Joey Crash: Blessings

The weather was dull and unremarkable. It wasn’t hot nor cold, just dreary and grey. You could look at the sky and have no clue what season it was. The sun fought against the blanket of clouds and eventually bore a hole to shine on a part of the city about a mile away. Crash stepped away from the old velvet curtains he’d been peering out from and sunk down onto the edge of the bed. Upon checking in he’d treated himself to an upgrade and chose the Honeymoon Suite, thinking the king size bed and in-room fridge with flight-sized liquor bottles would help him celebrate the holidays. Instead, the two sets of keys, pair of bathrobes and separate sinks in the bathroom only served to remind him that he was alone. His phone buzzed on the bed next to him and he glanced over to see a new Twitter DM had arrived.

“Thx for the invite Joey but id rather not meet you in a hotel room. Lets talk after the holidays. Hope ur well. Merry xmas”

That was Sophie, who he’d offended by insulting his old manager and her dead dad, directly to her face over a month ago. She’d been distant since that time in the bar. Joey wasn’t sure why he was so cold to her, looking back. Was he drunk? Maybe. Was he physically exhausted and still in pain from his battle against HIS MONSTER? Absolutely. Was he mad at Mick for dying? He’d pondered that question a lot more lately. He told Mick he would get the adulations and victories in spite of him while he lay practically comatose in a hospital bed, unaware he would die less than two weeks later. He’d hoped the answer to this question would come to him naturally but it’s like the earth conspired to hold him in a barren limbo, devoid of the simplest pleasures and realizations. I should stop choosing the cheap motel, he thought to himself.

He checked his phone for the updated Final Fantasy card for both nights - the Power Championship contest had been confirmed. Larry Tact was going to be facing Duncan Shepard on Night Two. This was an interesting development. Crash could at least hang his hat on hating Shepard the goody two shoes bastard has no right to be Power Champion compared to him, or plenty of others in the promotion. But Tact was someone Crash respected - they’ve both had run-ins with Bert and gotten the better of him. They both have ideals for how things should be. Having to face Tact for the belt would create a lot more enemies. Enemies I can deal with, Crash asserted confidently. It’s just that of all those he’d yet faced in Level Up, he was looking forward to sticking it to Shepard the most.

With nothing else to do, the next two days were spent in the same way that Crash had spent many Christmases before under the tutelage of his late manager. The laps around the motel and carpark blended together until autopilot took control of his legs, allowing his mind to wander aimlessly. The picture of a “normal” Christmas was one he had become unfamiliar with since he left home. Once Mick was his manager, it wasn’t long before they hit the road together. There was no more family than him and Mick, to keep everyone else safe. The story was long and not one that Crash was fond of reliving but tonight, the story filled his mind in drips and drabs.

Many Christmases ago when Crash was still a boxer, Mick was in charge of promoting his fights in an illegal boxing ring that was racketed by a mob. There was a formerly magnificent, since turned decrepit bowling alley that was used to host the illegal bouts where Joey had been racking up wins. All the fights were rigged in his favour but he was still training hard and going into each fight knowing the other guy might go into business for himself. On that night, this is exactly what Crash had done. Mick and Crash had gone over the plan for the fight and this was the night where Crash was going to take the fall after going into the fight as a heavy favourite and make the mob a bunch of money to settle Mick’s debt. It was a strange and dangerous way of doing things but it was what Crash was best at and Mick needed the help after gambling his way into trouble with loan sharks.

The fight didn’t go to plan. He was meant to go down half way through the 3rd round following four consecutive left jabs and a right-handed uppercut. The job was to make Joey’s opponent, Mark Lyle, look like he had an outside shot. Joey was to control most of the fight and get knocked out by a surprise burst with a minute to go. The problem was Mark couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut. He talked a lot of shit straight from the opening bell. Crash could barely remember what he even said that set him off - but once it was said, it couldn’t be unsaid. Crash completely rocked him with a haymaker and he staggered back into the corner. The punters exploded into a frenzy and Crash fed off their chaotic frenzy. He ended up bloodying Mark’s nose and knocking a tooth out before he hit the mat and the crowd was uproarious. It was Joey’s most convincing win yet on the boxing circuit. Therein, lay the problem. The consequences of his actions were heavy and they changed his life from that day forward.

Just as he could see Mick in his mind, head in his hands as Joey was announced the winner of the bout, he clattered head first into someone and toppled to the floor. As he snapped back into the present, who turned and started on the person who got in his way.

“Hey watch where you’re fucking going!” The stranger was still on the floor, holding their head which was covered in a red bobble hat beanie.

“You ran into me, asshole!” She looked up at him with vex and disbelief and Crash reflected her gaze as they slowly recognized each other. “Joey? Why did you do that?”

“Sophie! I was— I wasn’t thinking. About anything. I was just running. I thought you said you didn’t want to visit me?”

“I didn’t— but I wasn’t sure if you would see anyone this Christmas if I didn’t show up, and you always leave your location on, it’s a real security issue.” She continued to dust herself off and continued to rub her head through the bobble hat. Crash was jogging weakly on the spot but the awkwardness of the moment brought him to a halt.

“Hot chocolate? I think I saw some marshmallows inside.”

---

[PROMO]

The scene opens with a lighthouse in the background, lit and shining brilliant rays across the dark. As the light rotates circles around, the lens takes a moment to adjust between the bright light and near pitch black. As it comes back around, a silhouette of a man in a long coat can be seen. Another smaller light appears from the bottom, illuminating his face to reveal Joey Crash’s maniacal grin. He’s growing a beard and is wearing Morpheus-style shades with a fisherman’s beanie and long green parka.

“The time is almost upon us! I told everyone that the night is darkest right before the dawn and we sit at the precipice of the most glorious sunrise in Level Up history! My story has fallen on deaf ears and uninterested minds but my actions speak for themselves. Not only is the Power Championship within touching distance but the Final Boss Championship has breached the horizon. Life is sweet.”

The wind suddenly swept up, trying to tear Joey’s coat from his body. It was open and he was bare-chested beneath it. His crazed hysteria continued as he looked up to the clouds to greet the rain that was beginning to dispel.

“I hate sounding like a broken record but I’ve still not got sick of this song yet. I beat Bert McAlroy, one-on-one, when he was the TriForce Champion! You’re looking at the man who should be in the main event to face Magdalena Lockheart! I’m “The Man who beat the Man who beat the Power Champion!” If there’s ever an indication of being a big fish in a small pond, you’re fucking looking at him. And I’m still hungry. At Final Fantasy, I’m in a fight for my life, a real all-out brawl... and I’m salivating. Because The Developer is a reasonable person! They had my cries and have justly, bestowed me with this opportunity to qualify as the final entrance in the Last of Us match. And you want to talk about a vote of confidence? They’ve only filled the match with a pile of shit who could be swept up, tapped out and KO’d in five minutes flat. Let me introduce you to our obstacles.”

Joey shook his hands past his jacket cuff with a flourish and turned towards the camera again. The rain had picked up substantially and it seemed to fuel Crash’s frenetic demeanour.

“Numero uno, we have Lord Raab! The Masked German Monster. Now listen here, tough guy. I’m not scared of old me in masks. Rammstein are one of my favourite bands. For as big and strong as you are on the attack, your bones are made of dust. I thought I was over the hill when I came back to Level Up, but you? You are the hill. You’re old enough to remember when the hill was just a slope. When you see Father Time, tell him I said hello. Now, I’m a nice guy. I respect my elders to the level of admiration they deserve. So if you want me to push you to the ring in your chair at Final Fantasy, all you need to do is ask. But if it comes down to you and me, Grandad? I’m going to sign a waiver so I’m not responsible for scaring you to death before a punch has even been thrown.”

Crash inhaled deeply through his nose, relishing the sound of his own voice and the erratic routine of the lighthouse illuminations behind him. With a dramatic inhale, Crash launched into another diatribe.

“And whose behind door number two? It’s Emily Simms? Sorry, you’ve never heard of her? Well, she’s the new kid on the block! Don’t worry little Em, we were all new at some point. The difference between you and me is, I never had to ride on anyone’s coat tails to get my first win. You were only on the winning side in your big fancy debut match because you were hanging off one of the biggest frauds in Level Up, the current Power Champion, Duncan Shepard. Now that’s one hell of an assist wouldn’t you say? Having friends in high places sure as it’s uses. But what else can I say about our new friend Simmsy except for her questionable taste in buddies? Well, not much else. You’re about as disappointing as a pub with no beer and, only half as exciting as plain crackers with no cheese and about as mysterious as a tin of beans. The problem here, Emily, is you don’t deserve to be in the same ring as me, much less on the biggest show of the year — and definitely not competing for that final spot on the Last of Us match. You can compare our resumes and play spot the difference - except mine is filled with achievements and yours resembles a halfhearted attempt at a crossword puzzle.”

Crash begins to twirl in the rain, before stopping mid spin to add one last quip on the matter.

“And while I’m at it, where does an entitled California chick get the audacity to name one of her finishers, ‘London Bridge’? If I felt like being petty I’d deliberately beat you with a schoolboy and call it the ‘California Roll’.”

Crash wipes the rainwater off his face with both hands and takes another deep breath, turning back towards the lighthouse. He takes a couple of deep breaths, as if to cleanse himself of the topic of conversation that was Emily Simms. He turns back towards the camera.

“And now we come to our last and certainly not least - in terms of age anyway - the one and only Kat Jones. You’ve got two wins under your belt here in Level Up, one of which was over Cara Strader! The only person to have pinned me clean since I debuted - but I digress. You’ve done well to swim in the shallow waters the deep waters but you’re in the deep end with the fucking sharks shark now. To your credit in spite of this, you might be the biggest obstacle standing in my way right now. So let me be very clear. There’s not a single person I wouldn’t cut in half to get to where I need to be and you are top of that list. That’s not a good place to be. For all your your effort and victories to get to where you are, your dreams are destined to die so that mine can become a reality. I’m feeling generous so Ill offer you this out. Stand on the sidelines with the new girl, that way nobody has to get hurt. I’ll turn that mummified Raab into dust and you can live to fight another day. You can batter Simms as much as you want, I don’t think anyone will really care.”

The torrential downpour forces Crash to open up an umbrella, also blocking out the light from the tower in the background.

“I told you all already, and I’m almost sick of saying it. But 2022 is going to be the year of Joey Crash! The final spot in the Last of Us match is the latest on my laundry list of accomplishments that I’m going to tick off next year. Nobody is safe. Not Raab, Simms or Jones, not the Power Champion. Not even the Final Boss Champion. Count your blessings folks, they’re about to run out fast.”