Hell Ain't A Bad Place To Be

[The Last Real Man]

July 18th, 2016
Los Angeles, California

*KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK*

Who the fuck could that be at this hour?

That's the thought going through my head as I open my eyes, only to have the scorched by the morning sun. After rubbing them vigorously I grab my phone off the living room table to check the time; it's noon, which is a late start to the day for most people, but for an insomniac like myself that's too early of a start. My body hasn't quite recovered from the alcohol I've polluted it with from the night's festivities.

*KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK*

“Oh fuck off,” I yell out, holding my back as I plod over to my gear bag, pulling out a bottle of painkillers from the small compartment. I pop a handful into my mouth, grinding them to dust with my teeth before swallowing.

*KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK*

“Alright, I fucking heard you,” I cry out in protest, looking around for some clothes to throw one. I'm unable to find any, and instead of leaving the asshole outside any longer to get some garments I'm simply walk to the door wearing nothing but a pair of Calvin Klein briefs. Enraged that'd I’d been awakened from my post hangover slumber, I turn the knob and open the door, ready to tear into the unlucky son of a bitch who's made the mistake of getting themselves in my crosshairs.

“Well helllooooo there,” I say warmly, the rage I once felt being replaced with joy, my libido suddenly jumping at the sight of a nicely shaped, perfectly proportioned redhead.

It's not the type of breakfast I usually have, but I'm not complaining.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Cannon. Just dropping off your mail,” she says. Well what a delightful young woman. How thoughtful of her.

“Well aren't you sweet,” I reply, taking an envelope out her hand, “I don't think I caught your name.”

“Sam.”

“Well Sam, since you were so kind enough to deliver my mail, why don't you come inside, let me whip you up some pancakes or hash browns. I was just about to make breakfast,” I went right for it. She knows who I am. She’s taken a few peeks below the belt already. This’ll be easy.

“Unfortunately I can't’, but here how about I wrote down my number,” she says, taking the envelope back as she errors on the back, “there,” she says, handing it back over.

I'm immediately confused at what I'm reading.

“Is this some type of joke?”

“No,” she replies, putting her purse on her shoulder as she taps the envelope, “you've been subpoenaed,” she announces as she closes the door and runs off.

As I tear open the envelope I pull out the paper, quickly reading it over.

“YOU'VE BEEN SUMMONED FOR A CHILD SUPPORT HEARING ON AUGUST 20th, 2026.”

Fuck.

*************************************************************************

Hell Ain't A Bad Place To Be

The scene opens up to an empty Theater at Honda Center. As we focus on the stage we see a figure sitting in a chair, a bottle of 2002 Dom Perignon Rose Magnum resting beside a black pair of ‘Lionel’ loafers by Ferragamo. The shoes belong to Johnny Cannon, who sits with the FGA World Championship draped over the right shoulder of his black Emporio Armani blazer.

“Success. It’s been said by wiser men than me that it is not to measured by your position in life, but by the obstacles you’ve overcome,” he elaborates, grabbing his bottle of Rose and taking a nice long sip. “As I head toward my first title defense this Saturday in Anaheim, California, I can't help but think about the path the three of us have taken to get here.”

“Zero,” he says, taking another sip. “While we could never walk in each other's shoes - due to mine being too expensive for your tastes, and yours being too obvious of a designer knock off for mine - I understand. I’ve see your growth. I know why you are the way you are.”

“You see, when you fight a man you're able to feel his emotions, his thought, everything they're dealing with -- you can understand and feel their pain, and desires. At All Star Showdown Zero, for the first time I was able to see you for who you really are. I thought I did before, but I was mistaken. It wasn't until then that I was able to peek behind that curtain, behind that wall you’ve built -- that false bravado, the coping mechanism you've used to hide your insecurities.”

“Two Face McHannon,” he mentions, “That's who you've been branded as, but now I understand your identity crises, and I understand why your personality changes like the weather. It's simple; your internal struggle stems from your obsession to prove your self worth, driven by a fear that you’ll never be able to gain the respect and love of the people whose opinions you claim to care nothing about. However, we know that's a lie because you're entire career suggests otherwise.”

“You weren't always the lone wolf; you had people that adored you but you alienated them. You let them get too close, and once they saw through the illusion you casted them away. It was you who turned your back on them, not the other way around. And now you hate yourself. I know what self-loathing looks like; it looks like drunken rants on Twitter -- it looks like domestic violence -- it looks like being fined six figures for destroying company property. You're your only friend, and your own worst enemy. You've spiraled out of control. And you know it. It's why you can't sleep at night, because you have nightmares about what you used to have. You used to have it all. You were an E-Pro World Champion. A PDW Bloodshed Champion. Your life used to be made, but now it's in ruin.”

“And you're to blame. You went from the top of world to the bottom of the well. And I remember -- they never remember your climb but they ALWAYS remember your fall -- and I remember what happened to you after you fell from grace in EXODUS. I remember what happened to you after PDW closed. I remember you disappearing, fading into obscurity, and becoming an afterthought in the annals of wrestling,” he claims, sipping more wine. “And in your isolation you came face to face with the demons you'd created. If you would've acknowledged yourself you might've been able to conquer right the ship. But you didn't, and I understand why.”

“You were crippled by fear, McHannon. You were afraid that you never could put out those fires you started, that you never overcome the bridges you’d burned, that you never could redeem yourself.”

“Most important of all, you were afraid of your own reflection, because every time you looked in the mirror you didn't see yourself -- you saw the Zero McHannon people regarded you as, a fraud.”

“Your reflection terrified you so much that you had to reinvent yourself. You crafted a new image, started wearing less and going out more,” he jokes. “Went and got a One Direction cut and grew out your beard. Defaced your body with more tattoos and traded in your sweats and hoodies for women's jeans and youth fit V-necks.”

“You came back a new man at Glory Road. The ovation you received, it was one of epic proportions. You went on to eliminate the most competitors in the history of the Gold Rush Rumble that night, but you didn't win.” He reminds him. “But your disguise somehow remained intact despite that failure -- despite the fact that your triumphant return had been marred by your inconsistency, with a bunch of consolation prizes in place of the wins you failed to rack up. You go to great lengths to mention how I came up short in my pursuit of the Pride Championship, but you never talk about how you constantly came up short in your quest to reach the same level that Cordy Stevenson and Chandler Scott had achieved at that time.”

“For majority of 2015 all you had to show for the year were arrest warrants, tag losses and no contests, a near three month soap opera co-starring Jimmy Page, and a MOTY nominated Main Event loss to me -- after which you had to reinvent yourself once AGAIN. You promised that you’d be better.” He recants. “And you did. At Final Frontier you finally captured the FGA World Championship. That should have vindicated you. But it didn’t, did it,” he asks, ”People felt that you were a paper champion because you faced no competition on your way there.”

“Nobody remembers the name of the tournament you won to become number one contender. Nobody remembers the names you beat either. We just know you didn't go through me, or Tony, Cordy was injured, Sean Sands was retired, and Dom Harter was suspended right? You didn't beat anyone worthwhile. And you could feel it. The fear that you still weren't good enough, the fear that the world would never love you no matter what you did, it was creeping right back up and it's the reason you fell at Canadian Stampede.”

“Claiming you let Cindy win was a cop out because you didn't possess the courage to face the reality -- the reality that you were the same old Zero, good enough to chase the belt, but not good enough to keep it. And in the wake of that failure you reinvented yourself once more. Changed your persona, your music. No more Gambino, no more fans. You killed the hero to become the villain. But that's your whole prerogative, isn't it? You’re become whoever you need to to get where you want to go -- even if you lose yourself in the process.”

“You eventually reclaimed the pedestal at Gold Rush Rumble, becoming a two time FGA World Champion. That night should have cemented your position at the top of FGA, but it didn't. The acknowledgment you crave eluded you once more because in that same night the sum of all your fears equated to a New Kings victory.” He grins. “When we were both crowned number one contender your career flash before your eyes.”

“You dreaded having to face us because we were your equals, two men that had taken FGA by storm just as you did. But we also represented the means to your end and that's why you worked so hard to get us to turn on one another. It was your only way to survive -- the only way for New Zero to live on. And you got what you wanted. It came down to you and me. Your best vs my best. It was during that match Zero where I felt your fear. You fought with the fear of defeat -- the fear that you were not the confident two time Champion that heralded himself as the measuring stick in FGA -- the fear that all your work would once again be nullified by your inability to live up to your own expectations -- the fear that all the self hate and inflicted wounds you endured, all the lives you destroyed and the people you had to hurt to recreate yourself would be undone and that last thread of sanity you had would be cut.”

“And in the end Zero, your fears consumed you. You thought you could hang with me, but in the end you couldn't even tie my noose,” Cannon closes his eyes for a moment whilst reminisces . “When the dust settled, and I looked down upon you I didn't see the man that proved Chandler doesn't reign supreme, nor did I see the man who killed the legend of Cindy Parker. I saw the man you see in the mirror every day. The real Zero McHannon. A lonely, broken man whose life's importance is solely predicated on holding this,” he glances at the FGA World Title, “because without it, you are what they say you are -- NOTHING -- and the idea that the world is right about you scares the bloody hell out of you.”

“You live in fear of yourself every day, Zero. But you're not the only one. Even kings have fears,” Cannon suggests. “For a week now Tony I've wondered what a man like you has to be afraid of -- a man that's ruling FGA with an iron fist -- a man that considers himself to be FGA’s brightest star. I couldn't figure it out, couldn't put my finger on it -- not until I re-watched All Star Showdown. When they carried you out on that stretcher, everything became clear to me in that moment,” he admits,“When you were put in the back of that ambulance, you felt it all slipping away. When you watched me go on to capture the World Title from a hospital bed, you knew what it meant.”

“It meant you no longer had any excuses -- no more excuses to explain why you couldn't get to the top. People call you a snake Tony because you betrayed Chandler, but there's no need to harp on that anymore because your motivation like Zero’s has always been clear; you're a man who fights only for himself, and like McHannon you need this championship to absolve yourself of all the questionable decisions you’ve made, and quiet the voices in your head that have been talking since you lost the Pride Championship to Johnny Karma -- the voices that doubt you're as legitimate as you think. We talk about being the changing of the guard in FGA, we talk about being the very BEST in FGA -- but that's the thing, you’ve been all talk, with nothing to show for it but a bunch of mink coats, while I've actually done everything I said I would.”

“I'm THE man Tony, and deep down I know that bothers you -- it bothers you because since we joined forces you’ve gone out of your way to paint me as second fiddle, and second in command when in reality it's just as Chris Strike suggested; you're the bronze, and I've got all the GOLD,” he boasts, holding up the FGA World title as he strolls to ringside. “I guess that makes Mako the silver, but that wouldn't be accurate because unlike you he's actually broken through the glass ceiling. All you've done is hit your head on the roof, and that's the thing that scares you the most; the fact that you're too big for the box you've been placed in, yet you're not big enough to bust out of it.”

“We chose to walk this path together, to rule this company together, but as I look around, I don't see you, Tony,” he says, looking around. “While I continue to move forward, you’ve moved to the back,” he claims, looking behind his shoulder now. “You thought I was a stepping stone, someone who would get in the way of the competition allowing you to move to the forefront, but it's you who's failed to keep pace with ME. I said from day one I was the better than you, and you scoffed at the notion. You REFUSED to entertain it -- to think that it might be TRUE. But at ASSV you had no CHOICE but to! You’re an FGA stalwart, one of the longest tenured stars here yet I walked in and did what YOU couldn't do in LESS than a year,” he brags. “How many times have you reached for the stars Tony, only to get grey clouds? You won the 2015 Lions Cup, then Scott HUMBLED you at the 4 Year Anniversary! You won the 2016 Gold Rush Rumble, but then you DROPPED the ball at ASSV!” Cannon shouts, as he reaches ringside. He places his title and bottle on the apron before leaning down to dig under the ring, grabbing a ladder, sliding it in the ring before climbing in himself. He walks into the middle now, stomping his feet on the canvas whilst pointing at it.

“You're a savant in this ring.. You're an innovator in this ring. You’re one of the best wrestlers to ever step foot in this ring. That cannot be disputed. Your resume SPEAKS for itself. Two time Pride Champion. Your win-loss records just as impressive. You’ve wrestled in so many Main Events since Vertigo's inception -- shit, you've been in so many of them going as far back to the DVD tapes. I can't even begin to count them, I don't have enough fingers. But that's it. That's what terrifies you. The realization that while you're ONE of the best in FGA, that's ALL you are. Harter, Scott, Karma, Mine, Storm, Goeun, Taylor and Reid -- they’ve all talked about what it would mean to stop the Kings by beating ME. They're gunning for ME. They want to face ME, because they know what I've known all along -- that I'm THE guy, while you're just another guy.”

“You're just another man who wishes he could wear the crown but doesn't have what it takes to take it. History proves that to be a fact -- and the fact is you’ve been chasing ghosts - the ghost of Scott, the ghost of McHannon and now the ghost of Cannon - but you can't catch us.”

“Every time you've been given an opportunity you’ve proven the moment was TOO big for you. You're the biggest star in the show, but every time you’re put on the biggest platforms and the biggest stages, you shrink under the pressure, under the lights. And that's why your heart will be racing Saturday night. That's why your palms will be sweating, your knees weakening as the nerves rush to the surface -- for beneath your cocky facade lies the truth -- and what’s buried ALWAYS finds its way to the surface -- and the truth is you don't have what it takes to make the climb,” he says, as he sets the ladder up. He then walks under it toward the ropes, grabbing his his wine and championship.

“They say that's bad luck, but I've never needed luck to get here. I’ve never needed anyone. Not Carmine, not Goodrich. I've accomplished everything relying only on my skill and the belief that I'm better than everyone else. But I don't believe that anymore. I know it. Unlike you, I’m not afraid of admitting what I am. I know who I am -- I'm a bad man -- I'm the BADDEST MAN ON THE PLANET,” he proclaims, as he climbs the ladder. “I'm a man who's been counted out,” another rung, I'm a man who's had his accomplishments discredited,” another rung, “I'm a man who's been told he's been given handouts,” another rung, “I'VE EARNED EVERYTHING! I DIDN'T GET TO COMPETE IN ANY LIONS CUPS, ANY TOURNAMENTS! I WASN'T GIVEN AN EASY ROAD! MY PATH TO THE TITLE WAS EARNED THROUGH HEARTBREAK AND HEARTACHE -- THROUGH PAIN AND AGONY -- THROUGH FAILURE AND MISFORTUNE,” he says, as he reaches the top. “THE OBSTACLES IVE OVERCOME MADE ME WHO I AM!”

“But I used to be afraid too,” he says candidly,” I was afraid that I’d never get here again. Fear is a powerful element. It can build you up, or it can destroy you. While you let your fears control you, diminish you, BREAK you, my fear made me stronger -- because my biggest fear is that I wouldn't be able to give my son the world -- that I’d be a failure to him like my father was to me -- but I've overcome that fear gentleman. ”

“I CAME.”

“ I SAW.”

“ I CONQUERED FGA.”

“Zero McHannon. Tony Carmine. Johnny Cannon. We’re the three names that have carried this company for the past year. We’re the three men that have risen above everyone else and this Saturday at Above and Beyond, the three of us will compete in one of the greatest matches in FGA history,” he guarantees, as he chugs his wine to the very last drop, tossing the bottle to the canvas as he sits on top of the ladder, draping the World Title over his shoulder. “The three of us, we are FGA -- but I'm the KING.”

“I'm going to show you what a man without fear is capable of.”

Fade.