Author Topic: O'Malley v Brother David  (Read 1809 times)

Offline SCW Staff

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O'Malley v Brother David
« on: November 08, 2020, 02:32:31 PM »
Post all roleplays for this match here.

Limits: One roleplay per week, 10,000 words max.

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Offline The Good Shepherds

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Re: O'Malley v Brother David
« Reply #1 on: November 19, 2020, 12:36:01 AM »


The Origin Story (Pt 1)
Tulsa, OK; August 27th, 2013


I remember it like it was yesterday.  The moment everything happened.  I was on my knees, looking up at the cross before me, and I felt something stir inside of me.

Wait, let me back up a little bit, because there’s way more to the story that I need to get to.

Two weeks before this moment, I found myself in some dimly lit club I’d never heard of before, meeting up with some friends for drinks.  I know I was only 17, but if you knew my dad back then, you would know that this was nothing new for any of us.  I’m wearing my leather pants, a red and black tank top over a fishnet shirt.  And lots of glow sticks all over my body.  I have a pacifier in my mouth that blinks red, along to the beat of the music.  Oh yeah, and I’m feeling sensations I’ve never felt before.  The sweat of a dozen other people drips down my body as I dance to the music.

My phone is on vibrate, so I don’t hear it when my friend tries to call me.  I feel it, but at this point, it’s hard to tell what I’m actually feeling, and what the drugs are doing to my body.  Jerry and Tom brought me here tonight, but they found their way to some older gentlemen who should not have been wearing leather vests and chaps over tight jeans.  But, you could see exactly how fat their wallets were, so I understood what was going on.  I later found out that they went viral, in more ways than one, via XTube and HPV.

They told me that Jack was going to be there tonight, but he was not.  At first, he was running late, and then he just never texted or called… until I had already decided to numb the pain in other ways.  I was riding the bull when I started to lose control.  I stumbled back against the wall, and my vision started to blur.  I fell down to the floor, feeling overheated.  I tried to ask for water, but everyone just nodded their heads and laughed, because they knew what I had done.  It’s almost funny how ignorance and sin go hand in hand.

But that was not the wake up call.  No, not by a long shot.  What woke me up, I still don’t know exactly.  I just remember waking up in a puddle of my own vomit, next to several used rubbers and empty bottles of Southern Comfort and Jack Daniels.  When I looked over next to me, there was a man who was about my dad’s age, in all of his naked glory, pale skin practically glowing in the morning sunlight.

His face was dripping with vomit too, and I can’t honestly say whose it was.  All I know is that I got up and left, and swore that this secret would go to the grave with me.  I took oaths a lot less serious back then.  Turns out, Harold Lemann died in his sleep, choking on his own vomit.  And without getting into the gory details, I had a bit of a battle with the law.  My DNA was very present, and there was no denying that I was there the moment he died.

Shame filled me, and I almost couldn’t stand to bare the Shepherd name.  And at that time, that really said something, because my whole family was victim to their own personal vices, except little Esther. She hadn’t been screwed up yet, or so we thought.  My family damn near booted me out of our home.  I got called every name in the book, no matter how much I swore I was not one of those fairies.

Turns out, I was.  Was, being the key word.  I was plagued by my own vice, just like my daddy and his liquor and weed, and my momma and her pain pills.  My vice was lust.  Lusting for men.  Just days before the moment I spoke of at the beginning, I found myself on my knees, crying, and begging for God to help me through this.  If this went to trial, I would be tried as an adult.  I was in it deep.  I asked Him to cleanse me of my sins.  I accepted Him as my Lord and Savior.  I was literally down on my knees, willing to throw myself at His mercy.  And why should he listen to me?  A possibly murderous homosexual, deranged thanks to the use of illegal and immoral substances.  Why would I deserve any kind of mercy?

Because I truly meant it.  I asked for forgiveness, and He gave it.  I asked for mercy, and a new lead in the case put someone else there, and they admitted to the whole thing.  Epicac oil in the Jack.  I slept on my side, Harold did not.  I realized at that very moment as I stared up at the cross, that I had truly been saved.  And dad told me all about his conversation with an up and coming author, now known for his famous book, Yes You Can.  He brought me to this old, dusty building, just begging for us to help breathe some life into God’s temple.  And boy did we ever.  More than just a new coat of paint.  Splintered hands from refinishing the cross I’m kneeling before, and the pews.  We put our hearts and our souls into it, even as momma laid up in the attic with Ginny, detoxing from the pain pills.  And once we were ready to open those doors, momma was right as rain.

We put our vices aside to set a good example for Esther.  To be better people ourselves.  To spread the message of God to the masses.  But now I’m getting too ahead of myself.  I’m down on my knees, praying with everything I’ve got, thanking the Lord for his mercy, when I feel a hand on my shoulder.  I turn back to see dad standing there.

Gerald:  You’re doin’ great, son.  Just five more minutes kneeling on that rice, and God will have forgiven you.

Me:  Just five?  I feel like I owe so much more than that, father.

Dad smiled.  He rubbed my shoulder and allowed me to pay my penance for as long as I felt it right.

Gerald:  You’re a good boy, David.  Honestly.  You just got tangled up with the wrong crowd.  People who wanted to see you stoop to their level.  Misery loves company, and in this world, we’re all in good company.  That is, until we reach up and ask for His help.

Me:  Amen.  He has delivered me from the hellfire, by His own divine mercy.  I’m not worthy of His mercy.

And that’s when dad stopped rubbing my shoulder.  He knew I would not get up yet, because three hours kneeling on rice was not nearly long enough to atone.  He knelt down and tilted my head to look at me.

Gerald:  You stop that right now.  Jesus himself muddled through the crowds of sinners, saving them. Don’t you think that he can forgive us our trespasses, son?

Me:  I…

I paused.

Gerald:  He chose me, for whatever reason, to speak through.  He chose you, your momma, Esther, Ginny, and Andrew to spread his message.  He brought us together through trials and tribulations so that we could become strong enough to carry that burden.  As long as you can keep yourself out of the arms of another man, you can handle it.  Long as I can keep the bottle away, I know I can handle it.

I looked up into his eyes and there was no taking “no” for an answer.  I nodded my head because I didn’t even have the words to speak at the time.  Dad got up and left me to it.  And when I saw the literal glow of the glory of the cross, it made all the pain, all the suffering, all too worth it.  I shed a tear.  After a couple more hours in silent prayer, I got up.  The rice was embedded in my knees, and blood trickled from the punctures.  I stumbled through the pain, because it was all too worth it.  I heard a commotion downstairs in the basement of the church, and I made my way downstairs.  And what I saw, I just couldn’t believe.  A wrestling ring.

I was confused. I was excited. I was terrified. I was… happy.  My dad took me under his wing, and he trained me how to fight.  And not the way he had ten years earlier when his only advice was “Kick ’em in the nuggets” or “punch 'em dead center in the nose”.  He had taken much time to teach himself the art of professional wrestling, and he shared all of his tricks with me.  He had mom do the same, and she shared her tricks with Esther and Ginny.  We were one big happy family… until we came to Sin City…






Conflicted Faith
November 15th, 2020; Saxon Hotel - Las Vegas, NV


Why do I always do this to myself?  God has a purpose for me, and it’s so much greater than I can even dream.  So why do I always yearn for the past?  The way things used to be?  It’s good to remember one’s roots, but if you’re not careful, you’ll wind up going into the clay, and you might never get out.

Yet, here I stand, in front of room 2702 of the Saxon Hotel, debating on whether or not I should knock on the door.  I smell that old familiar smell of weed trickling from under the door, and I find myself in silent prayer for Esther.  Never once do I doubt my own faith, but I find myself wondering why Esther wasn’t strong enough to resist temptation.  She was the most pure of us all.

Before I have the chance to knock on the door, a strange man pushes a yellow GRIME mask over his face.  I don’t even get to see his face in time to make out whether I know them or not.  They laugh and step to the side for me to enter.  A firm grab of the buttocks gets my attention before he leaves and closes the door.

Andrey:  Brother!  Welcome to our humble abode.  Please, make self comfortable.

I glare at the man who was responsible for my sister’s fall from grace.  She is curled up in his lap, moaning as she turns to look at me.  A sheepish smile comes over her face.

Esther:  David…! Did you finally see the light?

Me:  I saw the light seven years ago. When I fell to my knees in front of the cross for the first time, and truly believed in what father was saying. When I saw his miracles before my very eyes.

Esther:  Bullshit. I call bullshit. You got lucky, and daddy dearest talked you into believing that it was a sign to not be yourself.  To choke back who you really are.

I find myself getting angry, and as much as I try not to yell, I know that I won’t make it out of this room without shouting at her.

Me:  Who I am is not who I was. I was an unrepentant sinner.  I lived this life that you’re clinging to right now, only I found myself in the company of other men.

Esther:  Too ashamed to be yourself. Look, I’ve tried just about everything once at this point, and I can assure you, I have yet to burst into flames with my soul ripped down to the fiery pits of hell.  You’re buying into a bunch of hogwash, brother.

Andrey:  And who is to say company of others, man or woman, or man and woman, or man and man, or woman and woman, or…

I hold my hand up because I can literally feel my stomach churning as he speaks.  His eyes dancing across my body, and my own sister just letting it happen. It’s enough to make me sick.

Me: I get the picture.  You better be lucky that I don’t walk over there right now and drag your worthless ass off of that couch and teach you a thing or two about fighting, and not just throwing hands.

Andrey:  We can teach each other many things, brother-in-law. Many, many things.  But to teach someone, their minds must be open to learn.  Your father has minds closed all around him.

Esther:  I love it when you talk bad about my dad…

Esther turns over and slides up Andrey’s body.  She wraps her arms around his neck and she begins kissing on him. I’m at a complete loss.  I… I… just don’t know what to do.  I walk over and I pull my sister off of her husband and turn her around to look at me.

Esther:  What the hell, David?

Me:  Exactly!  What the hell is going on here?  The things shared between a man and his wife is meant strictly for bearing children, and strictly for behind closed doors.

Andrey:  Doors are closed. Maybe man and his wife can share you? And we can learn a few things?

Esther:  Andrey!  Gross. This isn’t the 1700’s, nor is it Arkansas. But, boys will be boys, and I gotta take a piss and check my Twitter. I never get on that fucking thing, so I might be a while.

Esther sneers at me. I think part of her knows that I never would.  But another part of her wants to exploit my greatest sin and my greatest vice to punish me for being the favored child of our father.  She disappears into the bathroom, so tactless, and reminding me of our mother before our revelation. I glare over at Andrey as I sit back down on the couch.  He slides a bottle of vodka in my direction, but I ignore it.

Me: I don’t even really know why I’m here.  It wasn’t to break bread with you, heathen.

Andrey shrugs and takes the bottle back.  He unscrews the cap and drinks at it like water.  He slams it down on the table and shakes his head as he screws the cap back on.

Andrey:  I think you know more than you realize, brother.

Me:  I am not your brother.  One day, Esther will see what she is to you, and what you do to her, and she will come back to us.

Andrey:  If being loving husband, full of adventure and excitement, who wants only to see her real self makes me bad person, then slap cuffs on wrists now.

Andrey puts both fists down on the table, glaring at me to handcuff him.  Part of me wonders if it’s a euphemism or if he’s being sincere about loving my sister.

Andrey:  I will not apologize for loving your sister, ever.  To set someone free is most loving thing one can do. To unlock the chains around heart and let run wild is love. Not putting locks and chains around hearts. One thing O’Malley said which is much truth.

Me:  Trying to save someone’s eternal soul is the hardest thing to do.  Love is hard, and it takes discipline.  It’s painful, but it’s for one’s own good.

Andrey smiles as if indulging a child who doesn’t understand what he’s saying.  He reaches across the table to put his hand on top of mine.

Andrey:  If this is how you love, then you are doing love wrong, brother.

I pull my hand away and glare across the table at Andrey.  He looks sad for me.  How dare he look that way at me. I don’t need or want his pity.  I get up from the couch and he gets right up with me.  He steps in front of me before I can do the same to him.  I go to push him, but he grabs onto my wrist and stares with those cold, dead blue eyes.  But, they aren’t actually that dead.  There’s a spark in the back of them, signifying life.  But it’s not enough for me to care.

Me: I love just fine, thank you.  I’m an engaged man, so I must be doing something right.  And if you ever dare to insult my father again, or call me your brother, I will break you in half.

Andrey:  You can try your best, David.  I’ll be waiting for this moment.

Esther:  Are you guys done yet? I forgot no one ever gets on Twitter except Kelli Torres, H.B. Carter, and Dave’s Characters!

Esther peeks from behind the door to see that we’re fully clothed, and she enjoys watching me tense up in anger.  She moves in front of Andrey and wraps her arms around my neck, giving me a peck on the cheek.

Esther: I love you, bro. But you really do need to loosen up.  Just because you replaced random dicks with a giant stick up your ass doesn’t mean eternal salvation. You’ll see that soon enough.

And just like that, without realizing it, I’m outside of the hotel room door.  I don’t know if I walked outside by myself, or if she pushed me, or even worse, if he pushed me.  But, there I stand, cold and alone.  More alone than I’ve felt in quite some time.  And the sinister chill going down my spine just screams… something that I can’t comprehend. And that’s when I feel that itch in the back of my head.  That buzzing of the brain.  The old demon has come back to try to deter me from my path of glory.  What starts as a buzz, a scratch, a whisper, slowly becomes a pure shock, a clawing, and a guttural scream within my head.  Something that I just can’t shake like I always had before. I stood there, having thoughts of what would have happened if I had shoved him down on the couch, punched him in the face, and then leaned down and kissed his lips. A blush floods my cheeks, as my mind takes me deeper and deeper into the sinful and immoral thoughts placed in my head by the serpent himself. The painful pleasure. The sizzling lust. Feeling the blood course through my every vein. I only redden my cheeks more by slapping myself across the face.  I walk down the hallway as I pull my phone from my pocket.  Immediately, I dial Ginny.






A Higher Purpose
November 16th, 2020; Saxon Hotel - Las Vegas, NV


A man does not show weakness by crying. He does not break. He is to be made of stone, and never let anyone see a single emotion besides anger.  That’s what it means to be a man.  So what I’m doing right now is the exact opposite of that. I am lying in my own room at the Saxon Hotel, on the couch, tears rolling down my cheeks. Ginny has my head in her lap, stroking my hair as she just shakes her head.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not blubbering. But, there’s a few tears stained on my cheeks.  I’m going on about everything that happened when I made my visit to Esther’s room.  She babies me, which admittedly feels nice.  She looks down into my eyes, and she wipes a tear away for me.  She smiles, a smile like I’m not used to seeing on her face, ever.  She leans down and kisses my forehead.  She waits for me to explain everything… except for the carnal desires. I’m not that distraught right now to not be able to realize that it’s just a wicked temptation.  But, once I’m done, Ginny continues to brush my hair out of my face, the mess that I am.

Virginia:  Hun, can I be brutally honest with you?

Me:  Definitely. I need to hear this. I am strong enough to take it.

Virginia:  You should never have gone to see your sister.  I’ll spare you my thoughts on that bratty little troll doll, but there is a reason Father Gerald is not pursuing her return to the flock. You have to trust in that.

Me:  You don’t know her the way I do.  We grew up together in a messed up situation.  We looked out for each other the best we could. We’re just as much a part of how things turned out as my mother and father. There would be no Church of the Good Shepherds if not for us

Ginny stops rubbing my head.  She stiffens up and I know this is my time to sit up.  She folds her arms across her chest as she looks off into the distance, pretending I’m not even there.  For the life of me, I can’t figure out what has gotten into her.

Me:  Would you talk to me, please, Ginny?

She turns even more away from me to let me know that she won’t.  I shake my head because I don’t have time for this.  I stand up and I walk over to the only thing that has made sense to me over the last year or so; The Good Book. As I pick it up, Ginny looks back to me with a smile on her face.

Virginia:  That is why there is a Church of the Good Shepherds.  Right there in your hand, hun.  Don’t be such a megalomaniac. Humble yourself to His divine word.  Have your little bout with injustice, take on O’Malley, and return to us.  Your father simply thinks you’re being ridiculous, and I have to agree.

I turn to look at her, because I can’t believe she’s just said that.

Me:  And that’s a problem, Virginia!  I am your future husband, and you should believe in my mission.  You should stand by my side and support me.  Yet, I had to call you, having a mental breakdown to get you to show your support.

Virginia:  Don’t you paraphrase scripture at me, David Michael Shepherd!  You have my full support, but I am also devout to the words in that book, and I have a duty to perform.  So why don’t you be a man and do what needs to be done.  Separate the wheat from the chaff and leave Esther be, ya hear?

Me:  Don’t bark orders at me, and do NOT call my masculinity into question again, EVER! “Ya hear?”

Mocking her with the last part, I turn back away from her.  I need the Word right now, more than I have in ages.  The images continue to flood my head, and there’s nothing else I can think to do to stop them.  Ginny is only making me want to go back to 2102 and tongue wrestle Andrey into submission, and I ffffff-rickin’ hate it!

Virginia:  Then be a man and suck it up, buttercup.  We don’t need no regression, now do we?

I ignore her, because if I say anything else, it will be “Go to hell, but leave my engagement ring by the door.” I can’t afford that kind of stress right now.  I continue reading the word with all of my might, hearing it echo inside of my head.  Ginny waits uncomfortably for me to say something, anything, but I won’t. I can’t.  Finally, she comes up and puts her hand on my chest.

Virginia:  Come on now, baby.  We both got tempers. I am sorry for sayin’ that. I just want to motivate you to do what needs to be done, to listen to reason.  Esther is a lost cause.  SCW is a lost cause. You don’t belong there, and you’ve only gone there to try to prove your worth to your father, which is… insane. He knows your worth.

Me:  Oh?  Did his attitude change since the last time I saw him, in the box seats at Underground a month ago?  Has he suddenly seen that I am more than just a deacon to him, but a true messenger of God?  Ready to carry out His will in any way necessary, including slaying the ego of that contemptuous O’Malley?

Virginia:  Well, no, but…

Me:  But nothing.  We really should re-evaluate things.  My father is content with staying in SCU, but the dream was always to expand to SCW.  The company that has been around for nearly a decade now. The reason any of us have jobs.  We were always meant to come here.

Ginny rubs my arm, but I pull it away. A little more sass enters her voice.

Virginia:  We still are meant to enter SCW… when we’re ready.  Do you honestly think you’re ready?

Me:  I’m not the man who lost the Hardcore Tag Team Championships because of an irrational fear of rhinoceros.  I’ve won my fair share against the roster there.

Virginia:  And you’ve lost your fair share as well.  You are not the champion because you lost to O’Malley, remember?

Like a stinging slap to the face, I clearly remember that loss. I can’t even rebut that.  So, instead, I just continue reading The Good Book, finding my peace there.

Virginia:  You are gonna make one hey of an SCU Underground Champion.  And an even better SCW World Heavyweight Champion.  Some day. When you’re ready.  Your father just wants what is best for you. He doesn’t want you to get embarrassed by overshooting this thing with O’Malley. We kinda already saw how that played out last time.

Me:  My father created me. He lifted me up from the cesspool of sin I was living in. He trained me how to fight.  He built me to be a soldier of the one true God. For him not to believe in me is for him not to believe in himself. Even if I don’t always agree with my father, I do want to make him proud. But it stings that none of you believe in me whatsoever. It makes me feel alone going into this fight with O’Malley.

Ginny nods her head. It’s her turn to sit by quietly while I preach the truth. She just wraps her arms around me and leans her head in.

Virginia:  You’re right. I can’t argue with you there, hun. I just wish you could see that he loves you, and what he’s doing is for you.  He wants to lay down the righteous path for you, so that you can carry the torch when he’s gone. And he doesn’t wanna see you get hurt.

Me:  It’s funny.  I see a fork in the road in front of me.  The one where I hear him tell me what’s right, what’s wrong, and who I’m supposed to be. And then I see two choices. One where I humble myself and trust that he knows what’s best for me, and fall back in line. And one where I rebel against everything he’s taught me, like Esther did.

Virginia:  And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t talk with Esther again. She will tempt you down the wrong path. You are right, you’re on a righteous path, and you see the light ahead of you.  And you see your sister trying to hold up a small lantern in the darkness down the other path.  That’s what I been trying to tell ya, hun. That’s what your father’s been trying to tell ya too.

It makes sense. I cannot deny it.  This is the part where I have to truly say goodbye to Esther.  This time, I don’t let Ginny see me shed a tear for my sister.  She is dead and gone, and all that remains is her seized soul, tormenting me, and only me.  She is truly the walking dead now.  Gone forever. The tear falls onto the page with Psalms 23.






Outrun the Past
November 18th, 2020; Floyd Lamb Park - Las Vegas, NV


The weather is lovely this morning, so I find myself outside, enjoying all of God’s glory.  The cool breeze from the lake along the trail is a great way to clear my mind, and get focused on my upcoming match.  It is time to push the anger and hatred out of my heart, and focus on the task at hand.

I put on my gray sweatsuit before leaving, and a pair of sunglasses, accompanied by my white sneakers for the attire, hoping to blend into the crowd more.  I didn’t really feel like being noticed, because I wanted to get out and get a change of scenery.  My disposable mask clings to my face as I run against the breeze.

A mother and her children go the opposite way on bicycles, laughing and smiling as they, too, enjoy the day.  It brings a smile to my face, under my mask.  I give a nod to a man who jogs behind them, until I notice the markings on his skin.  Something called “Slipknot” with a devil star on his upper arm.  And already, the rage is boiling inside of me.  I clench my fists together as I weave around an elderly man enjoying a morning walk.

I see a homeless man asleep on the park bench.  I go off the path to check on him.  He smells of rotten urine, cigarette butts, and rust.  I reach into the pocket of my jacket and pull out a few bills, and I set them in his pocket.  He jumps up and grabs onto my arm, trying to pull me over, but his attempt is feeble at best.  I pull back and he sputters in his toothless way.

Man:  Tryin’ to get fresh with me, sonny boy?  I don’t do any of that stuff, not for free!

I wretch a little in my mouth.  I pull the bills back out of his pocket and sneer at him.  Ye of so little faith.  Though, I don’t want the money anymore, because it had been infected by his filth, so instead, I tear them up and throw them in the trashcan next to him.  I pull out a bottle of hand sanitizer, and I apply it, letting him see the disgust as he walks over to the can to try to collect the pieces of the twenties I disposed of.

The old me would have called him a jackass, but instead, I just think it as I go back on my jog.  I go around the entire park twice, and the fatigue is setting in.  But the truth is that I can’t give up yet.  I have to work on my speed training.  Of course, a few of the most devout stop me in my tracks and they hold out their copies of The Good Book for me to sign.  One woman even asks for a baptism in the lake, which I am more than happy to oblige.  Once the excitement is over, and the woman leaves anew, I go back to jogging.  Before I know it, I have gone for 4 hours, stopping very little.  Hungry, cold, and tired.  But, I keep going.  I continue to jog faster and faster until it turns into a sprint, and then a full on run.  In the back of my mind, I find myself thinking the same thing.

“I’ve gotta catch’em.  I’ve got to be able to keep up.”

Over, and over.  O’Malley has outrun so much in his life that it is time one of his problems catches up to him.  Before I even know what’s happening, I run from the park.  I run all the way to… I don’t really know where I’m going.  Not until I get there, at least.  There is it, though, glaring me right in the face.  A flowered cross by the side of the highway.  As I reach it, I find myself knelt down right in front of it.  I can’t help but stare those haunting blue gray eyes head on.  That darker than midnight hair, faded only by time and age.

Me:  Gosh damn it!  Why did you have to leave us so soon, Misty?!

I shed a few tears, wiping them away as the wind picks up, blowing my hair all around, and sending a chill through my legs and feet from the wet clothes.  I pull the picture off of the cross as I fall into the cross.  I lean against it as I catch my breath and hold back the flow of the tears.

Me:  You were so young, with so much potential!  Victim of an accident on a rainy, slick highway.  You left behind two children.  Eden Staggs, who is taken care of by her abomination of a father.  And an orphaned Owen O’Malley, taken care of by your family, because his own father couldn’t stand the thought of raising him without you. Or at all.

I shake my head as I bring the picture closer to my face to see it more clearly as it flaps in the wind.

Me:  Spike Staggs is a horrendous human being. We all know that.  But, he has two things your widower does not.  A successful career, and the spine to raise his bastards to adulthood.  He owns his mistakes in life, including you.  He wins top tier championships.  He handles his obligations, to the point that he breaks bones for them, or gets kicked in the testicles for them.  Thinking back, you probably did him a major favor.

I’m smiling, and I know it.  So I force a fake cry as I hold the picture close to my chest, sobbing without tears as I look up at the sky.

Me:  WHYYYYYYYY?!?

And then I pull the picture back out so that I can look at it again.

Me:  But, God has a way of evening the score.  You missed out on a mutual life of sin with Spike, but he got a wife that is responsible for at least seven point eight million sock babies, while you got stuck with… Hmmm…

I hope that she knows who I’m talking to, because I don’t have the heart to say his name out loud right now.  Not during this tender talk.

Me:  … you know… But, you bore a beautiful baby boy into this world, and with the help of a man who is the man of your dreams.  At least I would hope, because why else would you fornicate and marry to cover up the bastardization of your then unborn child?  That’s beyond me, honestly.  But, either way, you and your husband shared the glorious gift of life.  Owen O’Malley.  Such beauty, right?

I nod, because I know she would absolutely agree with me.

Me:  And after just a couple years, it all ended so abruptly and unexpectedly.  Social media was shocked for days, at least for the nerds who pay attention to wrestling Twitter. It was probably trending, right?  It’s not like Delia Darling was a thing at the time… ohhhhh…. Sorry…

I suck air through my teeth, trying to apologize to Misty for being so forgotten and lost in the shuffle. The same way C.S. Lewis was forgotten when JFK was mowed down on the same day.

Me:  Your husband decided he wanted to honor you by training to wrestle. That’s noble, right? I mean, yes, but it would’ve been more noble not to abandon your son with your family while he’s off fornicating with some chick who tried to erase your memory entirely. Or, do I just not truly understand my fellow man? They’re engaged to be wed, did you know? Gosh, I can be such a gossip.

I flash a bit of a smile, but then I return to my heart to heart with Misty O’Malley.

Me:  He ran from your memory instead of honoring it. He ran from your son to pursue his career and his new love interest. He ran from Ben Jordan until he got called out on it. He ran from my father.  He ran from SCU. He just ran.  Sort of the way your car did, from the actual road. Yours is much more tragic, because you didn’t have control… unless you actually meant to do that?

I give her a sideways glance.

Me:  I sure hope not, because that would be a mortal sin, damning your soul to hell for all eternity.  Not wise.  But, at least it would be understandable.  Your career was in the tank. You were with a second string while your first string was off fornicating Mikah, and putting a ring on that.  Delia had the spotlight. Mikah had your man. And so did Delia, I hear.  Everyone but you had him.  He’s like the rich man’s Kristopher Ryans.  So I get why taking the easy way out would be so appealing.  Especially when you realize that you’re trapped by O’Malley.  You’re a victim of his, really. I mean, how quickly did he move on once he was established as a wrestler?  I clung to your name until it’s meaning faded, and then he clung to the GO Gym’s reputation for as long as it would carry him.  He used you as a stepping stone, just like Drake Green did.  Just like Spike did. Just like Delia, Odette, Roxi, and Vixen did. Being used up until there’s nothing left isn’t a good feeling, I’d imagine.

I sigh as I give her a nod.  But then, I shrug my shoulders.

Me:  Well, too bad you killed yourself.  Now you reside in Hell with Satan.  But, you were kind of destined to get there anyway after the whole “Queen of the Damned” thing.  P.S. screw you for leaving us to deal with Ruby. Why couldn’t she have been in the car instead of you?  Or even with you?  Life is so unfair.  Anyway, I hate to cut this short, but I need to get back to training.  I have to keep up with your deadbeat husband.

And just like that, I step back and let the wind take the picture, right into a mud puddle.  I’d help her out of the pit, but it’s too late at this point. I resume running along the side of the highway.







Revelations (Pt 1)
Undisclosed date, time, and location


The room is dark, barren of any sort of light.  The only sound is that of a dripping pipe.  If you could see anything, it would only be the dampness of this underground bunker. I turn on a light in the center of the room once I find the string to pull on.  You can see that the walls are lined with shelves containing anything one would need to survive a nuclear blast, or worse.  Food, water, blankets, pillows, lanterns, batteries of all sizes. Then, in the middle of the room, is a cot that I’m standing next to.  It’s not glamorous, but it is practical.

Me:  Welcome to the end of times. The bunker for those who will not be lucky enough to feel God’s love through the rapture  Me?  I don’t need to worry about surviving, because I already know I will be called to everlasting life.

I shrug, because I know it’s not a popular opinion.  But, it is what I truly believe in my bones.

Me:  Others, who have not repented for their sins and made things right by God, will need to worry.  They will find themselves living in this environment, underground, hiding from the world outside.  That’s a very common thing, isn’t it?  Hiding from stuff.  People do it through sex, drugs, drinking, fitness, mindless wandering through satanic dribble that comes out of Hollywood, or molests our ears through the radio… Oh, and avoidance.

I nod because this one is very important.  I can’t help but let the audience know that by cracking a bit of a smile.  My eyes light up as I point at the camera.

Me:  Hey, speaking of avoidance, I have a match coming up against O’Malley.  You know, the king of avoidance.  The perpetually yellow-bellied, quicker than lightning, faster than a speeding train when it comes to obligations.  Contracts. Children. Honoring his deceased wife.  The list goes on and on.  The man is a real piece of work.

I turn to look at a jar of dehydrated meat, and I can’t help but to be distracted by the fact that this is probably the most disgusting, unnatural thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

Me:  This looks very valuable to the dwellers of the underbelly.  I’m going to just leave this right here.

I put the jar back on the shelf and I turn to see all of the equipment made to make life easier after society collapses. As I tinker with it all, I continue.

Me:  People have been asking me a lot of questions lately, like they are just now realizing that I exist.  But the biggest question, and the one that just digs deep into every last nerve of mine is this; “Brother David!  Why did you attack O’Malley?” Shoot, it was even in the preview released to the public.  Do people just not pay attention to anything that doesn’t cause a ding on their phone?  Are people really that fricken vapid? I will give you a little lesson that should go a long way.

I raise up my hand with one finger.

Me:  The Sin City Network is a great thing. That’s probably how you’re watching this promotional video right here. You can watch Climax Control every week. And Super Cards like High Stakes X.  You can access all things Sin City Wrestling.  It’s great, right?  Maybe a bit lewd, but once I get past O’Malley, I’ll help take care of that for y’all.  But, if you just drop down a few categories, you will find this thing called Sin City Underground and GRIME. Equally as lewd and disgusting, but my father, mother, fiancee, and good friend, Andrew Borg are working on that as we speak.

My second finger is now up and my other hand is wrapped around it.  The sarcasm is rolling thick off of my tongue now, even through my attempt to educate.

Me:  Now that I’ve told you where you can find all things SCU and GRIME, how about you take advantage of that money that you could be tithing to the Church of the Good Shepherds, and pay some fucking attention to the sister company, and I wouldn’t have to waste my time explaining why I attacked O’Malley.  I mean, seriously. You don’t even have to watch the show.  Just knowing it exists, and a few highlights would tell you why I went after O’Malley.  Do you even follow his Twitter?  Or are you too busy fawning over the half naked bombshells to pay attention to literally anything?

I catch myself yelling now.  I pinch the bridge of my nose, because I want so badly to hurt somebody right now.  Some sinner, any sinner would do.  But, here I am, all alone with a camera and a bunch of survival gear and supplies.

Me:  Okay, now, since I know how little my word means to you, which should have been obvious enough by the total disregard for His almighty word, I’ll back it up a little bit.  O’Malley used to be the Underground Champion.  Shocking, right?  His time as the champion even overlapped with his abysmal Roulette Championship reign.  Does that ring a bell?  Some of you?  Good.  So, people fought him for the title for three months, where he acted like he couldn’t even be bothered to show up, let alone carry the belt with integrity.  He defended it, and sometimes GRIME caused him to retain by mobbing everybody in the ring at the time.  Then, in God’s very own, well, thought out plan, He destined my father, Father Gerald Shepherd for those who are too worried about giving into their sins and vices to know that, to be the one to take the belt off of O’Malley. Do you follow?

I clap my hands together for the idiots watching this that might, mayyyyybe, understand what’s going on.  For the majority, though, I continue.

Me:  Once O’Malley wasn’t able to just walk around with two titles and not put any work into being a champion, let alone a double champion.  So he made up some tired excuse about focusing on his other title in SCW.  Well, we all saw how that turned out, right?  Right.  So, he never made an effort to come back to SCU, instead focusing on SCW, the “main brand”.  My father seemed to get a good laugh out of this, because he spent a month telling everyone what a coward O’Malley was, and he took it a step further and dropped his SCU contract just as quickly as he dropped custody of his son to his dead wife’s family.  I didn’t find it so comical.

I shake my head.  There is so much more than anything I could ever say inside of my head at this moment.

Me:  I took offense to that. He got to go to SCW to wrestle while my father, and the members of my congregation were delegated to the “basement brand”.  I wasn’t going to stand for it.  And I even said that on Underground.  So I showed up to get O’Malley right where I wanted him.  And it worked.  Because on Sunday, I get to make an example of O’Malley, and show just how far the reach of The Church of the Good Shepherds really goes.  And you can count on that, as God is my witness.

I bring my hands down to my side as I come closer to the camera.

Me:  I’ve said all I want to say about O’Malley, because he doesn’t even deserve that much mention.  He couldn’t be bothered to mention anyone in his time as the SCU Champion, except Ben Jordan.  You know, the man he blindsided with a briefcase and stole the SCU Championship from him, and then couldn’t even own his actions.  That’s how little he is able to commit.  If I were Darcy, I’d be worried about that little fact.  Even that Jezebel deserves better than that, and that says a lot.  But, if God decides to have mercy on her, O’Malley won’t be able to walk out of that ring.  I just might end him altogether, but only if it is God’s will.

I want so badly to leave off the last part, because it is almost more of a guarantee than a request.  But, as a good Christian, I just can’t.

Me:  In closing… “May God have mercy on your soul, because I sure as hell won’t.”

And with that, I turn the camera off, leaving all to look forward to my match with O’Malley on Sunday, November 22nd, 2020, live on the Sin City Network.

Offline O Malley

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Re: O'Malley v Brother David
« Reply #2 on: November 20, 2020, 08:59:59 PM »
The Week Before Climax Control #285
Asking For A Favor


O’Malley wasn’t good at asking favors. He never had been, and he did his best to avoid ever having to ask someone for help with anything, even if he suffered more for it. But now wasn’t the time to listen to his pride and try and waste time in trying to figure things out all on his own. Not when the longer he did, the longer his son suffered the same as he did, if not more. He would do anything to get Owen back in his life, and the longer Misty’s parents kept him from O’Malley, the more he realized the lengths he would need to go in order to get Owen back.

So what exactly does that entail at this moment in time? Well, the answer is quite simple really if you think about it. There is simply no way of this being settled outside of a courtroom, and that meant that O’Malley needed a lawyer or lawyers to represent him in his fight to get custody of his son. And not just any lawyer. He needed nothing less than the absolute best. Perhaps the most ruthless. And that is where the favor comes in, doesn’t it?

O’Malley couldn’t just go searching through the phone books or google for names of any old law firms in the Las Vegas area. How could he trust what he would find? No, he needed the help of someone who had experience with legal matters in the past, and knew the lawyers were not only trustworthy, but successful for their clients. So...just who is O’Malley turning to for help?


Darcy: He lives...here??

He and Darcy stand outside the front entrance of the large(that is putting it lightly!) mansion in Las Vegas. They just stare at the modern mansion that Synn and Despayre had called home for many years now and were, simply, speechless.

O’Malley: This is the address Gabriel gave me. I knew the man had a big house, but...Christ!

They don’t move. They’re too awe-struck at the sight of Synn’s home to take a step closer to the door. They aren’t even aware that Synn himself is staring at them from one of the windows in the front entertainment room. Eventually, it is Darcy who takes the first step. But O’Malley grabs her hand.

O’Malley: Wait...maybe we shouldn’t do this. I mean...why would he help us anyway?

Darcy: We have to try. You said yourself we need the absolute best lawyers we can find. Come on.

And she leads him up to the door. O’Malley hesitates in ringing the doorbell, so Darcy takes it upon herself to do it. They can hear feet pounding against the floor as someone is running towards the door. Moments later, the door swings open and Despayre stares at them.

Despayre: Well Gee! You don’t look like the usual Avon Lady that comes here!

Darcy lets out a giggle, but O’Malley looks confused as he stares at Despayre, then glances to Darcy.

O’Malley: I...don’t even know what that means. We’re, uh...Here to see Synn. Yer Dad?

Despayre takes a small notebook and purple crayon out of his pocket.

Despayre: Add eyeliner…

He quickly puts his notebook away and then looks back to O’Malley and Darcy.

Despayre: I know my Dad’s name! Sheesh!

Despayre takes in a deep breath and turns just as Synn is approaching them. Synn has no time to stop Despayre before he shouts as loud as he can.

Despayre: DAD!!!!!!!!

Right in Synn’s ear.  O’Malley and Darcy almost jump back, but Synn just stands there, practically unphased at having his ear drum almost blown out.

Synn: Thank you, Joshua.

Despayre smiles and gives his father a thumbs up before he zooms off past Synn, back into the front living room. Synn then turns his attention to O’Malley and Darcy.

Synn: O’Malley. Darcy. To what do I owe the pleasure?

O’Malley scratches the back of his head nervously, unsure of how to answer that question. Darcy elbows him lightly in his side, and she smiles as she looks at Synn.

O’Malley: Oh! I, uh...I mean, we...We need to ask a favor. I normally hate doin’ this, but…

Synn: I am well aware of why you’re here, O’Malley. I was seeing if you’d actually cop to it right away, but apparently not.

O’Malley and Darcy glance at one another then look back to him again.

Darcy: You already know?

Synn nods.

Synn: You didn’t think Gabriel would just give you my address without speaking to me first, did you? Why don’t you both come inside and have a seat and we can have a better discussion?

Synn steps aside and invites the pair inside. O’Malley isn’t hesitant, but Darcy is not. She offers Synn a grateful smile and O’Malley follows behind her. Once they are inside, and Synn closes the door, they just...stare. Much as they did with the outside of the mansion, they’re left in awe of the inside of Synn’s home. He cracks a smile as he watches them look around.

Synn: Perhaps you’d like to join me in the living room? Or, are you just going to stare the entire time?

O’Malley: This place is...it’s like our house multiplied by ten. And just ye and Despayre live here?

They follow behind Synn as he leads them into the living room, which is the size of their entire house. Synn chuckles.

Synn: Well, technically, yes. And Theresa of course. But our extended family visits often. Or they did before all of this social distancing requirements. Now. You wanted to talk?

Despayre is seated on one of the sofas, his eyes glued to the television as he snacks and watches his favorite cartoons. Synn takes a seat in a large la-z-boy style chair, and Darcy and O’Malley take a seat as well. Darcy is not far away from Despayre, and she seems rather intrigued by him and his childlike nature. O’Malley focuses on Synn.

O’Malley: I want ye to know, this wasn’t me idea. I don’t like askin’ anyone fer help, but Gabriel knows what a tough situation we’re in right now. I didn’t want or think this fight fer me son would end up goin’ the legal route, but—

Synn: Pardon my interruption here, but what made you think it wouldn’t? You left Owen abruptly almost three years ago now. Did you honestly think they would just hand him back over that easily?

O’Malley sighs. Synn had a point, but it was difficult in admitting as much. Especially when he was trying his hardest to prove he truly regretted leaving Owen like he had.

O’Malley: I honestly didn’t know what to expect. But, I had hoped they would kinda understand where I was comin’ from. We were all grievin’ after losin’ Misty so suddenly. But she was me wife. She was Owen’s mother. I don’t deal well with loss, and I went off the deep end.

Synn: You don’t need to explain yourself to me, O’Malley. While I wouldn’t have done the same under the circumstances, I understand your decision to do anything to protect your son. And that was what you felt you were doing, right? This isn’t all some lie to make yourself look better, or to get sympathy?

O’Malley shakes his head vehemently. He knew that people would think that, Misty’s family included. But they didn’t know the full story. And he had to tell Synn the full story. Meanwhile, Darcy was remaining awfully quiet, and little did O’Malley know that she was making a new friend.

O’Malley: Of course not. And I get why people would think that. I came back from Ireland with a new wife, and a new attitude. But this had nothin’ to do with Darcy. The fact is, after I lost Misty...after I left Owen with her family the way I did...I wanted to die. I had no intention of comin’ back to the states. I thought Owen was better off without me. She literally saved me from goin’ over the edge. And Misty’s family is doin’ this because of her. But again, there’s more to the story than they understand. The fact is, I need trustworthy lawyers that can help us prove that Darcy cares about Owen just as much as I do.

Synn takes in a deep breath. He looks in Darcy and Despayre’s direction as he leans forward, and nods.

Synn: I want you to know something, O’Malley. I’m going to agree to help you, because I can tell Darcy is not as terrible as people think she is.

O’Malley arches an eyebrow curiously about to ask how he knows, but Synn simply points a finger towards Darcy and Despayre. She’s now seated directly next to him as he watches his cartoons and shares his candy with her.

Synn: Far be it from me to find any fault in her if Joshua is willing to share his candy with her.

O’Malley chuckles and nods in response. Darcy looks up to him for a moment before turning her attention back to Despayre, and O’Malley turns back to Synn.

O’Malley: She’s come a long way recently. That’s what I need to show people. I need to prove that as much as I’m ready to get me son back and be a father to him, she’s ready to step up and be a mother to him.

Synn: It’s not going to be easy. Especially not after some of the things she said about Misty. Her family has ever right to feel the way they do. But, you also deserve to have your voice heard, which as I understand is not what has been happening.

O’Malley shakes his head.

O’Malley: Not at all. And the restrainin’ orders they slapped on us don’t help matters any, either. It’s a bunch of bullsh—

Synn suddenly clears his throat before O’Malley can finish the inevitable curse word he was about to. That, of course, would have elicited a “swear jar” moment from Despayre, but Synn had prevented it none-the-less.

Synn: Well, they can’t file nor be granted a restraining order without just cause. They had to have felt threatened in some way.

O’Malley folds his arms, shaking his head.

O’Malley: We never once threatened them. I just wanted to talk things out, that was all. They refused. And I have no idea how they were granted the dang thing, but they were. They must have pretty good lawyer themselves.

Synn: But not the best, because that is where I come in. I’ll have my attorneys on retainer look everything over and give them your contact information. I’ve already agreed to help you, but I just have one final question.

O’Malley nods.

O’Malley: Absolutely.

Synn: Are you ready to be a real father to your son? Truly ready? Because when it comes to matters such as this, I will not be made to look a fool, O’Malley.

O’Malley: I understand. Really, I do. And I promise ye, I’m ready to get me son back. I wouldn’t be fightin’ like this if I weren’t.

Synn nods slowly.

Synn: Good. I’ll contact my attorneys tomorrow and set everything in motion. As for you...Well, as I understand it, you have a match against Kristopher Ryans to prepare for?

O’Malley laughs, letting out a bit of a snort in the process.

O’Malley: Oh I’ve been prepared fer that, trust me. I ain’t worried about Kris Ryans. But thanks fer the concern.

Synn: Not that it needs to be said, as I’m sure Gabriel has warned you, but don’t take that man lightly. Try to focus on that first and then we’ll be in touch about the legal situation.

O’Malley nods before he stands up. He looks over to Darcy and she quietly says something to Despayre before she stands up as well and then walks over to O’Malley.

Darcy: Everything sorted? Did you agree to help us?

She looks directly at Synn, and he nods.

Synn: I have. Not to worry, Darcy. Owen will be with the both of you soon enough.

Darcy smiles brightly and hugs O’Malley.

O’Malley: I certainly hope so. I just want me son back.

Darcy: Well, if everything has been sorted, we won’t take up anymore of your time. Thank you again for agreeing to help us.

Synn: My pleasure. I’ll show you two out.

Darcy: Bye, Despy! Thanks for sharing your candy with me!

Despayre looks up and over to Darcy.

Despayre: Don’t thank me! Angel said it was ok!

Darcy simply smiles as O’Malley scratches his head. Synn shows them out soon after, and the two head on their way.




Monday  November 9th
Getting A Head Start


In two weeks time, the biggest event of the year in SCW would be taking place. High Stakes X. The show where not only would the Hall of Fame would see new inductees, br feuds would be coming to an end. But in one instance, a feud may very well be starting. And that is involving none other than Brother David Shepherd and O’Malley.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, O’Malley was supposed to face off against Kris Ryans in their ongoing war. But due to circumstances still unclear, that match did not take place. The night should have been relatively laid back for O’Malley but instead, he was involved in a scuffle of sorts with Brother David, ultimately leading to Christian Underwood booking their High Stakes match.

He has plenty of time to prepare for that match, and against Darcy’s urging to take a day or two to rest and recover from the brick shot to the head, O’Malley has chosen to get a head start on preparing for this match. He simply could not allow himself to lose this one. He had to do everything in his power to bring Brother David down a few notches. And in order to do so, he had to hit the gym bright and early. Lingering headache be damned.

He was the first one there. Well, as far as the students went. Gabriel of course was there when he quietly made his way to the locker rooms to get changed to his training gear. There was no one to spar with at the moment so he’s take advantage of using one of the punching bags at his disposal. It was only when O’Malley started hitting the bag when Gabriel realized he was even there. He popped his head out of the office and saw who it was before making his way over to him.


Gabriel: What are you doing here? We didn’t schedule any training time for you until later in the week. Or did that brick shot to the head cause amnesia?

O’Malley stops for a moment and turns his attention to Gabriel. He shakes his head as he holds the bag.

O’Malley: No, I didn’t forget. I didn’t want to wait. That piece of shite might have gotten a good shot in last night, but I’m gonna give him ten times worse at High Stakes.

Gabriel folds his arms, not appreciating O’Malley’s eageness in this case.

Gabriel: Normally I’d have no problem, but in this case, I gotta suggest you just go back home for a day or two. You may not have a concussion, but even training can make that worse. I know you know that.

O’Malley: I know, Gabriel, but…

Gabriel: No buts. You’re not going to risk a more serious injury just because you’re overly eager. I’m surprised Darcy didn’t try to talk you out of this.

O’Malley scratches his head and looks away, a tell tale sign of a lie.

Gabriel: And that’s because she doesn’t know, does she?

O’Malley: Well, I’m sure she does now. She was still asleep when I left. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Haven’t gotten much sleep in recent weeks if I’m honest. Between the shite with Kris Ryans not being settled yet, to Brother David startin’ shite...and waitin’ fer this legal stuff to move forward...I need a distraction, Gabriel.

Gabriel slowly nods and O’Malley punches the bag in frustration.

Gabriel: Ok first off, don’t worry about Kris Ryans right now. That match was postponed so no need to worry about it when you’ve got a different opponent coming up. Second, you’ll get your chance against Brother David, but if you want to stand a chance at beating him, you’ve gotta be healthy or he’ll exploit it. And third...Anything new from Synn on that front?

O’Malley shakes his head, and that seems to be the one thing weighing heaviest on his mind.

O’Malley: Not yet. Last he told me, his attorney was looking at all of the information and would get back to him. I’m trying not to be impatient here, but it’s gonna suck not havin’ Owen home fer Christmas.

Gabriel: That’s a little over a month away, mate. A lot can happen in a month. I’m sure Synn will be reaching out soon. Just focus on what you can control right now. And that is making sure you don’t give Brother David an advantage going into this match. Go home. Get some rest. Just get outta here.

O’Malley sighs. He knows he won’t be able to argue with Gabriel so he steps back from the punching bag. Gabriel is about to turn and walk away, but O’Malley isn’t quite ready to end their conversation and head home.

O’Malley: Hey can I ask ye somethin’?

Gabriel: I believe you technically just did, but sure.

O’Malley: Do ye think I should have stayed in SCU? Do ye think I’m strong enough to handle it all and still be a good father to Owen once I get him back?

Gabriel takes in a deep breath them exhales as he stares at O’Malley. O’Malley’s face is riddled with doubt but he knows that Gabriel will be one hundred percent honest with him.

Gabriel: It’s not about what I think, O’Malley. It’s about what you think, and whether or not you feel like you could handle it. Do I believe you accomplished everything you had to accomplish in SCU? No, but you made a decision for your family, and I’m not going to fault you for that.

O’Malley: I just can’t help but keep goin’ through these moments where I second guess me decision. I’ve made so many mistakes already in me life. I need to do the right things from now on, ye know?

Gabriel nods.

Gabriel: Then you made the right decision. You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone, mate. Not when it affects your family.

O’Malley: Thanks. I appreciate it.

Gabriel: Anytime. Now get outta here.

O’Malley nods and chuckles, needing no further warning. He heads towards the locker rooms again to get his training back together. When he checks his phone, expecting to see a missed call from Darcy, he’s surprised to see there was one from Synn instead, just minutes before. He wastes no time in calling Synn back, eager for an update on the lawyer situation. After a couple of rings, Synn answers.

Synn: O’Malley...I hope my call wasn’t too early.

O’Malley: Not at all. I was going to get a trainin’ session in but Gabriel kicked me out. Do you have an update?

Synn: I do. But perhaps you and Darcy would like to discuss this in person?

O’Malley: I don’t want to wait. What’s the word.

Synn draws in a deep breath before continuing.

Synn: She’s confident that the restraining order won’t be held up, and she has agreed to take on your case. She’d like to set a meeting to discuss things further. I have full confidence in her, but she did warn that the attorney Misty’s family has hired isn’t to be underestimated by any means.

O’Malley: If ye have confidence in her, then so do I. I really appreciate yer help with this, Synn.

Synn: Before you go, O’Malley, I want you to be forewarned about this attorney that they have hired. I’m going to do digging of my own into this Alistair Adams, but I hear he is a bit of a snake.

O’Malley’s eyes go wide as soon as Synn mentions the attorney by name. He goes silent for a long while, which worries Synn briefly.

Synn: O’Malley? Are you still on the line?

O’Malley: Uhhh...yeah, I’m here. Did...did ye say Alistair Adams?

Synn: That’s correct. Have you heard of him?

O’Malley narrows his eyes and his nostrils flare.

O’Malley: I know all about him. Thanks fer the update, Synn, but there’s something I gotta take care of. I’ll be in touch.

Synn: What aren’t you telling me? If this could hurt your case—

O’Malley: I’ll explain later.

O’Malley abruptly ends the call, being slightly disrespectful to the man who has done so much to help him. He shoves his phone into his pocket and quickly zips his training duffel bag closed.

O’Malley: Feckin’ son of a bitch…

He slings the strap of the duffel bag over his shoulder and quickly high tails it out of the locker room and the gym, and then to his car.




He was fuming. Hearing the name Alistair Adams had set something off in O’Malley and after looking up the address info for the law firm, he sped off and away from the GO Gym on a mission. His knuckles were white and he prayed that what he was about to do wouldn’t backfire on him. Then again, he didn’t seem to care. He had nothing holding him back from driving to the law firm, potentially risking the custody case for Owen.

The approximate thirty minute drive to the law firm took O’Malley half that time as he sped through the streets, somehow avoiding any police vehicles in the area and getting pulled over. He pulled into the parking garage and parked his car, wasting no time in killing the engine and hopping out of the vehicle. As he followed the signs leading him where he needed to go, he went over in his mind what he was going to say. Or what he wanted to say, because the moment he came face to face Alistair, that might very well all change.

A couple of minutes after parking his car, he’s finally storming his way into the lobby of the law firm building. A young receptionist is seated behind the desk, and she looks up ready to greet O’Malley. But one look at the angry scowl on her face almost terrifies her.


Receptionist: H-hello, sir. Can I help you with something?

She tries to avoid showing an ounce of fear, but he slams his palms on the top of the desk and stares at her.

O’Malley: Alistair Adams. Tell me the gobshite is here, and where I can find him.

Receptionist: Oh, uh, Mr. Adams of course is here. Do you have an appointment? If not—

O’Malley: No, I don’t have a feckin’ appointment! This will be quick, so just tell me where to find him!

O’Malley begins raising his voice and making a scene, causing people in other offices to see what is going on. The receptionist is now growing more fearful as she tries to calm O’Malley down.

Receptionist: Sir, I can see you are visibly upset about something, but please keep your voice down. Mr. Adams requires appointments, so if you’d like to see him, I can—

O’Malley: I’ll tell ye what ye can do, lass. Ye can either tell me where to find Mr. Adams, or ye can pick up the phone and call his office and tell him there’s someone here to see him. Cause I ain’t leavin’ until I speak to him. And don’t tell him me name, either.

She blinks for a moment, and after a few moments, reaches for the phone receiver. She wasn’t about to give O’Malley the location of Alistair’s office. After two rings, Alistair obviously picks up on the other end.

Receptionist: Pardon the interruption, Mr. Adams, but there is a gentleman here insisting to speak with you. He won’t give his name but he is adamant that you come out here to speak with him...I don’t feel that would be wise, sir...Yes, alright. I will let him know.

She puts the phone down and looks back to a furious O’Malley.

Receptionist: He’ll be out in just a moment. But he can only speak briefly, as he has a busy schedule today.

O’Malley: Yeah, I’m sure he does. Thank ye, lass.

O’Malley stands where he is, waiting for what seems like hours for Alistair to make his way to the lobby. In reality, it’s only a couple of minutes at most, when O’Malley heard the clicking of Alistair’s expensive shoes against the lobby’s ceramic floor.

Alistair: How can I help you Mister…

He is clearly attempting to make his british accent sound as friendly as possible, but when O’Malley turns and he gets a good look at his face, his expression soon turns into a slight grin.

Alistair: Oh...Well, isn’t this a delightful surprise. To what do I owe the—

He doesn’t have a chance to finish that sentence as O’Malley finishes closing the distance between them and BAM! nails Alistair with a fist! The receptionist is horrified as she jumps up from her seat and witnesses to the attack turn and look in horror. Alistair nearly loses his footing, but somehow doesn’t as he holds his jaw from the shot.

O’Malley: Ye traitorous son of a bitch! Yer helpin’ them keep me son away from me?!

The receptionist is about to call the police, but Alistair quickly stands up and looks over to her. The corner of his mouth is now bleeding and he holds his other hand up to her.

Alistair: No need to call the authorities, Abigail.

Receptionist: But, sir, he just attacked you!

O’Malley: And fer damn good reason! Lousy piece of shite!

Alistair: It’s fine, Abigail! He’s my brother! There is no need to get the police involved.

Brother?! O’Malley’s nostril’s flare as he glares at Alistair and Abigail sinks down back into her seat against her better judgement. Alistair takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes the blood from his mouth.

O’Malley: Half brother, arsehole.

Alistair: Well gee, Shane, it’s lovely to see you again, too. How many years has it been?

O’Malley snarls.

O’Malley: Don’t call me by me first name! It hasn’t been long enough, fella. And it sure as shite isn’t lovely to see ye. Especially not after the information I found out earlier.

Alistair: Yes, I gathered that much. Perhaps we should have a private discussion before someone goes against my wishes and calls the police over your erratic behavior, brother.

O’Malley: Let them! Because that punch was worth it after I learned that ye were hired to help keep me son from me! I know we ain’t on the best of terms, but Christ, ye really hate me that much?!

Alistair lets out a sigh, and straightens his suit jacket, which is now ruined thanks to the droplets of blood on it.

Alistair: I’m afraid I’m not entirely sure of what you’re talking about, brother.

O’Malley: Owen! Me son! His grandparents hired ye to help them keep him from me!

Alistair’s eyes widen and a light goes off in his mind.

Alistair: Owen Waters is your son? I had no idea.

O’Malley: Waters?! Are they claimin’ his last name is Waters?!

Alistair: I’m not allowed to discuss—

O’Malley: Yer a snake, Alistair. A traitorous, backstabbing arsehole and I won’t let ye succeed in keepin’ me son from me. Don’t act like you didn’t—

Alistair frowns quickly and grabs O’Malley by his arm. He drags him away to a secluded part of the lobby to hopefully calm him down, though O’Malley doesn’t seem interested.

Alistair: I assure you, brother, I hadn’t had a chance to go over the case completely yet. I was assigned this case and I had absolutely no knowledge that the child involved was your son, let alone my nephew!

O’Malley: Ye expect me to believe that load of gobshite?!

Alistair chuckles and responds with a quick shrug.

Alistair: No, I suppose not. But your actions moments ago definitely do not help you any.

O’Malley looks as though he is preparing to hit him again, but he holds himself back. Though he is not any less furious than he was before.

O’Malley: Yeah I’m sure ye’ll use anything ye can think of to use against me. If there is one thing I’m thankful fer it’s that we haven’t spoken in years so ye can’t even say shite about me character.

Alistair: And whose fault is that, Shane?

O’Malley: I told ye, don’t call me by me first name! And it doesn’t matter whose fault it is. I don’t give a shite anyway. After this, yer lucky to be standin’, fella. Yer no brother of mine.

Alistair draws in a deep breath and lets out a sigh. He squeezes the bridge of his nose and looks over to Abigail, insisting with a wave that he is fine.

Alistair: I’d love nothing more than to discuss this mess with you further, brother, but the simple fact is that I can’t. I have meetings to attend shortly, and the conflict of interest this puts me in has to be—

O’Malley: Oh there’s no conflict of interest, Alistair. Yer wiped clean of any familial connection, so represent them if ye must. Just know that with as underhanded as ye might be, I’ll make sure to fight just as dirty if I need to. I’m not the Shane ye knew before, fella.

Alistair: So it would seem.

O’Malley lets out an annoyed yet equally amused chuckle.

O’Malley: Go to hell, Alistair. I’m sure there’s an extra enticing torture chamber for ye down there…

Alistair chuckles as O’Malley shoves his way past Alistair, storming his way out of the office building. Some witnesses still stair but Alistair walks over to the front desk, once again insisting he is fine. He watches as O’Malley disappears out of site and then turns to Abigail.

Alistair: Abigail, please call Mr. and Mrs. Waters as soon as possible and patch them through to my office…




Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned


The time has come. The hour is near. Repentance shall be delivered. Blood shall, perhaps, be spilled in the journey to repentance. God’s shepherd shall feel the wrath of the actions he set in motion, and ultimately, he will fail at the challenge he is going up against. Though Brother David Shepherd no doubt believes he will be successful in his attempt to strike O’Malley down, that...simply will not happen.

In just two days, the son of the man who defeated O’Malley for the SCU Underground Championship gets what he wants. He gets a shot to make O’Malley pay for his sin all while trying to look better in the eyes of his father, and the Father in the highest. He believes he is doing God’s will, but is he? Or is he just doing his own will and attempting to inject himself into the spotlight where his own father refuses to let him step into?

Regardless of the answer to that question, there is one simple fact O’Malley can not deny. One thing he unfortunately agrees on with Brother David and the rest of the Shepherd cult- oops, sorry. Flock. And that would be the fact that O’Malley has, in fact, sinned. Several times.

But who hasn’t? We are all human. We all make mistakes, no matter what anyone says. But it is how we make up for those mistakes that truly matters. And if Brother David has anything to say or do about it, he plans to make O’Malley pay for those sins. Too bad O’Malley has other plans.

Which brings us to this very moment. Inside the Guardian Angel Cathedral in Las Vegas, it is the one place that O’Malley felt drawn to this week in preparation for his upcoming battle against Brother David. Something was pulling him here, and it didn’t take him long to figure out what he needed to do. As he walks inside the cathedral, he dips his hand into the holy water and makes the sign of the cross before heading towards his ultimate destination.

The confessional booth.

Yes, that is right. Today, O’Malley is going to confession. Today, he hopes to be absolved, or at least on the road to being absolved, of his sins. Because Brother David just doesn’t know what the he...ck, he was saying at the last Climax Control.

O’Malley opens the door to the confessional booth, closing it quietly behind him. He hears the window door sliding open, as he makes another sign of the cross and begins speaking.


O’Malley: Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. Today marks me first confession.

Priest: It is never too late in the eyes of the Lord, my son. What sins have brought you here today?

O’Malley lets out an awkward laugh. He scratches the back of his head as the priest waits patiently for him to gather his thoughts and answer.

O’Malley: I ain’t quite sure we’d have the time to go through them all today, but I suppose what really brought me here is me upcoming match against a self proclaimed warrior of God.

Priest: Match?

O’Malley: Oh. Yeah. Ye see, I’m a professional wrestler, and on Sunday I’m goin’ up against a fella by the name of Brother David Shepherd. Real holier than thou piece o’ work. Not sure if ye got a direct line to the big fella in the sky, but I guess I should apologize now fer what I’m gonna do to his henchman.

The priest is silent for a moment as he considers his response.

Priest: What has brought you to this battle, my son? You seem rather determined to inflict pain and suffering on a man claiming to do the Lord’s work.

O’Malley laughs again.

O’Malley: I didn’t want this, Father I had a bit of battle with David’s real father, Father Gerald, but the kid didn’t seem content in lettin’ it end there. He believes I haven’t paid fer my sins and wants to make me pay at his hand.

Priest: And what do you believe?

O’Malley: What do ye mean?

Priest: Have you paid for your sins? And what sins is he referring to?

O’Malley takes in a deep breath. Where would he possibly begin? He knew what Brother David was focusing on, but he also knew that there were things that even David didn’t know about his past.

O’Malley: He’s using the mistake I made with me own son against me. He’s tryna compare me to his own father but claiming I’m worse. I abandoned me son when he needed me the most, but I’m fightin’ like mad to make up fer it now. Doesn’t that count fer somethin’?

Priest: You didn’t answer my first question, my son. Do you believe you have paid for your sins?

O’Malley: Is it really about what I believe, Father? And what price is enough to pay fer everythin’ I’ve done. I’ve literally been pulled from the edge of a cliff by the love of me life, and I’m tryna make everythin’ up to me son. Isn’t askin’ fer forgiveness enough? What gives Brother David the right to say anything. Shouldn’t forgiveness be encouraged?

The priest can be heard chuckling but then letting out another sigh. O’Malley quickly realizes that asked one too many questions, but he knew this would be...complicated.

Priest: The Lord will forgive any man who asks for forgiveness and truly desires it, my son. This Brother David person sounds as if he is well intentioned, but you are allowing yourself to react in a way that could perhaps do more harm than good on your path to forgiveness.

O’Malley: He ain’t well intentioned, Father. He had a brick hidden in a bible and thumped me over the head with it. He and his family are no messengers of God. They’re cowards. Hypocrites. And in David’s case, a sad desperate fella beggin’ fer Daddy’s attention and approval. What he’s gonna get is—

Priest: If I may interrupt...Why exactly not try to find a healthier option to express your frustrations? If you want forgiveness, violence is never the answer. Do not do something you might regret, my son.

O’Malley shakes his head. He leans back against the wall of the confessional booth and folds his arms.

O’Malley: This is part of me job, Father. It’s what we do. But I’ll be damned if this fella didn’t raise up some seriously scary feelin’s inside me. He made this personal, and the only way I know how to make him pay is in the ring. I came here today fer forgiveness but now that I think about it, I don’t think it’s possible.

Priest: What kind of scary feelings? It may be part of your job, but it is a path you have chosen. If you want to be right with the Lord, you can always choose another path.

O’Malley: That ain’t an option. He already accused me of runnin’ from SCU after I lost to his father. I ain’t about to run from SCW just because he’s come around and wantin’ a fight. There’s a good way of goin’ about things, and then there is the wrong way. The Shepherd way.

Priest: So what do you plan to do?

O’Malley thinks for a moment. He was having a hard time coming up with the answer to that question, but he had to think of something. He had to find a way to defeat Brother David that wouldn’t damn his soul for eternity.

O’Malley: I dunno, Father. I want to make him pay fer what he did. He damn near gave me a concussion two weeks ago. I can’t just let that slide. But as much as I want to make him pay...I want to help him.

Priest: Help him? How?

O’Malley: All he wants is for his father to accept him. To love him. This ain’t about following the Lord or doin’ his work. It’s about Father Gerald. It’s about his Daddy issues, and the fact that deep down...he thinks me son is headed fer the same horrible feelin’ as he has. That his father doesn’t want him. But I’m fightin’ to get me son back. I love me son, and nothin’ will ever change that. Father Gerald is a self righteous, self-centered egomaniac that at this point, will never love his son.

Priest: And you feel that he is taking it out on you?

O’Malley nods and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

O’Malley: Of course he is. He’s too afraid to make take his frustrations out on Father Gerald, so he’s deflectin’ it on someone who reminds him of him. Me. But he’s also tryna use it as a way to have his father truly see him. But it won’t work. He needs to see the truth. He needs his eyes opened. I can show him the light!

Priest: And if it doesn’t work?

O’Malley: At least I can say I tried. I was so hell bent on makin’ him suffer fer the things he said, I didn’t stop to think about how the fella could be really feelin’ deep down. I’ve seen him fight fer his father’s attention, only for Gerald to treat him like garbage in the process. I may not be in SCU anymore, but I can use this match to get David away from there. I wouldn’t have a problem with him if he wasn’t so brainwashed.

The priest goes silent for a moment. Nothing about this confession has been what one would consider normal, or even ordinary, but the priest surely understands that every case is different. The sound of his bible closing is heard a moment later.

Priest: I can not speak to which that I do not know first hand, but far be it from me to sway you from the goal of truly helping a troubled soul. Perhaps that may be your truth path to forgiveness, and will set you right in the Lord’s eyes.

O’Malley: Well...it’s at least a start. I can’t promise goin’ about it the right way, but I’ve gotta try. And no matter how hard David tries to strike me down...I ain’t gonna give up. Because it ain’t just the Lord that I gotta do right by. It’s me son. Everythin’ I do now, I’m doin’ fer him. I’m not gonna let people think that’s a lost cause. I won’t let me son get to be in his twenties or thirties and doin’ what David is doin’. There’s still hope.

Priest: And there could still be hope for Brother David’s father as well. As I said, it is never too late in the eyes of the Lord.

O’Malley: Maybe not, but that journey for Gerald and David could take a lot longer than mine with me son. Thanks for the chat, Father.

O’Malley places his palms on his knees, preparing to leave.

Priest: I am always available to those seeking forgiveness. Go in peace, my son. Say as many Hail Mary’s tonight as you need.

O’Malley chuckles.

O’Malley: I’m not sure about the Hail Mary’s, but there may the Lord’s name might be shouted a few times. The wife wants a baby, and well...we’ve been practicing. Sorry, Father…

The sound of the bible hitting the floor follows as O’Malley grins and exits the confessional. As soon as be steps out, he’s met by a scary looking nun. He backs away with a meek expression on his face as she eyes him like a hawk.

O’Malley: Sorry, sister…

He looks past her, makes one final sign of the cross and turns to rush out of the church as the scene fades away.

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