Post by Duane on May 3, 2022 18:35:19 GMT -5
Residence of Amelia Warder
Abingdon, Maryland
April 17, 2022, 5:06 p.m.
I was sitting at home, minding my own business and listening to Melody play in her room when I first saw the cracks in the stoic veneer of Will Prydor show up. Here was a man who had watched two-thirds of his immediate family deal with various cancers, had come within literal moments of death inside a wrestling ring, had stared down the barrel of a gun on multiple occasions, looking to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
At least if Twitter was to be believed.
“Jack Sullivan,” I mused quietly as I read the tweet he’d quoted. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Because that’s the name of the guy who ran New Legends of Wrestling when Will was there,” my husband responded as he looked up from his tablet. “Why do you ask, hon?”
“Because apparently Nocturne has a match against a young, female Jack Sullivan at DOOM, and Will’s having a breakdown on Twitter over it.”
Terry paused for a moment, thinking. “I wasn’t really on speaking terms with him during his NLW tenure. I kind of took the side of his now ex-wife when they had their disagreements. But if he’s freaking out about someone with the same name, but younger and opposite gender…I’d call him, hon. He may need someone to talk to.”
“I’ll go one better. I’m heading over there to talk to him in person. This may be a bit too much for a phone conversation.”
“I’ll go round up Melody then.”
“How come?”
“Because I’m coming with you. Plus, you really think Melody will forgive you if you go over there and she doesn’t get to come with you to see Elyssa? Melody may be much older but she looks at Elyssa like a little sister.”
I paused. Damned if he didn’t have a point. “All right. Make it quick, I’m going to check with Tori to make sure everyone’s there first before I get everything together.”
Little did I know at the time that this would be the first step on the road of good intentions that could eventually turn into a highway to hell.
~~ ** ~~ ** ~~ ** ~~
The End of Nowhere
Bel Air, Maryland
April 17, 2022, 6:14 p.m.
“He’s in the den,”Tori said as soon as she opened the door to see the three of us standing outside. “Elyssa’s coloring in her room, Melody, and knows you’re coming. Said something about a tea party once you got here?”
“Miss Amelia, may I—”
“Go ahead. You know to behave while you’re here.”
“Thank you!” In a flash, Melody squirmed past Tori and took off towards the back part of the house, where Elyssa’s bedroom was. The sound of two little girls squealing in glee could be heard moments later.
I turned to Terry, a short sigh leaving my lips. “Let’s go, hon. We’re not getting any answers standing out here.” I saw a pained smile cross Tori’s face as she shifted Will II onto her other arm while leading Terry and I into the den.
The den was Will’s personal sanctum. Others might have a man cave, complete with a bar, neon signs, pool tables and video game consoles connected to a large television. Will’s was a combination office, research center, personal career museum, and one game system hooked to a television (in this case, his PS5). He’d come here when he needed to research future opponents, or look over applications for new students to join The Aerie, or even the rare moments to reminisce on his two decades in the sport. To see him sitting in the recliner in the corner, a thousand-yard stare on his face as it got dark in the den, was not only unusual but a trifle disturbing to me. I’d never seen him in this state and that included his time in Carnage being fucked over by Jason Bridges and associates. Tori flicked on the light next to the door, the ceiling light illuminating the room and casting away the physical gloom. It did nothing for the mental part, though, as Will didn’t even flinch.
I looked at Tori, the worry clear on my face. She just nodded, sadly. “It’s not my story to tell, Amelia. I didn’t live it. He did.”
Well, that didn’t make me feel any better. Forcing myself to not shake my head at that thought, I walked over to the far side of the room, and sat down in one of the chairs close to Will. Terry came to stand behind me and Tori took the other chair, still alert for any other noises from the rear of the house where the girls were playing. “Will?”
For a long moment, there was no reply—it didn’t even look like Will was breathing—before the big man took a shuddering breath and turned his head to look at her. “Ames. I was hoping to not have you catch me looking like this.”
“What, I was supposed to treat that tweet like a phone call or Zoom chat would have done this justice? No. I’ve known you for years, you’ve been my boss twice now, and I’ve never seen you this off-balanced. Talk to me, Will.”
“You remember March of 2009, yes?”
“I never saw it personally because of my days in the Denver foster system, but yeah. Campus Chaos.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Terry flinch. He’d seen the event live.
“That was the last time I saw Jackie Sullivan. She was five. I know she and her dad Jack, the guy who ran NLW when I was competing there, were backstage to watch the match against Jesse Williams. I remember waving to Jackie a few moments before I went out onto the stage, the OWF PDA and NLW Anarchy X titles slung over opposite shoulders, and her replying in her young girl voice, ‘Go get him, Phoenix!’ I also remember the scowl Jack had on his face as she said it.”
His eyes appeared to be looking at something the rest of us couldn’t see as he continued. “Every one of us in this room, excepting my son, knows what happened in that match. I won’t relive that particular horror tonight. It’s what happened after. I don’t remember much, and a lot of what I know is third- and fourth-hand. Paramedics got me strapped down as fast as they could to get me out of the arena—the first time I had ever been stretchered out of an event that wasn’t a work. My brain seems to remember Jackie screaming my name, but no one’s ever said they heard the same so I chalk that up to pain hallucinations. I was also told that Jack Sullivan the elder wanted to congratulate Jesse when he got backstage, though some say he wanted to tear Jesse’s head off. Given that Jesse was later in NLW when I returned, I tend to believe the former is accurate.
“It had to be a hell of a sight for a five-year-old to see. When NLW reopened both times—both for my return from the broken neck and then its final run where I was the play-by-play guy—Jackie never made another appearance with Sullivan around that I knew.”
He paused, gathering his thoughts. “It’s been thirteen years since that night. I thought Campus Chaos would have been the catalyst for her never joining this sport. I can only assume that in those thirteen years that she’s taken after her father, and that’s what I want to warn you about, Ames, for whomever dons the Nocturne mask for that match.”
I didn’t say anything, but in the back of my head an idea began to take shape. The second step on that highway to hell.
“I’m basing all of this from Jack the elder. He didn’t give a rat’s…you-know-what…about others unless they were his hand-picked favorites. Folks like Josh Allen, like Jesse Williams, Kevin Heat, and later on JC and Trent Steel. They got chance after chance, protected beyond belief—remind me sometime to tell you about the disaster that was the Gold Rush tournament—and pushed ahead of some who had been busting their chops for years and deserved a top run. The only reason, and I emphasize only reason, I ever got to hold the NLW Championship for the three minutes I did is that Sullivan had a crony tell me that I was to make sure I won the match no matter what, even if I had to go into business on my own, and then found out later he had the ref in on the deal because Jesse was making excessive contract demands. So give the fans what they’d been wanting for years, and take it away in just minutes when JC actually knocked me out with his big boot. That wasn’t a work, he shoot-kicked me into unconsciousness.
“Again, his hand-picked favorites, discarding the old for the new.”
As he trailed into silence, I took the chance to speak up. “And that means what when the younger Jack is concerned?”
“It means, if her father taught her to be anything at all like he was, that whomever is under the mask needs to be very careful approaching this match. Sullivan was a brute who took no prisoners in his active days. I doubt the apple fell far from that tree physically. She’s also probably got his mental state, of ‘do whatever benefits me first before even thinking of others.’ I wouldn’t be surprised if this is Desmond Knight, part two. Given the ones I know, Ames, you may want Elyssa or Lisa under the hood for DOOM. You’ll want an experienced hand at the ready in case Jackie is like her father and Nocturne needs to take control for her own well-being.”
I paused, debating if I wanted to seriously ask this next question or not. Finally, I figured it needed to be asked. “It’s no secret that Nocturne, no matter which one of us, is a student of yours. If Jack—the younger—were to ask whomever is under the mask if she can get in touch with you, what do we tell her?” With my head turned to face Will, I didn’t see Terry’s eyebrows raise at the word “us” in my question.
There was a lengthy pause, the conflict showing on Will’s face. Finally, he looked up at me. “The teacher in me says to let her contact me. The cynic in me who’s expecting a female version of Sullivan the elder says no. My gut says yes, and I’ve rarely gone wrong listening to that. But only if she asks. Don’t offer it to her without being asked first.”
I knew that was an order I was going to ignore if I read the situation the right way, though he didn’t know it yet. “Anything else you can tell me?”
“I don’t know how much of her father’s style she’ll have. So I can’t tell you what to expect in terms of in-ring capability. Just be ready for anything.”
I nodded, and reached out to pat his knee. “Don’t worry, Will. I’ll make sure Nocturne gets through this. We’re not going to let the specter of the Jack Sullivan you know linger into our present day.”
I could tell from the look on his face that he wasn’t convinced. To be fair, I wasn’t entirely convinced myself. The only thing I knew is that Terry was going to have my head for what I had in mind.
~~ ** ~~ ** ~~ ** ~~
Terry didn’t let us get onto route 543, barely a mile away from Will’s place, before he started up. “I heard what you said, Amelia. ‘Us?’ You’re thinking of taking this one, aren’t you?”
In the rear-view mirror, I saw Melody’s head perk up. “Hon, can we table this discussion until we get home?”
“No, I think it needs to be done now, with all three of us. After all, what you have in mind may have disastrous effects on our ability to keep Melody with us. I think she deserves a say in this.”
I bit back a sigh. I didn’t disagree with him, but I thought being in a car was not the best place for this conversation. He apparently thought otherwise. Terry took my silence for assent as he continued. “You know full well that Denver’s caseworker is looking for any reason she can to take Melody back. She made it clear that she didn’t think someone in pro wrestling would make a suitable foster mother, even if…” He trailed off here. While Melody was in the room to hear the judge in Denver state that I was her biological mother, neither Terry nor I had done much to hammer that point home, letting Melody come to it on her own terms. But I knew what he left unsaid. “Do we really want to give her that ammunition against us?”
“It’s been four months. Everything has come back so far without a hitch. I don’t see this being a hiccup.”
“You say that now, but I’m telling you, that Erika Hutchinson has it out for you.”
“Miss Amelia?”
“Yes, Melody?”
There was a brief silence, as Melody screwed up her courage to ask what she had on her mind. Both Amelia and Terry knew to give her the chance to compose herself first. “I…I want to see you do this. I remember the stories Miss Lyssa told me. I want to see for myself, just once, what you used to do in person.”
Thank the Fates she couldn’t see my face, because a frown had come across it at those words. Will’s story was still too fresh in my mind. “Even if they try to say I’m being a bad influence on you by doing this?”
“You’ve already told me that it’s not actual fighting, that it’s like the movies and people get hurt there too. Plus there’s Miss Lyssa and Mister Will to tell me about it, too. I know it’s not something I should do, not until I’m older if I really want to. I just want to see why you did it and still teach others to do it instead of watching it on the TV.”
I kept my silence, giving Melody’s words a chance to register. To my right, it was Terry who spoke next. “And if that lady from Denver tries to take you from us, Melody? Then what?”
“Then we tell the truth. Ain’t that what you tell me?”
“’Isn’t,’ Melody. ‘Isn’t that what.’” My reply was automatic and admittedly half-hearted. Oh, if only to be a child again and see everything in such clear black-and-white shades.
“Oh, God. I know that look on your face, Amelia. You’re still going to do it, aren’t you?”
“It’s in Baltimore, at UMBC. I don’t even have to travel anywhere for that, and the one I’d ask based on geography would be Elyssa who has a show in Maine that night. It makes the most sense to me.”
“So why not Lisa then? Isn’t she your emergency backup?”
“Already committed to talking to someone out west for me. We need two people yet, one in the Plains and one in the Rockies. She’s looking up some of Will’s other students in California who aren’t Amanda and seeing if they’re willing to try their hand elsewhere outside the crowded California and Washington scenes.”
I could hear the unhappiness in Terry’s voice when he shot back “Fine. I’ll sign off on it, Amelia, but I do not like it at all” but I knew I was right. I was clearly the best option available, just in logistics alone. You factor in Will’s past colliding with the present, and well…
I just knew Terry wouldn’t be the only one who didn’t like this decision.
~~ ** ~~ ** ~~ ** ~~
Residence of Amelia Warder
Abingdon, Maryland
April 26, 2022, 2:11 p.m.
”Wait just a damn minute,” Angelina chimed in. ”You give me all of this talk last week that you can’t do it because of Melody, and now you’re saying she asked you to do this and you don’t have a better option? What sort of hypocritical bullshit is this, Amelia?!”
”Okay, I deserve that,” I said as my gaze looked over the screen at the other five women on the call with me, all of whom had at least one other match under the Nocturne mask. “But I’ve laid out my reasons. What you may think personally of my actions aside—”
“All of that aside, it’s still hypocritical! Baltimore is just a day’s drive from Nashville; I could be up there between my show here ending and DOOM starting!”
“I know that, Angelina. Believe me, I’ve thought about it.”
Angelina looked like she had more to say, but muted herself before she could, the anger still clear on her face. On the left side of my screen, Amanda spoke up. “You said your daughter wanted to see you do this. Is the archived footage not enough for her?”
Elyssa answered before I could. “You didn’t see how big her eyes got watching from backstage when she came with Amelia to talk to me about The Last of Us, Amanda. The bug got her and got its claws in deep.”
There was a several-second pause, during which Angelina finally came off of mute, looking a little more composed. “Lisa, you’ve been rather quiet about all of this. What’s your view?”
The oldest of the Nocturne Collective looked pensive as she put her thoughts into words. “You say she knows enough to know this is like the movies. But how often do kids try to re-enact stuff they see in the movies? Wrestling’s no different, look at all the injuries that happen because kids think they can re-enact what they see on the TV. Now, that being said…she’s talked with Elyssa. Will’s been open to talking with her about it. That’s three different people willing to tell her about our world, while making sure she doesn’t try to get into it too early. Even for kids who grow up their entire lives around this business, that’s more than most get. She’s struck me as level-headed from what I’ve heard of her, and what little I’ve seen. I say to give her what she’s asking for, just this once, and never again.”
I saw Amanda, Elyssa, and Stephanie nod. They seemed to be on board. It was just Angelina who seemed to be the lone resistor. “Angelina, I realize this may be an oddball question, but…you want to be the one to show up in case lightning strikes twice and Nocturne’s gifted another win, aren’t you?”
Angelina’s jaw dropped for a couple seconds, then she bowed her head. “Fuck. Yeah, Steph, you pegged me. Nocturne doesn’t get many wins; I was hoping to be there in case I got to stand out from Amanda and get a second win.”
For a few seconds, a stunned silence met this. Then, Amanda laughed. “Girl, you got nothing to be ashamed of. I only won via roll-up. You actually hit a finisher on the giant! That puts you ahead of me right there!”
That broke the tension on the call, as I suspected she was aiming for. After the general laughter died down, Angelina nodded. “All right. I still have my misgivings about this, Amelia, but I’ll sign off on it. That makes all of us.”
I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. “Thanks, ladies. All of you.”
“You’re closer to him than we are, Amelia. What was Will’s thing on Twitter about?”
“Oh that? Just that he wanted to warn me about the daughter of the guy he worked for when he came to prominence in this sport.”
A loud bang came as the camera on Stephanie’s image shook. “Damn it, I knew I recognized that name from somewhere! You should have led with that, Amelia!”
“I thought I had.”
A general chorus of “no” followed this. “This actually makes more sense now,” Lisa continued. “Of course you’d feel compelled to be Will’s stand-in here.”
“Stand in?”
“Yeah. He spent his prime stuck under the glass ceiling put over him by Sullivan. Going to OWF did him no favors because they were the same circle, by and large. It wasn’t until he went back to Baltimore that he finally got the success he was aiming for, success that Jack Sullivan denied him. So now that Sullivan’s daughter is coming into the picture, and conveniently enough in the same place where Will’s presence is greatest, such as it is with we Nocturnes, it makes sense that Will’s protégé dons the mask for one more go, against the daughter of his biggest professional demon.”
“But I thought that would have been J—”
“We do not speak that name here, Amelia.” Lisa chided with a small smile. “Your orders, remember? I said ‘professional demon.’ That man you were about to mention was a personal demon. He almost made Will unable to be a father, almost ruined him for life. And yet Will was good enough to take that man’s daughter under his wing for a spell. No, this is a professional one. Jack Sullivan embodies the ‘I refuse to give you a chance’ mentality Will has fought against for decades. Jack Sullivan is the ghost of Will’s past, now brought to the present in the form of his daughter. So it’s only fair that a younger generation, who was worked with Will very closely, be the one to stare down this demon when Will has made it clear that he’s never wrestling in the spotlight again.”
A low whistle came from Stephanie’s screen. “Lisa does have a way with words when she wants to. I’m more convinced this is the right move now.”
“Hell, so am I now.”
“But are you going to be ready, Amelia? It’s been almost four months!”
“I’m certain I can get Will out of his doldrums to give me a hand.”
Some idle chit-chat followed, and as the call was about to end, Elyssa got the final word in for the rest of the Collective. “Amelia, you’ve been the best of us with the visual imagery on promos. Hell, the YouTube channel is probably the best idea you’ve had for us, it gives us a bigger scope to be creative before a match. That’s something that Will wouldn’t have come up with on his own. You’ve got one last shot at making a statement that all of us can point to and say ‘this is what we’re aspiring to.’ Make us proud, Ames.”
…Well, hell. Now I’ve really got to prove I can be as good once as I ever was. I would say “no pressure,” but let’s be honest. When in my career have I wilted under the pressure before?
This was not going to be the exception that proved the rule.
~~ ** ~~ ** ~~ ** ~~
YouTube transcript
Uploaded to channel “NocturnalSonata”
May 3, 2022, 4:48 p.m.
FADE IN, church interior facing the altar and pulpit, with generic organ music playing in the background. The pews in the church are empty. ENTER Nocturne, stage left, garbed in her black-and-midnight blue attire, complete with mask, who calmly walks up and stands behind the altar as the music fades into silence.
“Brothers and sisters, followers and non-believers of the Nocturne Collective alike, please turn your Bibles to the Book of Ezekiel, Chapter 18, starting at verse 14.”
SLIGHT PAUSE, save for riffling of pages at the altar, before Nocturne stares directly into the camera and speaks with all the bluster of a “hellfire and brimstone” southern Baptist preacher.
“Now, lo, if he beget a son, that seeth all his father's sins which he hath done, and considereth, and doeth not such like,
“That hath not eaten upon the mountains, neither hath lifted up his eyes to the idols of the house of Israel, hath not defiled his neighbour's wife,
“Neither hath oppressed any, hath not withholden the pledge, neither hath spoiled by violence, but hath given his bread to the hungry, and hath covered the naked with a garment,
“That hath taken off his hand from the poor, that hath not received usury nor increase, hath executed my judgments, hath walked in my statutes; he shall not die for the iniquity of his father, he shall surely live.
“As for his father, because he cruelly oppressed, spoiled his brother by violence, and did that which is not good among his people, lo, even he shall die in his iniquity.
“Yet say ye, Why? doth not the son bear the iniquity of the father? When the son hath done that which is lawful and right, and hath kept all my statutes, and hath done them, he shall surely live.
“The soul that sinneth, it shall die. The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father, neither shall the father bear the iniquity of the son: the righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon him.
“But if the wicked will turn from all his sins that he hath committed, and keep all my statutes, and do that which is lawful and right, he shall surely live, he shall not die!”
Nocturne’s voice echoes in the empty room for a few moments before all is silent again. Nocturne steps around the altar and hops down the short rise, standing at the base of the center aisle and continuing to look at the camera.
“I realize that in the days this fictional work was written, women were of no merit, save as breeding stock, but the general thought applies now. Who am I to lay the sins of the father at the feet of the son…or in this case, the daughter? If I did, I would be no better than those who came before me.
”Jack Sullivan. We’ve never met. I’ve never met your father. But I represent, in spirit if not in words and actions, a man you’re familiar with. A man your father has extensive history with. It wounds me to see what two simple words, a first and last name, did to a man I respect for giving me the first true chance at being a professional wrestler. I wish I could hold that against you. It would make my professional life that much easier. But I am a product of my own upbringing, and my own beliefs and values.
“I will not hold the sins of the father against his offspring.”
Nocturne starts to advance towards the camera, which moves back to keep the same space between Nocturne and itself.
“However, I realize that I’m a minority in this business. There will be far too many others who will not hesitate to use your family name, your would-be legacy, against you. It’s a low-hanging fruit after all, and for most people they’ll settle for the one that’s easiest to grab, even if it’s not so fulfilling.”
Nocturne continues to walk, eventually exiting the building and emerging in sunlight at the front entrance of the church. As she crosses the threshold of the church entrance, her black outfit turns white, retaining the midnight blue trim as if shedding the moral darkness that comes from within the very structure she was standing inside moments ago.
“I’m not going to sugar-coat this. I’m certain that growing up you got a better first-hand education of this business than I ever did. So I’m going to spare all of the classic wrestling tropes you’re likely expecting to hear from me. We all know you’ve heard them from numerous people better than I at speaking their minds. So I’m going to give you a piece of heartfelt advice; take or leave it as you will.”
SLOW ZOOM to a close-up of Nocturne’s masked face.
“It’s no secret that we number many. So be ready for absolutely anything. It could be the tenacious Nocturne you saw last EXP. It could be the unassuming Nocturne that stole a win in California. It could be the Nocturne who’s not afraid to stare death down in a game of chicken. Or it could be the one Nocturne who outdanced the devil at his own waltz, and knows just how deep the shadow you’re already standing in runs.
“Whichever of us meets you in Baltimore, know that we don’t collectively stand in the shadow of the man you knew, who trained us or gave us chances we never deserved. He gave us a part of his light, so that we may shine on our own. And no matter which of us stands across the ring from you at DOOM, you’re not facing a second-generation wrestler.
You’ll be facing a first-generation student of arguably the greatest Legacy champion your father’s company ever produced. If you remember anything about New Legends of Wrestling, Jack, you know what kind of a night you’ll be in for.
“I truly hope you’ll end up being a credit to your name.”
Very faintly, almost as if to avoid YouTube copyright detection, Bon Jovi’s “Blaze of Glory" plays for a few seconds before the video FADES TO BLACK.
