Apologies ahead of time. I had eye surgery on Wednesday and I am still seeing double, so I'm not going to do much in the way of formatting. I tried to make the font big enough to proofread, but might have still missed a few things. Anyway, here's the RP.
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The morning of April 11th
The crowds, the noise, the smells; they seem to assault the senses simultaneously. He can smell the fresh baked bread coming out of the ovens at a nearby café, cinnamon buns seem to waft along on the breeze as a Chicago flight departs and the passengers scatter like insects. He can hear the voices, single out specific languages and emotions. He spots a happy German family welcoming what must be a daughter home from university for the holiday. A mother walks by scolding her young son in Swedish before noticing his interest and halting her berating. He eyes a young woman struggling to speak English to a well dressed man who smiles and hugs her, all the while praising her in Korean. All this noise, seemingly blending together when you don’t pay attention … is like music to a well traveled man like himself. He’s seen the inside of more airports than he can remember over the course of his career. From O’Hare and Logan, to Vegas and Mumbai, Baltimore/Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport is by far his favorite. Perhaps it’s because it’s where he feels closest to home. Even now, preparing to board a plane in his white Boston Bruins jersey, he could not deny that Baltimore was home.
He exits the plane and stands in the terminal taking in the sensory overload for a moment before grabbing hold of his carry-on and making his way through the throng of people and towards the neon sign bearing the Einstein Brothers logo. He tosses down a ten spot, leaving the change as a tip, and grabs his beverage and bagel before he finds a seat overlooking the crowded main thoroughfare. He turns it on and immediately realizes his wife sent him some messages while he was in mid flight. He takes a moment to answer her and she responds to him right away.
The man continued to swagger down the center of the room, head turning from shop to shop before stopping and nodding his head towards a man working behind a Plexiglas counter. Only a minute later he was plopping himself down backwards into an adjacent seat while holding out the small container and smiling.
“Chip mate?”
Davison peered down at the golden, perfectly fried delights and pulled one out.
“You know you can’t win me over with French Fries alone, Bobby boy.”
The man, this… “Bobby,” smiled and pulled his dark sunglasses down his nose so he could look at Davison proper. Screwing up his face and nodding he pushed them back into place with a knuckle before popping another chip into his mouth.
“You know mate,” Bobby says as the sight of the half chewed food makes Davison turn his attention in front of himself. “I had to give up some rather important … ah … meetings ta meet you here. Least you can do is treat me nicely before I tell you to bugger off.”
Bobby Donnelly ladies and gentlemen! Possibly the single most sleazy, underhanded, despicable and ruthless man to ever come out of Manchester… New Hampshire. The accent is as fake as just about everything else about the man. There are few people out there today who have been on the business end of a beat down more than this man. Which is probably why he’s always been so fond of ‘larger than life’ clientele; oh, probably forgot to mention that Donnelly was also Davison’s former agent slash manager.
“Bobby, you didn’t fly over here so I could play house with you,” Davison reaches over and grabs two fries, shaking them at Donnelly before biting down on them. “I called in my favor so the ball is in your court.”
Donnelly is silent for a moment, a feat in and of itself, but quickly counters with a smile.
“Favor … well, you should owe me the favor mate. After all, I did make you a very rich man …”
Davison interrupts with a quip
“Money, might I add, that you later ran off with.”
Donnelly shrugs his shoulders and picks at a chip
“Sticks and stones, mate. Sticks and stones.”
Davison turns to face his longtime compatriot
“I’m going to cut to the chase. I’m not the stupid kid who is perpetually in morning. I’m not blind. I’m not clueless. I know you’ve got some sort of angle here. So, tell me, what can you do for me Bobby?”
Davison stares Donnelly down, not to intimidate the man. He was too oblivious to be intimidated. However, it was important to Ken to assert his dominance because if Bobby caught even a whiff of weakness, he’d pounce.
“Well,” he says while picking a burnt piece off the bottom of the box and flicking it with his thumb and middle finger, watching it cartwheel in the air before coming to rest on a carpeted area. “I’ve been doing to asking around mate and it seems to me like you’ve got yurself a right little problem here. Think about it mate,” Donnelly holds his arms out in front of himself as if painting the picture for Davison. “You didn’t exactly live a safe life right? You’ve taken more beatings than I have and you aren’t exactly what they look for in candidates.”
Davison looked crushed. Granted he knew that even bringing Donnelly in on this was grasping at straws at best. This was a guy who made a living making promises that he probably couldn’t keep … but it was still worth a shot. If there was an ass out there who actually could do what he promised it’d be Donnelly.
“Bobby, you’re a good guy,” Davison slaps him on the leg and stands up. “I’d be an idiot to give up now, you know that right? But if they think that I’m broken goods, then I am going to have to find something else to do after wrestling. I have to get home. Sorry for wasting your time.”
Davison reaches down and grabs his carryon, slinging it over his shoulder. Donnelly, looking panic stricken, leaps to his feet and grabs Davison’s bag in a poor attempt at holding him back.
“Don’t bloody do this mate; give me a shot and if I don’t deliver…” Donnelly looks at Davison, his eyes wide and bloodshot. “Well, you won’t exactly be any worse off eh?”
Davison turns around, breaking the hold Donnelly had on his bag, and looks right into his eyes.
“Fine. You think you can get this figured out? Do it. Just don’t make any promises you can’t keep… “mate.”
With that Davison turns and begins walking through the airport and heads for the nearest exit. Behind him Donnelly breaks into a shaky smile. Cupping his hands around his mouth he shouts at the back of Davison
“I’ve got this … I promise!”
With that he lets his head hang down to his chest for a moment as he collects himself. As he lifts it up he runs his hands through his hair, smoothing it back and takes a deep breath and adjusts his sunglasses before disappearing into the crowd.
The night of April 21st
This has not been the best of weeks for “Godly” Ken Davison. Last week, he and Courtney Pierce had taken another step forward by defeating Zoey Lukas and JMont. The following night, Ken had added another World Championship to his collection. But at what cost? As a result of wrestling two matches so quickly after the abomination two weeks prior to that, he had been taken to a specialist for emergency eye surgery. After falling asleep on the car ride home, and being so out of it that he didn’t even remember getting in the house, let alone upstairs and into his bed, he awoke feeling like he had gotten punched in the left eye socket by Mike Tyson. We’re talking “1986 knocked Marvis Frazier out in 17 seconds” Mike Tyson. We’re talking “Final Boss of Punch-Out!!!” Mike Tyson. To think that one needle and a few shots with a laser could knock him on his ass so easily felt, somewhat embarrassing. The same man who drove home 11 hours while bleeding out from razor wire was taken out by a few little beams of light.
Despite all of this, he remains determined. Ken Davison's history is well documented. He wasn't going to let a little thing like razor wire deter him from his goal. In fact, he is, at this moment jumping rope against doctor’s orders. It was one of the few activities that did not seem to aggravate his still healing wounds. He is on a mission. He is driven. The rigidity of his body as he leaps repeatedly over rope so as to move as few muscles as possible is decidedly regimented, but it seems to be working for him. Finally stopping, his muscles finally relax as he sits down on the cot in his cabin.h
“Returning from an injury is one of the most incredible psychological phenomenons. It is quite rare to find the competitor in our sport who can say that they haven’t had one. In his or her journey, every step back is actually a setup for a comeback in your injury, maybe exactly the comeback that's going to put you on the map. But what about me? What about the GKD, “Godly” Ken Davison? It's about time that people put some respect on my name. You can look at the hundreds, thousands, hell, millions of men and women who have competed in this industry over the years. Each and every one of them started with a dream. Where I am now, that was never the part of the dream. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would be fortunate enough to win as many championships as I have. I never entertained the thought that I would make history in several companies. I never thought that I'd be inducted into any Hall of fame. To date, I've been inducted in four.”
“I suppose it's appropriate then, that I look upon myself as an unsolved mystery. I know that's the name of this tour and I'm even more aware of how cliche that sounds. Ask yourself who in their right mind would do the things I've done for as long as I have. it's not just to drive to be the best. That drive is there but there is more to it than that. What would cause any man in their right mind to continue to do the things that I do at my age? I thought long and hard about this. Hell, those assholes in management have stuck us in a fucking lodge in the middle of these creepy ass woods, like Jason Voorhees is going to jump out and kill whichever one of us is considered the slut. Why would I stay away from my pregnant wife, my daughters, my entire life?”
Ken pauses, stopping to try and pin it down. He folds his fingers into a steeple in front of his mouth.
“I suppose I don't have a good answer for that. Maybe it's the violence. Maybe it's the adrenaline, when you can take the crowd and pull their strings getting them to react to each and every little thing you do. I won’t lie, there’s a certain euphoria in having that kind of control. Maybe it's just the fact that I don't know anything else. I suppose that's my weakness. Everything else in my life has changed. Literally, everything else in my life has changed. everything from the woman I've loved, to the friends I've kept, the one constant I've had in this life has been professional wrestling. That is why I refused to step back after my last injury. That is why I stand here today. I've been many things in this company; A winner, a loser, a champion, a hero, a villain. No matter where I have stood, I have always been a fighter. I have always stood up for what I thought was right at that moment. You can call me many things, but the most important of those is authentic.”
“I would be lying if I didn't acknowledge the synergy between J2H and Devona. Of all the teams remaining in this tournament, I feel the two of you may be the most dangerous. Courtney and I were strangers coming into this. I'm not going to lie to you and pretend that we're best buddies or that we're going to be exchanging Christmas cards this year. I'm going to be authentic. I'm going to tell you that just because of how well the two of you get along that does not mean that the two of you will win this match. After losing the Sin City Wrestling Heavyweight Championship, I am looking to repair my name, my reputation, my very existence in this company. I know that a lot of people joined this because they wanted championships. I've had championships. I'm not here for that reason. I am here for my legacy. Perhaps, that's why the two of you came back for this. I know your names. I know your resumes. I know it's been about six years since either one of you has done a Kendamned thing in this company.”
Davison stops himself, taking a few deep breaths which causes him to wince in pain due to the adrenaline wearing off. The pain seems to bring all the passion Davison had right back to the surface.
“I refuse to be you, Devona. I refuse to come this far in the tournament just to fall short. I know that you've been a finalist before. Merely being a finalist is not acceptable to me. If I were to settle for being a semifinalist, that would just eat me up inside. I do not settle. I will not allow myself to fall short. You do not go through a business such as this referring to yourself as a motherfucking God by settling for second best. The beginning of this year was an awakening for me. I got complacent and that's the only reason that Finn Whelan beat me. Losing my first three singles matches this year.. prior to that I never even lost two matches in a row. That’s on me. I have no one else to blame. Those losses, they made me realize that I am so much more. It ignited that fire that I had forgotten existed. It reminded me of the man who stood behind the Pulpit and preached the Gospel of “Godly” Ken Davison. That gospel was clear, concise, and prophetic. “Godly” Ken Davison, simply put, is the best wrestler in this business. I can no longer allow the tenderness, the softness, that I have shown to control me. I will not be second best and it most certainly will not come because of the two of you.”
“I can't believe that it took me so long to get in the right headspace. I cannot believe that when I started this promo I was trying to be the nice guy. The nice guy has gotten me nowhere. I'm not going to tear the two of you down with my words, but I will most certainly do so with my actions. “Godly” Ken Davison… Sin City Wrestling Internet Champion… former two-time Sin City Wrestling World Champion. Edge our names in the history books: Courtney Pierce, “Godly” Ken Daivson, 2023 Blast From the Past Champions.”
The thing about Ken Davison is that he could not sleep well in strange houses. Throughout his childhood and adolescence, his mother had dragged him from one end of the country to the other, staying nowhere longer than a month or two. So many terrible things had happened to him in so many terrible places that Ken had eventually learned to view each new house not as a new beginning, not with hope for stability and happiness, but with suspicion and quiet dread. As he lay here in the cabin provided by Sin City management, there was a sense of trepidation. At this point in his life, he had been freed of his troubled mother for thirty years and free to stay only where he wished… except now. These days, his life was almost as stable as that of a cloistered nun, as meticulously planned as any bomb squad's procedures for disarming an explosive device, and without any of the turmoil on which his mother had thrived. Aside from his recent hospital trips, the only thing that changed the routine tended to be the destinations of his flights.
Nevertheless, this first night in the cabin, Ken was reluctant to undress and go to bed. He sat in the darkness in a medallion-back armchair at one of the two windows in the cabin, gazing out at the moonlit forest. Thankfully, he had some cell signal, but in her delicate condition, Ken was reluctant to bother her in the middle of the night.At the other end of the cabin was another member of the SCW roster. Ken had no idea who it was, nor did he care. It wasn’t Mac. It wasn’t Goth. Anyone else was foreign to him. It might be Vaugn, but the two of them barely knew one another. Ken stared out the window, longing for the warmth for Kyra’s body next to his. Between that and his upcoming tournament match, hopefully matches, he seemed to be the most restless person on Earth at that very moment. Despite the goings on elsewhere in his career, he had made Blast from the Past his number one priority. He pondered a lot of what he was saying and experiencing, weighing the pros and cons of each and every decision. He is, after all, the UGWC World Champion. The suits in UGWC weren't exactly happy that one of their superstars was taking a chance that he might get injured, but Davison would not allow himself to miss this opportunity. Besides, it’s not like they showed any concern for SCW when they booked him in that death match.
J2H and Devona would be a tough opponents, Davison knew that, but the fire that burned inside him was a blazing inferno, engulfing him with a contemptuous hatred for himself. The fact that Ken allowed himself to become one of Masque's pawns, quite frankly, pissed him off. That had not gone anywhere near according to plan. Ken knew he was better than that. If he had focused on his own career, instead of trying to make good with Amber, he would have been far more dangerous. As much as he hated to admit it, but he would just be a pawn, taken out by a woman who saw herself to be queen, a woman who had a destiny to fulfill. Except… that destiny would never be fulfilled. In fact, all of the players were now gone, except for himself. The problem that Davison faced was that he had allowed himself to become a compassionate deity, instead of the benevolent dictator he claimed to be, he acted more like a guardian angel.
The crows cawed in the night sky, floating over the forest even at this late hour. It was amazing how this house seemed to offer the views of so many things. If it wasn't for the waves of the lake with the wind causing it to gently mimic the waves of the ocean, he would feel totally out of place. The clouds stretch across the sky, obscuring the view of the moon hanging in the air. A shiver racked his body as the night air continued to pass through the open window. He knew this feeling. The rain would be coming soon. His attention shifted back to this Sunday, and the colossal shadow of J2H and Devona that loomed overhead. His train of thought, however, was singular in its focus. He could not worry about anything but Sin CIty right now. He must defeat J2H or make sure that Courtney defeats Devona.
Davison stares off into the distance. The rain had begun falling. Before his mind could wander, the gentle vibration of his phone caused him to break his concentration. It was Kyra. She had apparently not been asleep as Ken had surmised.
“What's wrong, babe?”
“Just thinking.”
“I couldn't sleep. Something told me that I should check on you.”
Ken didn’t even question the timing of Kyra’s call. Before the two of them became a couple, he had always doubted things like empathy or psychic connections and the like. But, when it came to Kyra, she just knew. She always knew.
“Thanks, mama.”
“What's on your mind?”
“What else?”
Kyra laughs to herself, knowing how into his own head Ken gets.
“Would you stop it? We discussed this. I don’t mind that you are away. You’re providing for us, all of us. But, I wanted to make sure you had something.”
Ken leans up, grunting as he tries to make himself comfortable. He opens up the gallery on his phone and doesn’t see anything unusual.
“Um, I don’t see any naked pictures…”
“You’re such a dirty old man. Now, in your laptop bag, I put a DVD in there. You might want to watch it.”
“Oh? Is that from the special collection?”
“No, jackass. While your fool ass was in the hospital I went and burned as many Devona and J2H matches as I could onto that disc.”
“Well, that’s disappointing,” Ken’s voice seems to reflect genuine let down.
“Hey, Ken,” Kyra pauses. “Can I tell you something without you getting upset?”
There’s a pause from both of them, as though the air had left both of their rooms. Ken lefts out a deep sigh before answering.
“Of course, mama. You can tell me anything.”
Kyra wasn’t usually this emotional, but pregnancy was getting to her. Ken could hear the sniffle through the phone, even as she tried to stifle it.
“Remember that trip to the hospital? The one after the match with Cervantes?”
“How could I forget?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you were barely with it because you decided to drive your ass home from Chicago?”
There isn’t any anger in her voice. There is only concern.
“Of course I do. I told you “Three years ago, I loathed you. I used to dream about you getting hit by a cab, or poisoned. Then we had our little adventure up in Carnage and things started to change. Things changed when we kissed. And when you told me about your kid. Even when you checked me out when we were naked. But I didn’t realize any of this until I was driving alone, in a car, wifeless. This made me remember that you are my reason for living and I don’t ever want to leave you alone. I don’t ever want to leave you alone or worry you or giving you a moment of doubt ever again.” In fact, I told you it was the clearest thought I ever had in my life. Even if that was a lie.”
“The fuck do you mean that was a lie?”
Now she was angry.
“The clearest thought I ever had in my life was the first time I said I loved you, the first time our lips touched, then the first time we made love. In each of those moments I knew that you were my everything and you still are.”
“Then can you please cut down on the deathmatches. I want you around when our kid is born. You can’t play God forever.”
“Mama, I don’t play God. Playing is for children.”
“Damn, you need to use that in a promo.”
Ken lets out a laugh snort.
“Too late. Filmed it. What time is it anyway?”
“It’s 3:04 in the morning.”
“Get some sleep. I’ll be back beside you where I belong before you know it.”
“I love you, Ken. I know I don’t say it as much as you do, but I do.”
“I know. I love you, too.”
The last thing Ken hears before the phone disconnects is his wife kissing the phone.
