The trip home to Las Vegas was not only a long one, but a quiet one. Way too quiet, in fact. Kittie wanted to say something to Rage, her new husband of just a few days. But what could she possibly say to him after he lost the World Heavyweight Championship...again? Granted, he didn’t lost it to Jeremiah Hardin this time, nor was he the one that was defeated in that fatal four way match. But, he still wasn’t able to do what it took to keep the title in his possession.
And it left him speechless. Which was strange. Too strange.
Normally when things like this happened to Rage, it brought out his anger in full force. After losing the title to Jeremiah Hardin just a few weeks ago, it left his anger at an unstable level and on any given moment he was unable to control it. But he thought when it all came down to it, he thought his third run with the World Heavyweight Championship would be different. He thought this would be his moment...his summer.
But he was wrong.
It’s been just a little over twenty-four hours since Into The Void ended with J2H celebrating winning the title for a second time. Rage and Kittie are just walking back into their home in Las Vegas, not saying a single word. Rage drops their suitcases on the floor just by the door, not even bothering to carry them upstairs to their bedroom. He just sulks over to the refrigerator, opens it and takes out an ice cold beer, all while Kittie just stares at him.
He twists the cap off the beer, tosses it in the trash and takes a drink before he stops just at the center island in the kitchen. He sets the bottle of beer down on the counter and just stares at it, as the long silence continues between him and his new bride.
Kittie: Ok. I can’t take this silence any longer. Would you say something? Please?
He looks up at her, disappointment written all over his face. They should be celebrating right now. Not going through these emotions he was currently going through.
Rage: What do you want me to say, Kittie? There’s really nothing to say right now.
Kittie: You still have a rematch clause. This isn’t the end.
He lets out a laugh and takes another drink of his beer, walking around the counter and over towards Kittie.
Rage: I really don’t want to talk about it right now, Kittie. Actually, I don’t want to talk about it ever. So...just drop it.
Kittie: You’re kidding, right? You’re just...giving up?
He doesn’t say anything back to her. In fact, his next move almost shocks her, as it’s not something he’s ever done. He leans down and kisses her forehead and then walks away. Her jaw drops and she turns around and watches as Rage disappears downstairs, still drinking his beer. She brings her hand up to her forehead and finally picks her jaw up off the floor as she leans against the counter, trying to process what just happened.
Meanwhile downstairs, Rage is standing just outside what is left of his “trophy room.†The room that, just a few weeks ago, he destroyed. He hadn’t bothered to clean up after going completely insane in the room and demolishing every reminder of every accomplishment he had achieved throughout his career. He takes in a deep breath as he reaches his hand inside the darkened room and flips the light switch on the wall.
He stands in the doorway and looks around the mess he left, and takes another drink of his beer. He steps inside and closes his eyes, trying to feel something...anything. But he’s frozen.
His eyes burst open seconds later and he continues to stare around the room and what he had done. He looks down at the beer in his hand, and tries to will himself to just throw it against the wall. He wants to hear the shattering of glass. To feel the high from the destruction that follows.
But he can’t.
Rage: What the hell is wrong with me?!
Kittie: That’s what I’d like to know.
Kittie’s voice startles him and he spins around quickly, dropping his beer in the process. He doesn’t even think anything of it as he stares at her. She’s looking at the room for the first time since he destroyed it.
Kittie: You weren’t kidding when you said you destroyed this room. Do you at least feel better?
Rage shakes his head as he looks around the room.
Rage: No, I don’t. I...I don’t know what’s wrong with me Kittie. I lost the title...again...and I’m angry about it but...I can’t do fucking express it.
Kittie: You’re acting like that’s a bad thing.
Rage: This isn’t right Kittie. I’m not used to feeling all this shit.
Kittie steps over a pile of broken memorabilia and walks up to Rage.
Kittie: Look, I never thought I’d be the one to say this, but you don’t NEED to be so angry all the time. It’s ok to be calm every now and then.
Rage brings his hands up and squeezes the top of his head growing frustrated.
Rage: It’s not okay, Kittie! Not for me! It’s ruining shit for me in SCW now and I don’t know what the fuck to do.
Kittie: Dude, it’s only been twenty-four hours since Into The Void. You don’t have to have everything figured out right this second. Just take this guaranteed week off and fucking relax. That’s your problem. You worry about shit way too soon and you can’t ever seem to relax. You’ll give yourself a damn heart attack before you even turn forty!
Under normal circumstances, Rage would shoot a look at Kittie that could kill her in two seconds flat, but now? Now his head is shaking furiously as he keeps his eyes closed, trying to figure things out.
Rage: You don’t understand, Kittie. You just...don’t.
Kittie: Then HELP me to understand! We got married last week for Christ’s sake! I’m your wife now so just fucking talk to me! For once!
He continues shaking his head and his eyes burst open and he stares at Kittie. His eyes are filled with panic and his hands drop back down to his side.
Rage: You don’t...You can’t...You won’t.
He quickly stops making any sense when he speaks. Kittie reaches out to grab his arm, but he yanks it away and rushes past her and out of the room. Her jaw drops and she turns around just in time to hear the door upstairs slamming shut. She stands there for a few moments, blinking and then turns around, looking at all of Rage’s trophies and memories destroyed. She shakes her head, takes in a deep breath and then walks out, turning the light off behind her.
I...I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me. I thought for sure the devil inside me...the part of me that takes over in times like this...I thought for sure that side would come out. Help me figure out my next move and hopefully come up with some sort of plan of attack in regaining the World Heavyweight Championship.
But...I can’t feel that part of me anymore.
I’m angry, yeah, but...this is different. This is completely unfamiliar to me and I don’t know how the fuck to deal with this. J2H is once again parading around with the title, making his jokes and spouting off the “I Told You So’s†and now as the winner of the Blast From The Past Tournament, Lord Raab will get his shot at the title at Summer XXXTreme.
Fuck...this is not how this was supposed to go. This is not how I’m supposed to be feeling right now.
I can get the World Heavyweight title back. I know I can, whether or not everyone else believes I can. But...do I even want it anymore? I may be a three time World Heavyweight Champion, but every single “run†I’ve had with the title hasn’t gone how I’ve expected it to. So...do I really want to put myself through that shit again? Do I really want to make myself into a further embarrassment than I already am?
Fuck if I know. This is the first time in my life where I haven’t got a fucking clue what to do next.
I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore.
Fast forward to a week later, and the week off should have been a much needed and welcomed time for rest and relaxation. But it was far from that. Rage and Kittie should be enjoying the first couple of weeks as a married couple, but instead, they’ve barely spoken. And while Kittie wants to speak to him, she also wants to give him his time and space to figure things out and hopefully come to his senses.
But he hasn’t.
Kittie is currently in the kitchen making dinner for the both of them, but Rage is nowhere to be seen. She looks up every once in awhile and shakes her head, before she looks back down at the pan on the stove, stirring whatever she is making. She walks away from the stove for a moment when the sound of the door leading to the patio and pool area is heard opening. She turns her attention to the door, where Rage is seen stumbling inside the house.
He’s in just a pair of shorts and his eyes are barely open as he trips and stumbles over to the refrigerator. He grabs not one but two beers and twists the cap off of one, taking a huge gulp. Kittie shakes her head.
Kittie: Don’t you think you’ve had enough?
He doesn’t look at her. He shakes his head and then lets out a loud and disgusting belch.
Rage: Nope...
He then starts heading right back to patio door.
Kittie: Food will be ready soon. It would do you some good to eat something to soak up all the booze you’ve been drinking.
Rage laughs and shakes his head as he steps out into the pool area without saying another word. Kittie closes her eyes and growls. She heads back over to the stove and quickly shuts off the burner before she turns around and grabs her cell phone off of the counter. She goes through her contacts until she finds the number she is looking for and then hits send.
Kittie: Please don’t be working...Please don’t be working...
She almost expects the call to go to voicemail but her face lights up a few seconds later as the person on the other end answers.
Kittie: Oh thank fuck! Phil, are you busy right now?...Good. Look, I know this is a lot to ask, but I need your help right now...I know, Phil. I get that you two haven’t been on speaking terms lately, but he’s not doing too good right now...I’ve tried. I really have. But I don’t think I can do this shit by myself...Could you head over here and just help me try and get through to him?...Thanks, Phil. I owe you one...Alright, see you soon.
She lets out a sigh as she looks out by the pool. Rage is sitting on one of the large lounge chairs, working on his second beer now and he lets out another loud belch. Kittie shakes her head as she waits for Phil to get there.
She doesn’t wait too long, as within ten minutes, Phil’s car is pulling into the driveway. Kittie opens the door as Phil is walking up to the house. She has her left hand showing on the edge of the door, and when he walks inside, he spots the new wedding ring on her finger.
Phil: Did you two get married??
She nods.
Kittie: Yeah. While we were in New York. Look, we can talk about that later. We just need to get out there and talk to him.
Phil: Where is he?
She points towards the patio door and out by the pool.
Kittie: Sitting by the pool. Drunk.
Phil: Again?! Shit, why do I have to be the one to rescue him when he’s drunk?!
Kittie: This never used to be a problem, Phil. But something has changed recently. I’m not going to sit back and let him turn into some stumbling alcoholic and really ruin everything. He’s your brother. I know you’re mad at him, but he needs you. He needs us both. He has a match against James Tuscini in six days that I haven’t told him about yet and he’s not going to listen to me alone.
Phil sighs and shakes his head.
Phil: Alright. I’ll give it a shot, but you know as well as I do how stubborn he is. This might not work.
Kittie: We at least need to try.
Phil nods and makes his way towards the patio door, with Kittie right behind him. He slides open the door and steps out onto the deck. Rage is snoring loudly in the lounge chair, with a near empty beer bottle in his hand, ready to drop to the ground. Phil shakes his head as he walks up to the chair, and snatches the bottle out of his hand. Rage doesn’t move an inch as he keeps snoring away. Phil lightly kicks his leg.
Phil: Rage...
No answer. Kittie folds her arms and shakes her head and Phil kicks Rage again.
Phil: Rage...
Again nothing. Phil closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. When he opens his eyes, he leans down and smacks Rage hard across his head.
Phil: JAKE!
Rage bolts upright in the chair, looking around in a panic. He damn near falls out of the chair as Kittie and Phil stare at him with angry glares on their faces.
Rage: Huh?!
He looks towards Phil and Kittie and calms down, sinking back in the chair.
Rage: What are you doing here, Phil?
He closes his eyes prepared to fall back asleep, but Phil kicks his legs again, trying to keep him awake.
Phil: I’m here to help you, asshole. What the hell is going on with you lately?
Rage laughs as he looks up at Phil. Kittie remains quiet, hopeful that Phil can get through to his brother.
Rage: Nothing is going on, little bro. I’m just fine. Go back home to Maddie.
Phil: You’re NOT fine, Jake. You’re a mess. What the hell is going on?
Rage rolls his eyes and then turns his attention to Kittie.
Rage: You didn’t have to call him, Kittie. I’m fine. I just need time to figure shit out.
Kittie: Oh really? How much time exactly, because you’ve got a match coming up in six days and you’re still a mopey mess.
Rage arches an eyebrow.
Rage: A match? Against who?
Kittie bites her bottom lip, hesitant to tell him. He sits up quickly, staring at her impatiently.
Rage: Who the fuck am I facing, Kittie?!
Kittie: James Tuscini...
Rage starts laughing and shaking his head. Kittie and Phil briefly glance at one another before turning and staring back at Rage.
Phil: What is so funny?
Rage looks up at Phil.
Rage: You want to know what my problem is? You want to know what is so funny?! THAT is fucking funny, Phil. That match is a fucking joke! I’m a fucking joke!
Kittie: Rage...
Kittie tries to get through to Rage but he shoots her a look that could kill.
Rage: Don’t, Kittie. Don’t even try and make me feel better about this shit, because it’s not gonna work. I go from being in the main event to facing a weird ass Italian dumbass like James Tuscini?!?! Fuck that shit.
Kittie goes to respond but Phil turns towards her, holding his hand up.
Phil: Kittie, do you mind giving me a few minutes to talk to him alone? I know you two are married now, but I’d like to talk to him alone for a second.
Kittie throws her hands up in the air.
Kittie: Fine by me. Maybe he’ll listen to you. Clearly he won’t listen to me and I’m his damn wife!
She turns and storms off back inside the house and Rage watches her. He has an almost remorseful look on his face and when he looks back up at his brother, Phil is glaring at him angrily. Rage lets out a laugh.
Rage: What the hell is your problem? You don’t have shit to be angry about.
Phil smacks Rage upside the head again.
Rage: What the fuck?! Stop that!
Phil: Maybe once you stop being such an asshole I will! Kittie is your wife, man! And you’re just going to sit here and act like this? Get over yourself!
Rage: I am over myself, Phil! I’m fucking over it all, because I don’t have shit anymore!
Rage flinches as Phil tries to smack him again, but Phil stops himself short this time.
Phil: What? So just because shit in SCW isn’t going so well right now, you think you don’t have shit? I think you’re pretty damn lucky to have a woman like Kittie putting up with you and your bullshit. So don’t say you don’t have shit, because you have her.
Rage: If she was smart she’d just go running. I’m an embarrassment to her anyway.
Phil laughs and rolls his eyes. He kicks the empty beer and other liquor bottles all around the chair as he continues to glare at Rage.
Phil: But she isn’t, so what does that tell you, huh? Seriously, Jake...
Rage: Would you stop calling me Jake?! Fuck!
Phil: No, I won’t. Because, regardless of this whole act you put on, Jake is who you are. And it’s who you always will be. Rage is just a God damned mask. A mask that you should just get rid of if you ask me, because it’s just going to destroy you sooner rather than later.
Rage laughs and shakes his head.
Rage: I wouldn’t be so sure about that one, Phil. It seems like Rage decided to go on a nice long vacation.
Phil: Not from where I’m standing he didn’t. Man, do you even know who the hell you are anymore?
Rage stares up at his brother, who quickly changes his demeanor. After a few moments, Rage lets out a sigh and shakes his head, lowering it as he looks to the ground and brings his hands up to his head.
Rage: I don’t know, Phil. I really fucking don’t. And now I’m just dragging Kittie right down with me.
Phil: No, you’re not. She’s here because she wants to be, but it seems like you’re trying to push her away. Which is pretty damn confusing considering you went and got married in New York.
Rage: Because I thought I could fucking make her proud, man. I thought I could actually defend the damn title and be a good champion for once. I’ve been wrong about so much shit lately.
Phil takes in a deep breath and pulls another chair up closer to Rage. He sits down so he’s eye level with Rage, and tries to be understanding with him.
Phil: Look, you need to think long and hard about what it is that you want and what you are doing. But, you can’t shut Kittie out. She believes in you, but because you’re going through a bit of a slump, you’re just ready to give up. She said you’re facing that Tuscini guy this week?
Rage nods and laughs again.
Rage: I guess so. Like I said, it’s a fucking joke.
Phil: Joke or not, don’t treat it like it is. If you want to continue with your career in wrestling, you need to just get serious about it again.
Rage: I’ve been serious about it Phil!
Phil shakes his head.
Phil: Not serious enough. You know what your biggest problem is?
Rage stares at him, slowly shaking his head even though he had a feeling he knew what Phil was about to say.
Phil: Your God damn temper. You’re letting it get the best of you.
Rage: Do I look like it’s getting the best of me, Phil?! I couldn’t even whip a fucking beer bottle against the wall last week no matter how pissed I got!
Phil: You’re letting it get the best of you because you think you need to do shit like that to get anywhere. You don’t! It’s dragging you down and fast.
Rage closes his eyes and keeps a grip on his head, growing more and more frustrated.
Rage: It’s who I’ve been for so fucking long, Phil. It’s who I fucking am!
Phil shakes his head.
Phil: It’s NOT who are you are, Jake. And it doesn’t have to be. I don’t know what it’s going to take for you to realize that, but you need to figure it out. You’re not a bad guy, but you have it in your head that you need to be for whatever reason. Just...get over it.
Phil pushes himself back to his feet and Rage looks up at him, almost sadly.
Rage: Where are you going?
Phil: I have a girlfriend to get back to and I have to work tonight. If you can’t get over this shit alone, Jake, at least let Kittie help you. She deserves that much.
Rage: I’m sorry, Phil...
Phil: Don’t apologize to me. You’re not doing anything to hurt me. You’re only hurting yourself...and Kittie. Just figure out who you are. Make your life and Kittie’s easier than this shit, because it’s not fair to either of you.
Rage lets out a sigh and just nods. Phil pats his brother on the shoulder before he turns and heads back inside the house. Rage stays out there for several minutes, thinking about everything his brother just said to him. He buries his head in his hands and kicks some of the empty bottles away from him in frustration.
So this is what it has come down to, huh? This is what I’m being reduced to? Mid card status facing guys like James Tuscini? Fucking ridiculous. Fucking pathetic, honestly. How could I let this happen?
I had it all! I was right where I wanted to be...where I should be! I worked my ass off for so fucking long and I finally made it back to the main event level and to the World Heavyweight Championship. I was the fucking champion, and now? I’m fucking nothing and facing James Tuscini!
Oh but James Tuscini isn’t someone to take lightly, right? He’s not completely worthless, right? He’s actually a pretty tough opponent because he held the Roulette Championship for how long? He’s made a pretty big impact in the year that he’s been here, so it shouldn’t be that big a deal facing him, right?
Fuck off with that shit! James Tuscini is worthless. James Tuscini is laughable at best, and being put up against him goes to show just what everyone thinks of me now, doesn’t it? Here Rage...here’s your punishment for losing the World Heavyweight Championship two times within a matter of a month. Face a member of the Blood Legion or whatever the fuck they’re calling themselves.
Let me tell you what facing James Tuscini is going to be like. Some people think I’m boring, but if you ask me, they need to sit and watch a James Tuscini promo because that shit...that is painful on so many fucking levels. Half the time I don’t even know what he’s saying, because I can’t even focus when I’m watching. Not that I’ve ever had a reason to watch, because I’ve never even faced the guy. Not that I can remember anyway.
What does that say, huh? I can’t even remember if I’ve ever faced him, meaning he ain’t that damn memorable to begin with. And I still can’t believe I have to face him as it is! I honestly have no fucking clue what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know if this shit is worth it, because if I’m just going to be degraded and facing guys like James Tuscini or hell, worse than him, what the fuck is the point anymore?
But Kittie and Phil think I should get it over with and just keep at it. Go into this match and not look at it as a joke or an embarrassment in any way. Right...like that is even possible. While I have to face James Tuscini, I have to sit back and watch Lord Raab and J2H fight over a title that should still be mine.
Or should it? I don’t even fucking know! All I know is that I wasn’t ready to give it up and walk away. My body isn’t ready to call it quits and find something else to do for a living, but everything else is telling me maybe it is. Maybe this match against James Tuscini should be my last?
Maybe...just maybe.
And if it is my last...I need to make the most of it go out on a high note. Go out with a fucking win, because there ain’t no way I’m going to let myself lose to some annoying Italian shithead.
I just can’t…
