Post by dylanblack on Aug 5, 2023 14:29:35 GMT -6
October 18th, 2019
Flanagan's Public House, London City
“Well fook me, the old bastard lives!” Ah Gerry, who would have thought hearing your raspy voice could cheer me up so much.
“Gerry you smelly piece of shit, you’re still running this pub?”
“Who else would put up with fuckers like you waltzing in!” The jovial and flushed-faced fool makes his way around the bar to meet me, not with a handshake as usual but an open-armed hug. I didn’t expect the embrace but I got to say, it’s a welcome surprise. His demeanor is the same as always, jolly and loud as stereotypical of an aged Irish bartender. He motions towards an empty bar stool so I plonk my arse upon it, gear bags placed by my feet.
“Tommy lad, it’s been a long damn time. Last I saw you in here you were drinking to kill yourself, throwing it back like there was no tomorrow.” There nearly wasn’t, he’s not far off on that observation. Last time I sat here drinking I had just walked out of the AXW. I’d left my belt up for grabs between Dreadvan and Effigy, with no consideration for my future or my destiny. I was a fucking mess.
“I wasn’t in my right mind back then Gerry, I was in a dark place.”
“I remember, your mate was laid up in the hospital after a bad accident and you were in mixed minds about this wrestling lark. So… how did things turn out?”
Fucking terrible to be honest.
“Not as good as planned. My pal Elijah, Synn as you met him, he passed away not long after that. I was with him when he… anyway, he’s in a much better place now.”
“And you are too I hope?”
“Yeah yeah, much better! Fuck, when you met me I was at rock bottom. Shit, worse than rock bottom.”
“Cock bottom!” Hah, fucking Gerry.
“That’s the one! I wasn’t sure of myself with the wrestling world, wasn’t sure if it was for me anymore. I was an old man, rough from the streets and they had me fighting young stars like Anomoly, Arnold's, Dackle's, had me fighting midget lumberjack matches and walking around with two belts on me… it was all too much, too fast.” I’m not even lying, I feel like the whole thing was a blur, one day I’m back fighting for the price of a fucking sandwich and the next I’m the European Champion. I go to take a shit, come out and I’m the AXW Champion! Didn’t even have time to digest it or enjoy it before the whole world was out to get me, and ghosts of my past were back to join the madness.
“And how are ya now? Still thinking it’s all too much?”
“Gerry, if I was to tell you I’d need all night and a bottomless bottle of scotch.”
“The scotch I can do, and you’ve caught me on a slow night too. Everyone’s up the road at some Book of Mormon show so I won’t be busy for a while.” He turns and grabs a bottle of Glenfidditch, the cheapest edition. He pours out a couple fingers into a glass and makes himself up one too. “Tommy, last time I saw you… Fuck, I thought it would be the last. I thought you were dead and gone. I'm glad to see you haven’t kicked the bucket after all.”
“Cheers to that pal.” We clink our glasses and neck the smoky fire nectar into our guts. Gerry starts to refill as I clear my throat with a barrage of dry coughs and wheezes.
“Yer not gone soft on me after all this time are ya?” He looks at me with a baffled look on his face. I used to frequent this pace a lot during my homeless days, and a lot more when the AXW started pay rolling me. Gerry has seen me up and down, wasted and plastered. But he’s never seen me struggle with a glass of fire water.
“Been staying off the hard hooch a while, been on the beers only. Part of my cleaning up my act… *cough*... fuck, no wonder I took the break!”
“Hah, well get this into ya and you’ll be right as rain.” He makes sure the next two glasses are over poured, not to shoot but to sip. Gerry wants to hear a fucking story.
“Alright Ger, just for you, the story of my life the last two years… shit, where to even start?”
That’s no joke, where do I even fucking begin.
Night of Anonymous, July 23rd 2018. The final night the StormCrow walked the halls of the AXW as European Champion. The last time Tommy Kelly would be a threat to the wrestling world, the rabid hobo that just won’t die. Well, this night wasn’t what it should have been. This night was wrong, all wrong. The air, the atmosphere, even the fucking vibe of people… this wasn't a night for victory and success.
This was the night I finally kill myself.
I remember my music hitting, people cheering my name and the crowd going wild. They had already seen some big fights earlier in the night, Shawn Rossdale retaining his title and Duke Kosloff wrecking a ring full of lads. Then came our time to shine, our mid-card spectacular. Effigy trying his luck against the newly arrived behemoth that was Dreadvan, and in the last corner the undefeated, record breaking European Champion… the StormCrow! Fuck yeah, anytime I walked to the ring and heard my music play, heard the fans chirping me it felt magical. Amazing. This night however… I just wanted to die.
Neck-deep in a bottle of Jack Daniels, I remember the steward coming to my door to tell me my match was up next and I could barely fucking stand. I was sloshed! I’d been on it all night, my nose was full of Bolivia’s finest and I’d popped a handful of Xanax to even the mood but nothing took away my pain... Guilt.
My buddy was in the hospital because of me, on a one way trip to the grave because of me. I comatosed one of the best stars to ever grace the ring, all because I was a fucking idiot. And tonight would be no exception. They helped me up, splashed water on my face and dragged me to the gorilla position just in time. Fuck, I still had the bottle of Jack in my hand! So out I went, on my last ever night as European Champion… blind drunk and without a care in the world.
Needless to say I slapped, punched, kicked and bit me way through the ring but to no avail. I’ll never forget sitting there looking up, Effigy breathing hard as he did his best to cement his name in the superstar annals. Dreadvan, heavy as a truck pounding on me to stay down, starving for his piece of the pie. Two young kids that could both be superstars and there was me as champion. Some old fucking prick that just won’t stay down. It clicked, even through my drunken stupor... this isn’t me anymore. This isn’t what I should be doing. Both these guys are superstars. Both these guys deserve their time to shine. Not this old fuckface cunt. So I made my mind up, I grabbed what mattered most to me at that moment, and walked up the ramp with my bottle of bourbon. And that was it. I turned my back on the fans, the challengers, the entire AXW.
I was done.
While the fight was going on, I was stumbling through the halls looking for a way out. I heard the bell ring, I heard the fans cheer but all I could manage to do was sob like a little baby. Eventually I got myself into a cab and went on my way to London Regional where Synn was laid up. Hooked up to machines in a deep coma, his life was those instruments. I know he was still alive, I know he didn’t want that situation but neither did I. I did him a favour. I did the only thing I could do at that time, the last decent thing I’ll ever do for my best friend… I unplugged the machine.
And so begins a year of drug addictions, manky hookers and drinking myself to fucking death. The grave was too good for me, I knew it and so did the world. So I punished myself in another way. I drowned out absolutely everything.
“Shit Tommy… I never knew. Why didn’t you come here, come find me?”
“Gerry, the drink was my demon. Coming to you would have only ruined your life too, so instead I ran into the darkness and left everything behind.” And ran I did. I stole handbags, robbing shops, I grabbed whatever could be pawned for heroin money and ran. Rock bottom? No… much much worse. “I was in a dark place for a very very long time…. Then one day somebody recognized me. A kid on the street saw me, mentioned the Crow nickname and something clicked… like a door opened. I had to fix things, I had to come back.”
“And here you are.”
“And here I am. It wasn’t easy, cleaning up like that. AXW was under new management too so trying to get back in the doors was a fucking nightmare. But y'know, they let me. They let me slip back in and said they’d set me up where I left off. I could fight my way back to the Euro belt, and maybe one day become a champion once more.”
“So...did you?” He asks with such investment in the story. Gerry, fucking top bloke.
“I fucking did Gerry, I fought my ass off and beat all who came at me. I even took a few swings at an old rival of mine, even drawing with the Anomoly. That’s impressive considering I spent a year on the streets with a needle in my arm! But this was it, this was my saving grace. My second chance. I won a match and got a chance to face their champion for the gold and all.”
“You became champion!” Gerry, so kind. So sweet. But so predictable.
“Course not, I fucked it all up again didn’t I. Took off to the states on a wild goose chase, met an old friend named Hyperion and joined his new group in another federation. Big name players, big time fame. All I had to do was keep my head down and not fuck up. And it was going well, it IS going well. I was the fucking United States Champion up to a couple weeks back!”
“Fuck is that right, are you still?”
“No belt on the waist means no gold sadly. But, here's the thing… next weekend I get the biggest opportunity of my career. I get the chance to win it back, beating not only the guy who took it from me but also the guy who I beat for it already. Mark my words, I’ll be the United States Champion again. But while that’s nice, while that’s something every star should dream of…”
“...you want that European title back instead?” Gerry, he fucking gets it. The United States gold is a huge honor, a massive achievement don’t get me wrong. But the European belt… I came off the streets to win that. I had to fight Arnold with light tubes to win that. I wore that belt proudly and broke all past records. It signifies my time in modern wrestling, it cements my name in the halls of fame at AXW. It… it means everything to me.
“I have an opportunity to win it back Gerry. I have the chance to be champion once more. Not United States, not European… but BOTH. I don’t know many who’ve done that before, but if I win this match next week at the Legion for AXW, and the same for AWF at their big pay per view… the StormCrow…”
“Will be on top of the fucking world! Cheers to that!” We clink glasses, and for the first time it feels real.
Holy shit, this is actually happening.
“So, who ya fighting for it?”
“Remember the kid I told you that I fought before? Big fella build like a brick shit house? Him. And another lad named Brad Swann. Dropped the name recently but still the same guy. Used to be a cool kid back in the day, he and me started AXW at the same time. I liked him, but he’s never been worth a piss. Now however, he’s the one wearing the gold. He’s the champion. And despite memories and time, he’s not going to go down easily. I got old but he got good. Same with Dreadvan. Those two guys are going to come for me, and I hope I can take it.”
“Shit, got your hands full there. Two mad lads against some old drunken fart.” Two? I wish.
“Not two… three. And the last guy is a doozy. Goes by Scorpion, face paint and all that jazz. Dude is wild, vicious. A legend round these halls. He’s about my age really, old bones and all that. But that doesn’t mean shit, I know how unpredictable I can be at times. But this guy… two-time European Champion, held the belt when the XHF federation went under and then offered it up when AXW opened. Now, he’s coming back to claim it once more. The guy is a born champion, the man fucking fights.” And that’s no exaggeration, Scorpion managed to rattle Arnold on occasion, one of the toughest cunts I’ve ever faced. This is no joke.
“Well then, sounds like you better be getting ready.” He raises his glass to mind and necks his scotch. “But I ‘spose one or two for the road never hurt nobody.” He shoots me a wink, and I give him a smirk. Gerry, good man, too good for me. He refills the glasses as the pub stays as quiet as ever.
“The is it Gerry, this is the last night of AXW. They are closing the doors after this night. I either go down in history as a Champion, two-times like Scorpion. Reigning champion after the closure, like Scorpion.” Or, we have the biggest fucking Euro clash of the century and all get smashed after!
“You’ve got a Champion, a human wrecking ball and a living legend ahead of you. But tonight Tommy, least you can do is put away some scotch with an old friend.”
“Gerry, I’ll drink to that. AXW might be closing but this pub, the Legion, the European belt… those things will never die. May this Crow soar forever!”