Ain’t No Sunshine

[Ryan LeCavalier]

Ain’t No Sunshine

When someone is dreaming of winning a championship it                   pulls them forward, inch by inch.

The FGA World Champion is gone.

Management wants to crown a new one?

A tournament shall suffice…or so they say.

They want to take something from her; they don’t own it.

She wants to take something from them; she doesn’t own it.

She has felt this tug before, wandering through the white noise of wrestling, the snow, the bright terrain that referent of a void. She has felt this tug for years, the particular way it pulls on her forward gripping her by the neck, choking her, the way it begs for her (substantial) instead of the dream her mind conjured subconsciously.

For years, she’s struggled to heed its call.

But now, just as she has the last (one. two. three or so) times, she searches within her own chest. She grasps onto that symbolic rope.

She lets go of resistance, and lets it pull her forward.

She is so close;
( she can taste it,
even drink it in through her palms. )

A thought, un-dream, fleeting. She wanted no part in the fictitious: tournament or the charade.

She’s conflicted, unsure if she follows her instincts or not. There’s a part of her that remains unchanged that wants to rise from the ashes renewed.

Still, there’s only a single question that can be posed:

Does this truly fucking matter?

Yeah, well, your career can be cruel and then it’s over.

That’s what she cited, with a shrug of her decidedly-not-slim shoulders, as reason enough for things having gone the way they had. There was no admission of guilt without feeling guilty. Fanfuckingtastic. The idea of an fly-by-night tournament to save a probable sinking ship, but it’s better than just letting your champion walk out of the company completely. With a championship snug over his shoulder no less. Who wasn’t afraid to show his true colors? Who, rumor has it was upset with being ‘abused.’ Never mind the fact that he won the title on two different occasions or the fact he just main evented Retribution against Chandler Scott (who in her mind was the rightful champion.)

Still, after a few hours alone with nothing but her thoughts and an entire garden to tend for, Ryan herself even hungrier for the company than she is for actual food. Though she didn’t like most of her peers, she could respect their talent. Someone, anyone, could’ve offered to lead the charge in this day and age (BZ: Before Zero and AZ: After Zero) she wasn’t very religious, so there wasn’t a need to get real biblical if not for fun.

Her mind was white noise, fuzz no one could’ve truly have contended with if they were in her company.

Okay, not anyone. One exception. And, of course, the only way her wish could’ve possibly been granted.

A shovel impaled the dirt overturning earth, in a single seamless motion. Heavily gloved she been digging a very precise hole in her backyard for over twenty minutes or so. Next to her was two black stainless steel lock boxes that were custom made. These boxes were reminiscent of two black file cabinets the way they were stacked on top of one another, it was obvious she was trying to hide something or get rid of something all together.

“Nina told me I’d find you back here. What are you doing exactly?”

She heard ‘his’ voice and didn’t turn around, instead she continued to dig her hole.

“I decided to do some gardening,” Ryan answers, “Trying to keep my mind off my obvious shortcomings.”

The voice belonged to no other than Ryan’s father Norman Lecavalier; Norman is a former world championship caliber wrestler, former heir to the Lecavalier throne turned family Patriarchy. It’s not like he wanted the job, over the years he tried to pawn it off on his brothers Ethan (her cousin Misha’s father) was his latest victim. Normally Norman wouldn’t be anywhere near her place of residence, because he didn’t get out much. These days he’s much more akin to a gargoyle watching from atop the family mansion back in Winnipeg. Though he was a brute of a wrestler, his legendary infidelity and cocaine habit almost ruined him. Somehow he managed, weathering the toughest of storms to rise from the ashes as the CEO of a very wealthy company – said company is well-known for data research, while its’ maintained a mainframe of different projects underneath a single umbrella.

“Your shortcomings? C’mon, that doesn’t sound like you…” he pauses, then pockets both his hands before continuing “Listen, I know I’m not always there—still, you can talk me about anything.”

Ryan grunts as her gloved hands slip on her shovel breaking her concentration, “I rather not.” And then frustration slips, she’s quick to remove her gloves. “This doesn’t concern you. I can take care of it myself.”

The fact that Ryan said it didn’t concern him burned, granted over the years they didn’t have the best of relationships. He’s always been so crass yet his sternness could be traced back to his youth. He’s always prided himself on putting family first, if you weren’t a use to one of his causes; you didn’t matter, nor did you have a say in the proceedings. His mind’s always been bright, enabling him to see the bigger picture. However, he’s pretty unapologetic and unsupportive of his only seed in life.

He nodded pursing his lips in as he approached her shoulders broad; chin high, and ego on full tilt. Once he was in front of her he reached out his hand toward the shovel, “You talk, I’ll dig.”

Reluctantly Ryan moved aside turning over the shovel to her father; quickly she folded her arms rebelling, the sound of the shovel hitting dirt was music to even his ears, “Where do you want me to start?” Ryan asked.

“Wrestling.” He snorted, shoveling dirt carefully to the side of him, while he made sure not to get any on his suit.

“I haven’t been doing so hot as of late, everything I’ve done lately just hasn’t been working, and as much as I love wrestling right now – I don’t think I’m built to continue—”

He interrupts swiftly “Why’s that?” another shovel full of dirt is turned over as Ryan’s left speechless; she’s searching for the answer.

“I’ve been losing, not by a slim margin either. I’m literately being out wrestled by wrestlers you’d least expect.” Instantly she began looking tense; she ran her fingers through her hair, as she often did when she was nervous. “My passion I either – I just can’t bring myself to overcome the odds.”

Clicking his tongue he eighty-sixed another mound of dirt on the center of the shovel, he didn’t say anything he just kept listening.

“It’s like opportunity after opportunity I’m forced to sit idle by as someone else gets ahead of me.” She looked forward towards the ground; she definitely was upset by her recent setbacks. “FGA alone is frustrating enough. They just let a three-time champion in Zero McHannon walk out of the company. They just lost their champion, their championship. They think the solution to their problems is what? Crowning another champion by throwing a makeshift champion.” Ryan seemed a lot more miffed than a few minutes ago.

“Zero Mchanon?”

Ryan pulled her apple iphone from her pocket, ended up on Google with a few taps of her thumb; both thumbs rejoicing in typing into image search to pull up a picture of the currently AWOL champion in Zero McHannon.

“That’s Zero.”

Ryan’s father shook his head, “He looks like a prick,” Norman mused further noting Zero’s tattoos.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Norman raised his hand, “Save it—get to the rest of your issues.”

Ryan’s eyes hit the ground again clenching her phone slightly. “I went to the doctor the other day and I got some news…”

“What kind of news?”

She tilts her head slightly, “I didn’t tell Nina this but there’s a chance something went wrong in my last fight.” then she sighed, “I’ve been having random problems with my short-term memory. My doctor said that it could be related to the fact I’ve got a history with concussions through wrestling. However, he said that nothing is certainly wrong right now. He thinks there’s a chance I might get into something I won’t come back from.”

Norman’s eyes shifted towards her, “What are the symptoms?”

“Right now I’ve been battling light-headiness that started shortly after matches. I’ve been really bad with time, there is slight mood swings. I seem to ache more in training than I do in matches – due to the adrenaline rush. Of course short-term memory loss…”

He nodded unconditionally. “Any precautions being taken?”

“They want me to take an extended period of time off. It’s supposed to be a year at least. They think it could save my career; my thing is that I can’t. I’d be giving up on yet another opportunity. I’d be giving up on what Nina and I have slowly built up with the purchase of this house, the fact we’re supposed to be starting a family.”

There were so many things he wanted to say that might’ve upset her, instead he stuck the shovel into the ground and stepped towards her.

“We love you and support you, this is your life and you’re your own person.”

Zero McHannon is a fighting champion.

That’s funny. I can’t even breathe, I'm laughing so hard right now. Can someone tell me when I last laughed this hard, because I can’t remember for the life of me the last time I’ve laughed this long or this hard?

Thank you, Zero, I truly needed that. They say that laughter adds years onto your life, and I think your departure singlehandedly added at least twenty. I’m not sure if I should be grateful for, or severely annoyed by that, but who really is to say?

For someone who’s been to the top of the mountain thrice, Zero, you sure picked an opportune time to show his true colors. For someone who’s talked a lot trash on his way to beating Chandler Scott at Retribution, you’ve got a really funny way of showing what a world beater you truly are. I won’t even touch the whole emotion behind it, because according to the internet you’ve got PTSD – I wouldn’t want to trigger you. I get enough flack from our peers as is, thinking that I can’t wrestle. I don’t need that drama in my life. I can see it now ‘Ryan, you instinctive bitch you triggered Zero’s PTSD’ then again, only reason I know that is I read that on some half-baked internet rumor site.

I don’t know how any times I can point out everything wrong with you talking out. From the fact verbatim you said that you were undervalued and unappreciated, you lied Zero, there’s no proof you did a god damn thing for FG. Did what Chandler Scott say really get underneath your skin? Who knows, but what I do know is that you’ve proven yourself to be too compulsive in the face of adversity. That’s not the temperament of a champion. If you expect me to say: ‘good, I’m glad he’s gone’ please refrain from thinking ill of me Zero. I get it Zero. You think you’ve amassed thrice as more success than anybody else on the roster. You might be right, you’ve beaten Chandler Scott to the punch – however, in your misguided tantrum you fail to realize a few important points some are befitting of a champion, others are just recent developments on account of your actions.

1. Being FGA World Champion (or any wrestling company’s champion for that matter) is a thankless job.
2. FGA has the right to replace you (any way you see fit).
3. We as a locker room have the right to move on.
4. Champions aren’t supposed to fold underneath the weight of the world.
5. Fujiko was right about you all along.

That’s a laundry list of different strikes against you Zero. I would say I’m just getting started, but I don’t have that kind of time. I already see what happens next – should someone actually win – you’ll come in, like the hack you are and ride in on your dark horse in full knight armor to save the day. You think we can’t see through that, don’t you? I see right through you. The very moment someone actually wins this thing, you’ll reappear triumphant as ever. If that’s exactly what you’re thinking, you’re going to be proven wrong. It’s that simple.

As far as the tournament goes and the sixteen bodies selected, we’re just that. We’re just bodies. Not many people on the roster outside of FGA’s ‘darlings’ have a claim to fame. Only thing notable to date that I’ve done was enter the Dynamic Duos Tournament in errant shot—we know how well that went, we also know how well my record stands in FGA. Rankings aside, I’ve got nothing to lose or to gain from this tournament. I don’t think anybody who truly sees this thing out is going to be able to say, hey, I won the FGA World Championship and actually mean it.

Why might you ask? The belt is gone along with Zero. I’d imagine it’s on top the dresser of whatever sleazy motel Zero decided to check himself into for a ‘quick fix.’ I just pray after the deed is done that he has time out of his busy schedule to watch this Vertigo from his hotel room; it’s the least he can do.

It’s no secret that FGA’s already taken a hit. Look how fast they green lit these matches for Vertigo, either they’ve got something to hide or they were truly worried about the ramifications of Zero’s actions. If they weren’t, I’m sure they would’ve given Chandler Scott another opportunity against whoever won this thing. Now I’m not one to knock the opportunity I’m just smart enough to know when things aren’t going the way they’re supposed too. Had I beaten Annie or Dom, I would’ve made a strong case for being in this tournament. Then again, everybody on the roster already assumes an opinion of me anyway. The matches themselves aren’t the best either. Just lopsided, disheveled chances to mask who they truly want to advance with little to no effort put forth until the later rounds.

That makes sense when you make the match I’ve got: Myself and Sunshine Tony Carmine versus Johnny Canon and Kevin Hardaway. It doesn’t take much detective work to see what’s truly going on. Carmine has always been everyone’s top pick to slide into the role of face of the company at any given time. This is his opportunity as a ‘new king’ to make history while righting the ship. Canon’s also there; I think he’s there just to be fodder for the course. No one in their right mind would want someone who’s so self-centered to become champion again. Finally there’s Kevin Hardaway the muscle of Rubyway. Must suck knowing he doesn’t have his actual tag team partner strapped to his back like their Banjo Kazooie or something.

Canon it’s nothing to chance that we’re finally meeting. You dated my cousin, Misha. Some might say you might’ve had her wrapped around your little finger. And yet she left you. Still, we’re family. And as a family we clean up each other’s messes. She’s really given me quite the briefing on you. Now, I wouldn’t air your dirty laundry – however, you’re lucky I’ve got some sense about me and that I’m so far removed from doing anything ‘street.’ I’ve been known to remove the head or two of enough snakes in the past. Wrestling the British Mamba should be both an honor and a godsend, more than likely it isn’t, because this is Tag Team match, and we’re all coming for blood.

This match should be a preface what the Tournament ‘should’ be about, if it actually held any weight.

As for you Tony. Unfortunately you’re my partner. You’ve built quite the following and the other day you tweeted me and asked me I better have the strength enough to raise Canon, so that you can Dropkick him from the top rope. That’s fitting, isn’t it? Because you’re your reputation precedes you as always. Everything has to be quick and easy, because either you can’t comprehend or you fail short of actually showing any couth. You might think you’re destined for this championship belt, somehow, I’d hold that thought. The reason why I say this is that you’re more likely going to be one of those wrestlers in their mid-forties who overdoses on your drug of choice (my estimation is cocaine) cause it’s easiest to procure on the streets. You can consider me an instrument for your destruction. I’ll carry you into the second round, where I alone will decide where you stand in FGA as a whole.

You don’t have to believe me you can wait and see.

Bill Withers lyrics said it best:

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
It's not warm when she's away
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
And she's always gone too long
Anytime she goes away

And I know, I know,
Hey, I oughtta leave young thing alone
But ain't no sunshine when she's gone

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone
Only darkness every day

You get the picture…

I guess this is me openly saying, first. I don’t want either title. The replica belt they’re about to christen as the ‘new’ FGA World Championship or Zero’s old stolen belt. Respectively they’re both useless to me. I have a plan to dispose of them both.

No one should have the championship, because these fans deserve better.

I want Zero’s head severed on a platter.