out exactly how hard he is pushing himself. He was not as observant as his elder, or even the majority of their friends, but something does stick out to him. His eyes track down to his brother’s right knee, which is entirely exposed. The scars surrounding it have faded with age, but were still prominent enough to be a red flag.
Kris: “Where’s your brace?”
Jason laughs, and again towels off his forehead.
Jason: “Full speed, Kris. It would only slow me down. I am not taking the risk of not being ready to go.”
It was the kind of comment that Kris would have expected to hear come out of his own mouth. Mostly because it was stupid, short-sighted, and more dangerous than helped. Jason starts to turn away to get back to what he was doing, but Kris tracks quickly around him to stand in his way.
Kris: “And what happens when you blow your knee out for a third time? Not even in a ring, or at a show, but in your basement of all places? How fast are you going to be able to go then?”
Jason reaches out and places his left hand on Kris’ left bicep before swiping him out of his way. He tries again to go back to what he is doing, but this time Kris reaches, and grabs his shoulder, spinning his brother back to facing him. In response, Jason swings at him, but Kris gets a hand up to swat it away. Jason follows, raising a knee to catch Kris in the stomach, but the younger brother lowers both hands, interlocking his fingers and slamming them down hard on top of Jason’s left knee to avoid. The strength at which the knee is propelled forward causes Kris to take a step backwards. Jason is not letting go though, he takes a step forward to close the gap, He throws another right hand, but Kris leans back, avoiding it, and then grabbing his brother by the arm, and wrenching him into a bent forward position, and then raising a foot to kick the back of Jason’s bad knee, which drops him to both knees on the floor. As soon as his knee hits the concrete, Kris lets his arm go. Jason quickly shifts to be sitting, winded. He looks up at Kris, his eyes on fire.
Jason: “What is your problem?”
Kris laughs, and shakes his head. The audacity of the accusation makes him feel like he is in some kind of alternate reality where they switched personalities. He had never experienced this kind of argument from this side before.
Kris: “We are doing this Jet City thing. We can only keep doing that if you are healthy, and functional. This shit…”
He points down at Jason’s exposed knee.
Kris: “...is going to end Jet City before we actually get going. You need to pull your head out of your ass before you cost us everything we already have, and anything we are going to build.”
Jason shakes his head, and looks down. He pushes up off of the floor, but does not dare plant his right foot flat to the floor. There was a familiar tingling from his knee all the way down to his toes. He was not about to admit that his brother was right though.
Kris: “You want to be a bitch and not talk about what is bothering you? Fine. Just know, that it is not going to be me that fucks this up for us this time. If it falls apart, it is going to be on you. For once, you are going to be the fuck up sibling. I don’t know if you know this, but I am not the type to follow you around and pick you up after everyone breaks you down as a result of it. I am not you. So how about you pry your head out of your ass, and let me go back to making the dumb decisions while you put everything back together. It has worked out pretty well so far.”
Jason laughs, flexing his leg before finally putting it down and putting weight on it. He walks around in a tight circle, testing its durability. When he is satisfied that he is okay, he plants it firmly, resting his hands on his hips and looking at the floor.
Jason: “It is not coming back as quickly as it has in the past. I have pretty clearly lost a step, and I am not sure if I am going to get it back in time.”
Kris holds his arms out to his sides, and shrugs. There is a smile on his face, and a surprising lack of any confusion.
Kris: “What did you expect? You’re getting older. You haven’t even been trying to keep in ring shape for two years. Honestly though, the shit doesn’t even matter.”
Jason raises his gaze to meet his brother’s eyes, and his brow furrows. The confusion that should have been on Kris’ face after the realization was on his own.
Jason: “How do you figure that it doesn’t matter? I step slower means I am behind the ball. It means I am not as good as I used to be. How is that not a bad thing?”
Kris shakes his head, and draws even more irritation from his brother by laughing.
Kris: “Let me ask you a question, when you started out, you were faster and more agile than you are now, right?”
Jason rolls his eyes, not having any interest in playing this game right now. After a few moments of silence though, he comes to the realization that Kris is not going to move on without his participation though.
Jason: “Yes… obviously.”
Kris nods, but that was only the set-up to his point.
Kris: “When you started out, were you someone who had done this job for nine years? Someone that has risen to the top of three different companies? Were you a Triple Crown Champion? Were you in any Hall of Fames? Did you have more championships to your name than you have cabinet space in your house?”
Jason should have seen it coming, but he was too wrapped up in his anger to see where Kris was going before he got there. The short list of his accomplishments that Kris rattles off breaks through that anger and brings a small smile to his face. He tries to play it off though.
Jason: “And?”
Kris closes the distance between them and places his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
Kris: “The step you have lost is more than made up for by the experience you have. You don’t need to be as fast, as agile, as you used to be. Mostly because you are not going to make all of the same mistakes that you did back then. All that excess energy you used to burn fucking up, you don’t need it now.”
Jason shakes his head, laughing at the sentiment. The anger and irritation was starting to fade.
Jason: “You realize you are the least likely source of any kind of pep talk, right?”
Kris shrugs, and fires back.
Kris: “You realize that you are the least likely to make idiot decisions in this family, right?”
Kris points down at his brother’s knee.
Kris: “Get your shit together, and then get back to work. I am going to go watch as much as I can about this guy and we can start game planning after you are done, and wash the not-so-faint smell of ass off of yourself.”
Jason nods, chuckling lightly before moving off towards the weight room where the rest of his equipment was. Kris turns back to the table, spinning the digital sound knob again to blast the music through the basement.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
December 9th 2016
Seattle, Washington
Jason Halich’s House
On-Camera
“Lately I have been feeling a lot like my brother. I mean, I came to this company where my name is a virtual unknown, and walk around with people that know more about him than they do me. I have been making dumb choices in training. I have even been picking fights on Twitter with random people for no reason.”
The scene surrounding the elder half of Jet City is strange to those unfamiliar with him. Behind him is a warped wall, and as the camera pans around him fans can see it is not the only obstacle set up in the room. Anyone that follows him on Twitter will notice immediately that it is the same room he has been posting GIFs of his preparation from.
“I thought that this Jet City thing was going to end up making Kris a little more like me. I didn't realize that the opposite would be true too. Earlier today he even gave me one of my own lectures, and I am sure that I looked at him with the same ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ look that I typically get from him. Tagging with someone is no new thing to me. I have done it all throughout my career. I could list off those names, but they mean nothing here. I am a newcomer, and as such, should be treated like one. The fact remains though. I am in the fight that I am in this week, for the same reasons that Kris ends up in most of his fights. I was trying to make a name for myself here. I was trying to take a big leap out of his shadow to do my own thing in SCW. Now, with Jet City being the big picture, that is not going to realistically happen. I am not going to be chasing down singles titles, or competing in big main events as a solo act. For the most part, I am going to be seen standing side-by-side with the kid brother that I normally look down on. That is going to be what defines me in SCW.”
He laughs, breaking his gaze from the camera to look down and shake his head.
“To think that all anyone has talked about in reference to me all week is how I have been a disrespectful prick to the SCW Heavyweight Champion, who started shit on Twitter is kind of funny. I mean I kind of did just kind of show up and win the SCW Tag Team Championships in my first actual match. That has to count for something, right? I mean it is bad form to come in and talk about things you did elsewhere, like they are supposed to matter. I do not have the problem of being someone that is so new that they have not made an impression on the record books. I did not want to wait to have to be recognized. I went out on my first night and did something worth doing.”
For a while his tone trails more and more serious, and less on the jovial side, but as he finishes he smiles.
“This whole thing started because I changed my name on Twitter to promote a party. J2H was too good to come, so I used my initials to make him out to sound like he was actually second in line. J1H has a nicer ring to it anyways, but that is neither here, nor there. I put myself above the champion, and his butt hurt little sidekick took exception.”
He holds up his hands, palms out to the camera, not wanting anyone to take offense.
“... and yes before I get hounded by the SCW police, I know that Rage has quite the impressive resume here. The guy was the first person ever to hold the title that I am holding now almost five years ago, to the date. I know he has held it since that glorious month way back when. I know that he also went on to have the most wonderful month and a half holding the same title J2H carries around. He has even hung onto that title that my… how did it go?”
Jason pauses and raises his index finger up to his lips and taps it there a few times. His eyes widen as a result of his fake epiphany, and he holds the same index finger up in the air to signify the correct phrase has struck him before he continues.
“… junkie brother, whose coattails I am riding, held onto for a while. The Internet Championship, is it? The one that my brother held onto, as the first title he ever won, for a couple of months, when you could not even hack it for longer than twenty-eight days the first time. You were a former SCW Heavyweight Champion at that point Rage. You were a multi-time tag team champion at that point. You couldn’t manage to hang on to a title longer than the talentless junkie half of Jet City. What does that tell you as you get ready to go up against the smarter, better trained, better looking, and more experienced half of this team?”
Jason shrugs, demanding a verbal answer from a person not physically there to give one. He gives it time to set in, only for his expression to shift to one of disappointment when no reply comes.
“I will tell you what you are going to do. You are going to do the same thing you did against Sean Williams and Wyatt Peterson. The same thing you did against Dmitri, Despayre and Nick Jones. You are going to walk in, confident that you are going to win, and you are going to limp out without a damn thing to your name. That latter part though, you are going to do that after having someone beat your ass, and walk away with a title held above their head. Sure, this match has nothing to do with a title, but I thought you could easily relate to the visual.”
He laughs and moves across to the table holding all of his ring gear. There is a bag on the table, and he starts tossing everything into the bag.
“You came to me on Twitter and told me that I was less important than the number one champion in this company. Those were your words, not mine. For that small portion of our back and forth, having a title in his possession put him above other people on the roster. Once you realized that I was one half of the tag team champions, all of a sudden having a title was no longer an important thing. All of a sudden, a person’s past accomplishments and contributions to SCW meant more than anything, and since I have only been around for the blink of an eye I wasn’t worth shit. The way that you flipped your argument to attempt to save face was sloppy and laughable. So let me remind you one thing……”
He finishes tossing everything into the bag and zips the top of it up. He picks it up by the long strap connected to both ends, and hangs it over his shoulder.
“I didn’t approach you for this fight. I didn’t come after you on Twitter. I didn’t call you out. I didn’t even know you existed before you put yourself in front of me, because I am still relatively ignorant on the names and faces of this company. You were the one that took offense. You were the one that tweeted me in defense of the ass your lips are glued to. You were the one that got bent out of shape and hostile. You made this match happen. So the only person that you get to blame when you lose, and have to watch, heartbroken, when my arm gets raised at the end of the match, is yourself.”
He takes a step towards the camera and raises his hand out of the frame, hovering over the button to switch it off. He looks directly into the lens first, speaking directly to Rage.
"I never expected that I would be standing one-on-one in the middle of a ring again. I thought this time was going to be Jet City, Jet City, and even more Jet City. You said that I was riding my brother's coattails. Now you get to be the first one to find out that Kris is not even close to being on my level. That is something that the two of you have very much in common. I would wish you good luck, but I have made enough jokes. I would give you a little catchphrase about an ambulance, but I am the wrong Halich for that. Instead, I will leave you with this one piece of advice."
He smiles widely.
"Next time you want start a fight with your keyboard, do a little research on the person before you click that send button. That way you will not make getting your ass kicked a habit in the upcoming weeks.
He flips the switch on the side of the camera and the feed cuts off.
