Post by Carter Shaw on Sept 12, 2021 2:03:24 GMT -5
9/11/21 PM
Boston, Mass
“We don’t change. We evolve.”
The rooftop caught the high breeze of a beautiful 70 degree day. Stashed away behind the concentration of buildings was Charter Street Park, the kind of park that felt like a mistreated community backyard. Vines outreached from it and climbed up the entirety of the apartment building that Carter Shaw stood on the rooftop of; like an outstretched hand of the past reaching up towards a familiar face.
“I’ve never changed from the 14 year old version of me that would swing fists in this park. The grit. The never-say-die approach to anything life could physically throw at me. That never changed. I used to use my words so sparingly while all those around me would talk all the shit they could think up. I loved the verbal hole a kid would dig himself with the self-hype. I didn’t need to say anything to make myself sound or look tougher. I’d let him do the work. And I could make it all crash down on them. That never changed, it evolved.”
Shaw takes a swig from a water bottle, letting his eyes roam the far horizon of Boston buildings.
“I was a good kid, despite the violence. That never changed, it only evolved. This neighborhood created me. The house 3 blocks away, it created me. The only blank canvas was baby Carter, since then? Every little thing? Every big thing? All brick and mortar.”
He tugs at his “All It Takes” hoodie, pulling the sleeves down to partially cover his hands as the September breeze kicks up a bit, swirling the rooftop. He looks around the surface, a couple rickety benches set up for stargazing or, more likely, smoking pot and throwing things at the street below. He turns his body fully, resting both elbows backwards in a stretch to rest upon the concrete barricade.
“A year ago, Corey Bull taught me just how far of an outreach we have into other people’s lives. That this industry can be a hell-of-a-lot more than weekly cards and in-ring competition. Brick and mortar. He played games, spray painting my property, kidnapping my half-sister, burning my mother’s house to the ground. All because I won All-In and he didn’t. All because I succeeded where he failed.”
A cloud rolls in, covering the sun and lending an even cooler shade to the rooftop.
“Corey Bull did not create what I became. People try to pinpoint this big change in me. And they point their finger right at Philidor. The day I removed the tragedian mask from my face, the day that I stood side by side with Ash Blake, Samson Saltair and Peter Garvey. The day that I showed allegiance to something other than my own two fists. And I’ll be honest, Corey Bull played a large part in that decision. As he played with my life like toys, it became more apparent to me that I needed some backup.”
The sun comes back out, causing Shaw to squint a bit before turning back around to overlook the old park once again. His eyes traced the specific clearing near some trees where many neighborhood fists flew.
“Corey Bull did not change me into what you perceive this modern day Carter Shaw to be. But he did help me evolve. Philidor Holdings L.L.C. did not change me, they helped me evolve. Action Wrestling did not change me, they helped me evolve. And in the journey from Television Champion to All-In to worldbeater World Champion, I’d say thank you but I wouldn’t mean it. Bull loves the self-indulgent vision of being a god among men. He would love to think that he possesses such power over people. He doesn’t even possess that power over himself”
The breeze stops. Distant chirping of birds and human voices create a mere buzz.
“Nobody ever changes. We don’t change, we evolve. As hard as Corey Bull wants to try to be a do-gooder, a hero, the Corey Bull we all have come to know still stands before us. Evil as ever. Wearing a mask of a different sort.
I haven’t changed, I’ve evolved forward.
Corey Bull hasn’t changed, he’s evolved. Backwards. Because there’s nothing worse than pretending you’re something you're not. And the guy who made “NO MORE NICE THINGS” a mantra in my direction a year ago is not going to step up to the plate on Monday and be able to now call himself the angel in the fight. I have no problem with people’s misunderstanding of Philidor leading to me being put in the devil role. But this is devil V devil and the fact that Corey Bull thinks it is any different will be his downfall quicker then he could ever imagine.”
A rustle from below draws Shaw’s attention down to the park below once more, as a group of 3 kids have found their way to the open grass, playing some shoving version of tag. Memories flooded Shaw’s brain even though his facial expression remained stoic. The grounds were the same. They had not changed, but they had certainly evolved.
We always knew that another meeting between Corey Bull and Carter Shaw would look something like this. We always knew the trajectories and we always saw that I had an arrow pointing up while Bull was a little bit more of a flatline. And here we are. YOUR AW World Champion, the man that has already survived battles for this gold that you most certainly didn’t give me the proper chances to. The internet creamed its pants in 6 different directions when names like QDT, Dune, Odin Balfore, Corey Black, Spencer Adams and Ash Blake ALL ended up being put in that Uprising main event. My god, the elation when everyone thought the numbers were finally against Philidor.
Wrong.
The numbers are never against Philidor. The numbers are against themselves. And there was this beautiful moment in that match where I simply looked up, battleworn (and still standing as always), to see that everybody had wiped each other out and I got to just enter the ring, cover a welcoming QDT and...there ya have it. How To Survive 101.
Carter Shaw, reigning AW World Champion
Corey Bull, being tossed a Championship opportunity as if it were a dog treat.
Corey Bull got this chance when his team won the 5 on 5 TOKYO CUP at Tokyo Fite. Clash Vs CruiserClash. The chance that Mr. 6’10 always hoped would come his way so that he could feel big and bad again.
I have to say, one of my most enjoyable experiences of the year had been watching you in the tow of Frank Lowe. Yet another man accomplishing the level of evil you always seek out. Another man who leaves the menace of Corey Bull in a shadow of the evil deeds of others.
Started to truly feel like the Natty Light of the beer selections, didn’t ya. After all that time being the Walter wannabe, Frank Lowe had an actual fucking murder to his credit.
THIS is where we were always gonna end up, Bull. American Made. Me defending my World Championship against you. In an instance where betting odds are finally turning up Shaw. I just never thought it would be this version of you that would stand before me. Calling me out as if I’m the bad guy here.
I broke down Spencer Adams’ attempt at being a hero.
I took away Corey Black’s second chance at being a hero.
Now you? Corey f’n Bull looks to play hero? You tried to ruin my life from top to bottom. That doesn’t get swept under the rug EVER. You don’t get to use buzz words like corporation and sellout to make it appear that you’re above me on some moral ground.
You burned that ability a long time ago. There’s no redemption for everything you’ve done, especially...when it comes to me. There’s only chronic payback.
Corey Bull burned down my mother’s house and I rebuilt it with financing from Philidor Holdings. There is zero moral ground here to explore. This go around, I prove the same thing I proved a year ago, and that is no matter what smoke and mirrors you try so desperately to create, SHAW BEATS BULL in that ring. 10 times out of 10. And unfortunately for you, in this business, that’s the lasting result. Any other mark you left on me? Any other tattoo? Within the confines of Action Wrestling, it doesn’t mean shit until you figure out how to back it up in battle.
And I will always outfight you, Corey Bull, because we don’t change. We evolve. And I’ve been carved from fighting stone since Day One while your entire existence has been about finding ways to make up for the fact that you haven’t had that same innate ability. All the things you’ve ever wanted to be, Bull...maybe in the end it all boils down to one thing.
Corey Bull wants to be Carter Shaw.
Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, right? Well you may not be good guy here that you attempt to be. You may not be on the road to redemption you hope for.
But atleast you’re not insane, right? Because all you’ve done is different things over and over again only to receive the same result. And that’s failing to hit your mark, never leaving the impact you so desire. Your calling card at this point is falling short of your own expectations. You’re not letting anybody else down, Bull. The world’s expectations of you are clearly defined and often met. But especially when I stand tall at the end of American Made, STILL YOUR AW World Champion, you will have once again failed to reach your lofty goal.
You’re not insane, Bull.
What you are is virga.
9/7/21
Mesquite, Nevada
The desert road ahead stretched straight into the horizon. It looks as if the meeting point of the end of the road and the bottom of the sky were a painted wall. Looney Tunes style, waiting for another car to crash right into it.
Carter Shaw drove the Jeep Wrangler, kicking up sand and dust from the road. The back was loaded up with various household items, some table legs sticking upward to block perfect visibility of the nothingness behind it. Mostly boxes and duffel bags made up the travelling load. Shaw’s eyes were locked forward toward that horizon, ignoring the monotonous desert at both sides of him.
The ring of a cell phone breaks the silence within the car, Carter looking down towards the dashboard to see the letters JHdW. With a reach forward, he accepts the call over the bluetooth setup, a buzz filling the car as Carter resumes his stare forward at the road ahead.
“Mr. deWitt, how are ya?” Carter says with a false enthusiasm.
“Shaw, my boy. I’m doing well. Where are you?” The raspy voice of the Philidor Holdings Vice President takes over the speakers. A real voice for radio. Shaw lets a slight laugh slip between his lips.
“Oh, right now I’d say I’m somewhere in the void between Nevada and Utah, sir. Officially out of the house in Las Vegas and starting the drive across country.”
There’s a moment of silence.
“You were serious about that?”
“...What part of ‘I’m selling the house in Vegas and moving back to Boston’ didn’t sound serious?” Shaw answers bluntly.
“I thought I made my opinion clear on that matter, Carter.” The tone changed quickly, almost fatherly.
“I’m not sure I follow, sir.”
“I told you that I thought it was in your best interest right now to have multiple properties, I would have preferred you didn’t sell the house in Nevada.”
“If I’m not gonna live in it, why not get 40,000 OVER asking for it, right? I’m sorry, Mr. deWitt, I heard what you said when I mentioned it, but I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I have no idea where my brother went off to, but the house in Boston is sitting there vacant.”
“Fair enough, Mr. Shaw, you know you’re completely free to make your own decisi--wait, you’re moving into the house in Boston that we rebuilt for you?” The VP’s tone changes once more, as if the principal had become a classmate. Excitement radiated through the realization.
“...yes. Why, is that a problem?”
“No, not at all! Excellent, Mr. Shaw! That’s quite alright, I’m glad that house won’t be empty then. It’ll be good for you to get back to your roots, to be back in your city again.”
Shaw gave a quiet slow nod as he was quite confused by the array of emotion coming at him through the bluetooth. He shrugged it off, however, as white dash line after dash line flew past him. He looked off to the left, over the desert, where a storm system had appeared rather quickly off the road a cluster of several dark clouds.
“Was there a reason you called, Mr. deWitt?”
“Huh? Oh, no, no. I had something I was gonna ask you to do for me but I would’ve needed you in New York City today. What you’re doing is much more pressing, no worries on this end. How long of a drive awaits you?”
“Oh a good 40 hours, sir. Won’t let it take more than three days.”
“I need you safe, Mr. Shaw, don’t push it behind the wheel. Take as many rest stops as you need, any hotel you could possibly find will accept the Philidor credit card you have.”
“I’ll be just fine, sir, as long as this weather doesn’t distract me.”
Still looking off at the clouds, Carter watches as streaks of darkness start coming from the clouds, like a dark, dancing fog. It seems to come from each cloud, a whisping movement of shapeless matter.
“Distract with this crazy dangling rain, for instance. Looks like a curtain getting pulled half-way down on a show.” Shaw said, almost more to himself than the VP still on the phone.
“Virga.”
“Huh?”
“You’ve been living in Las Vegas and you’ve never heard the word virga? That’s virga, Mr. Shaw. Rain that evaporates before it ever hits the ground.”
“How do you know this?”
“I lived out west for a number of years when I was younger. Listen, Carter, get to Boston safe, alright? Give me a call when you’re settled in, we’ve got plenty of more business to attend to and a couple of matters I think you’ll be excited to sink your teeth into.”
“Sound li-” Shaw is cut off by the sound of a click, the abrupt end to a phone call. He slowly reaches forward to kill the bluetooth connection, letting the car return to silence. He grits his teeth a bit at the hangup.
“I just want my damn questions answered…”
Shaw speaks to himself, eyes going back and forth between the road and the virga rain above head. It was quite a sigh. Unproductive, but quite a sight.
Dead Cells tell no tales. You’ll have no tale to tell after this one, Bull. This ain’t the moment that finally gives you a story. I know how badly you want it. How badly you feel you need this one. Could you imagine? An AW where, in a week, Corey Bull holds the AW World Title, having beaten CARTER SHAW to do so? It’d be the first time we get to see a genuine human smile on that bullish face. But the dreamcrusher I get to be on Monday Night is the most justified that I’ve gotten to come across.
Sure, crushing Spencer’s dreams felt good each and every time. But after all that Corey Bull did to me in 2020? To my family? You don’t deserve a goddamn thing other than another fucking time hearing the ref over the ringing in your ear say “Here’s your winner and STILL AW WORLD CHAMPION, CARTER SHAW”.
That’s all you’ve come to deserve. That’s a dream you deserve to have crushed. Over and over again. And this one, in time, just gets to blend in with all of the other Corey Bull failures you’ve mounted throughout your entire existence. It’s your being. And there’s nothing wrong with that, if you accept it and own it.
Atleast you can coin yourself a star-maker, since we all beat you on our way to the top. Just ask Jason Cain and Bam Miller, who are riding high on the fact that beating Corey Bull is an accomplishment. So much for momentum coming into this one, huh Bull? You tried so hard to drag me down a year ago. To kill any momentum that Mr. All-In had, and you ended up playing your role in propelling me to join Philidor. To make a new life for myself, continue to take AW by storm and beat legend after legend, win the World Championship and come all the way back around to give you a shot at it...
The Star-Maker Corey Bull. I’ll let you have a piece of that pie. I’ll throw you that treat just like the powers that be are throwing you this one.
Worst of all for you is where this match gets to take place. My turf; goes for both the AW ring as well as the city around it. I AM Boston. I am this city and this city is me. Tough. Everything here is earned with work ethic and determination. This is not a city of handouts, this is a city of earned dollars. Exactly what I do each and every day for both Philidor Holdings and Action Wrestling. And you’re a city built on lies and mud. Nothing was given to me here, Bull. I earned Philidor’s attention with my ability. I earned my sponsorship by being successful in that ring. The same way I earned the All-In briefcase by being the last man standing at the top of a ladder. You remember that sight, don’t you? Looking up as yet another opportunity escaped your grasp?
I remember that look in your eyes. I also remember the look in your eyes when you then slammed the newly crowned Mr. All-In through the ladders outside the ring. I remember the lash out when, once again, Corey Bull was left with idle hands. It’s the same look we’ve seen time and time again, only heightened now that we get to look at your naked bastard face every week.
Using those idle hands to hold the hands of Shooter and Noose, however, does not make you a new kind of threat. These two guys weren’t even threatening when they flanked Frank Lowe, a true bastard.
You fucked with me in every imaginable way a year ago, and what...you thought the receipt for that was a simple pinfall victory? Case closed? See you down the road? Your receipt comes now. I’ve never been a man to rush things, because I, as well as anybody, know how important it can be to take your time. Be patient. Something we’ll see if Kyle Kemp can do in such a noble manner.
Your receipt comes in the embarrassment that will follow after Corey Bull, an ACTION ORIGINAL, falters at the alter and proves to the entire world around him that they were all still right. Corey Bull really still can’t beat Carter Shaw. It’s a darkness you are so deserving to be put back into.
The far corner with a collection of Torture’s failed experiments and Gravedigger’s impulsively-fired former employees.
This
Title
Is
Mine
And this company will NEVER be represented by you. Even if you were to tow the company line for months and attempt to make amends with atleast some of the people you’ve crossed, you will never ever be perceived as what you are currently trying to build yourself to be.
Corey Bull
Is
Corey Bull.
A tiger doesn’t change its stripes
And the garbage can’t take itself out.
You don’t get to change your essential nature. Your character. I’m not American Made, I’m Boston Made. You’re Northwoods made. Call me out all you want for being a corporate puppet, shape another success of mine however you see fit. But don’t drown in your own hypocrisy, as you are literally the devil that crawled up from hell, now putting on a suit jacket and trying to shake a hand.
Looks like we’re both phonies. Another game we can play together.
You tattooed my life with “No MoRe NIcE ThInGs” a year ago. And all I’ve earned since that fucking day? Are nice things. You aren’t taking away my AW Championship. You aren’t taking away my murder streak of AW Originals. You aren’t taking away my Philidor sponsorship. This Monday night? All you’re taking away is your own dignity.
9/10/21
Carter slung the first couple big bags over his shoulders and approached the house, eyes up towards the beautiful framework. He hadn’t heard from his brother in months. The immaturity he had expected would pass had not, as Chris’s disapproval of Philidor had become larger than words. Carter missed him in moments, but otherwise was glad not to have obstacles in his current pursuits.
A quick memory flashed before his eyes of seeing the house that once stood on this property up in flames at the hands of Corey Bull. He shook it off quickly, he had become pretty good at that. Walking up to the front door, he dipped the weighted right shoulder towards his pocket, able to fish out his keys. As he did so, he froze. His eyes met an envelope taped to the bottom of the door.
“Shaw” was written in all capitals across the front of the envelope. Shaw raised an eyebrow, having first thought it may be a letter from his brother, but he didn't recognize the handwriting. Carter let the bags drop from his shoulders onto the small concrete steps, quickly opening the envelope and pulling out a folded piece of paper.
Shaw’s eyebrow could not raise any further. He looked side to side slowly before moving along to get his stuff inside. He wasn’t sure whether or not to believe the words written to him. But now he for damn sure recognized the handwriting.
Boston, Mass
“We don’t change. We evolve.”
The rooftop caught the high breeze of a beautiful 70 degree day. Stashed away behind the concentration of buildings was Charter Street Park, the kind of park that felt like a mistreated community backyard. Vines outreached from it and climbed up the entirety of the apartment building that Carter Shaw stood on the rooftop of; like an outstretched hand of the past reaching up towards a familiar face.
“I’ve never changed from the 14 year old version of me that would swing fists in this park. The grit. The never-say-die approach to anything life could physically throw at me. That never changed. I used to use my words so sparingly while all those around me would talk all the shit they could think up. I loved the verbal hole a kid would dig himself with the self-hype. I didn’t need to say anything to make myself sound or look tougher. I’d let him do the work. And I could make it all crash down on them. That never changed, it evolved.”
Shaw takes a swig from a water bottle, letting his eyes roam the far horizon of Boston buildings.
“I was a good kid, despite the violence. That never changed, it only evolved. This neighborhood created me. The house 3 blocks away, it created me. The only blank canvas was baby Carter, since then? Every little thing? Every big thing? All brick and mortar.”
He tugs at his “All It Takes” hoodie, pulling the sleeves down to partially cover his hands as the September breeze kicks up a bit, swirling the rooftop. He looks around the surface, a couple rickety benches set up for stargazing or, more likely, smoking pot and throwing things at the street below. He turns his body fully, resting both elbows backwards in a stretch to rest upon the concrete barricade.
“A year ago, Corey Bull taught me just how far of an outreach we have into other people’s lives. That this industry can be a hell-of-a-lot more than weekly cards and in-ring competition. Brick and mortar. He played games, spray painting my property, kidnapping my half-sister, burning my mother’s house to the ground. All because I won All-In and he didn’t. All because I succeeded where he failed.”
A cloud rolls in, covering the sun and lending an even cooler shade to the rooftop.
“Corey Bull did not create what I became. People try to pinpoint this big change in me. And they point their finger right at Philidor. The day I removed the tragedian mask from my face, the day that I stood side by side with Ash Blake, Samson Saltair and Peter Garvey. The day that I showed allegiance to something other than my own two fists. And I’ll be honest, Corey Bull played a large part in that decision. As he played with my life like toys, it became more apparent to me that I needed some backup.”
The sun comes back out, causing Shaw to squint a bit before turning back around to overlook the old park once again. His eyes traced the specific clearing near some trees where many neighborhood fists flew.
“Corey Bull did not change me into what you perceive this modern day Carter Shaw to be. But he did help me evolve. Philidor Holdings L.L.C. did not change me, they helped me evolve. Action Wrestling did not change me, they helped me evolve. And in the journey from Television Champion to All-In to worldbeater World Champion, I’d say thank you but I wouldn’t mean it. Bull loves the self-indulgent vision of being a god among men. He would love to think that he possesses such power over people. He doesn’t even possess that power over himself”
The breeze stops. Distant chirping of birds and human voices create a mere buzz.
“Nobody ever changes. We don’t change, we evolve. As hard as Corey Bull wants to try to be a do-gooder, a hero, the Corey Bull we all have come to know still stands before us. Evil as ever. Wearing a mask of a different sort.
I haven’t changed, I’ve evolved forward.
Corey Bull hasn’t changed, he’s evolved. Backwards. Because there’s nothing worse than pretending you’re something you're not. And the guy who made “NO MORE NICE THINGS” a mantra in my direction a year ago is not going to step up to the plate on Monday and be able to now call himself the angel in the fight. I have no problem with people’s misunderstanding of Philidor leading to me being put in the devil role. But this is devil V devil and the fact that Corey Bull thinks it is any different will be his downfall quicker then he could ever imagine.”
A rustle from below draws Shaw’s attention down to the park below once more, as a group of 3 kids have found their way to the open grass, playing some shoving version of tag. Memories flooded Shaw’s brain even though his facial expression remained stoic. The grounds were the same. They had not changed, but they had certainly evolved.
We always knew that another meeting between Corey Bull and Carter Shaw would look something like this. We always knew the trajectories and we always saw that I had an arrow pointing up while Bull was a little bit more of a flatline. And here we are. YOUR AW World Champion, the man that has already survived battles for this gold that you most certainly didn’t give me the proper chances to. The internet creamed its pants in 6 different directions when names like QDT, Dune, Odin Balfore, Corey Black, Spencer Adams and Ash Blake ALL ended up being put in that Uprising main event. My god, the elation when everyone thought the numbers were finally against Philidor.
Wrong.
The numbers are never against Philidor. The numbers are against themselves. And there was this beautiful moment in that match where I simply looked up, battleworn (and still standing as always), to see that everybody had wiped each other out and I got to just enter the ring, cover a welcoming QDT and...there ya have it. How To Survive 101.
Carter Shaw, reigning AW World Champion
Corey Bull, being tossed a Championship opportunity as if it were a dog treat.
Corey Bull got this chance when his team won the 5 on 5 TOKYO CUP at Tokyo Fite. Clash Vs CruiserClash. The chance that Mr. 6’10 always hoped would come his way so that he could feel big and bad again.
I have to say, one of my most enjoyable experiences of the year had been watching you in the tow of Frank Lowe. Yet another man accomplishing the level of evil you always seek out. Another man who leaves the menace of Corey Bull in a shadow of the evil deeds of others.
Started to truly feel like the Natty Light of the beer selections, didn’t ya. After all that time being the Walter wannabe, Frank Lowe had an actual fucking murder to his credit.
THIS is where we were always gonna end up, Bull. American Made. Me defending my World Championship against you. In an instance where betting odds are finally turning up Shaw. I just never thought it would be this version of you that would stand before me. Calling me out as if I’m the bad guy here.
I broke down Spencer Adams’ attempt at being a hero.
I took away Corey Black’s second chance at being a hero.
Now you? Corey f’n Bull looks to play hero? You tried to ruin my life from top to bottom. That doesn’t get swept under the rug EVER. You don’t get to use buzz words like corporation and sellout to make it appear that you’re above me on some moral ground.
You burned that ability a long time ago. There’s no redemption for everything you’ve done, especially...when it comes to me. There’s only chronic payback.
Corey Bull burned down my mother’s house and I rebuilt it with financing from Philidor Holdings. There is zero moral ground here to explore. This go around, I prove the same thing I proved a year ago, and that is no matter what smoke and mirrors you try so desperately to create, SHAW BEATS BULL in that ring. 10 times out of 10. And unfortunately for you, in this business, that’s the lasting result. Any other mark you left on me? Any other tattoo? Within the confines of Action Wrestling, it doesn’t mean shit until you figure out how to back it up in battle.
And I will always outfight you, Corey Bull, because we don’t change. We evolve. And I’ve been carved from fighting stone since Day One while your entire existence has been about finding ways to make up for the fact that you haven’t had that same innate ability. All the things you’ve ever wanted to be, Bull...maybe in the end it all boils down to one thing.
Corey Bull wants to be Carter Shaw.
Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, right? Well you may not be good guy here that you attempt to be. You may not be on the road to redemption you hope for.
But atleast you’re not insane, right? Because all you’ve done is different things over and over again only to receive the same result. And that’s failing to hit your mark, never leaving the impact you so desire. Your calling card at this point is falling short of your own expectations. You’re not letting anybody else down, Bull. The world’s expectations of you are clearly defined and often met. But especially when I stand tall at the end of American Made, STILL YOUR AW World Champion, you will have once again failed to reach your lofty goal.
You’re not insane, Bull.
What you are is virga.
9/7/21
Mesquite, Nevada
The desert road ahead stretched straight into the horizon. It looks as if the meeting point of the end of the road and the bottom of the sky were a painted wall. Looney Tunes style, waiting for another car to crash right into it.
Carter Shaw drove the Jeep Wrangler, kicking up sand and dust from the road. The back was loaded up with various household items, some table legs sticking upward to block perfect visibility of the nothingness behind it. Mostly boxes and duffel bags made up the travelling load. Shaw’s eyes were locked forward toward that horizon, ignoring the monotonous desert at both sides of him.
The ring of a cell phone breaks the silence within the car, Carter looking down towards the dashboard to see the letters JHdW. With a reach forward, he accepts the call over the bluetooth setup, a buzz filling the car as Carter resumes his stare forward at the road ahead.
“Mr. deWitt, how are ya?” Carter says with a false enthusiasm.
“Shaw, my boy. I’m doing well. Where are you?” The raspy voice of the Philidor Holdings Vice President takes over the speakers. A real voice for radio. Shaw lets a slight laugh slip between his lips.
“Oh, right now I’d say I’m somewhere in the void between Nevada and Utah, sir. Officially out of the house in Las Vegas and starting the drive across country.”
There’s a moment of silence.
“You were serious about that?”
“...What part of ‘I’m selling the house in Vegas and moving back to Boston’ didn’t sound serious?” Shaw answers bluntly.
“I thought I made my opinion clear on that matter, Carter.” The tone changed quickly, almost fatherly.
“I’m not sure I follow, sir.”
“I told you that I thought it was in your best interest right now to have multiple properties, I would have preferred you didn’t sell the house in Nevada.”
“If I’m not gonna live in it, why not get 40,000 OVER asking for it, right? I’m sorry, Mr. deWitt, I heard what you said when I mentioned it, but I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I have no idea where my brother went off to, but the house in Boston is sitting there vacant.”
“Fair enough, Mr. Shaw, you know you’re completely free to make your own decisi--wait, you’re moving into the house in Boston that we rebuilt for you?” The VP’s tone changes once more, as if the principal had become a classmate. Excitement radiated through the realization.
“...yes. Why, is that a problem?”
“No, not at all! Excellent, Mr. Shaw! That’s quite alright, I’m glad that house won’t be empty then. It’ll be good for you to get back to your roots, to be back in your city again.”
Shaw gave a quiet slow nod as he was quite confused by the array of emotion coming at him through the bluetooth. He shrugged it off, however, as white dash line after dash line flew past him. He looked off to the left, over the desert, where a storm system had appeared rather quickly off the road a cluster of several dark clouds.
“Was there a reason you called, Mr. deWitt?”
“Huh? Oh, no, no. I had something I was gonna ask you to do for me but I would’ve needed you in New York City today. What you’re doing is much more pressing, no worries on this end. How long of a drive awaits you?”
“Oh a good 40 hours, sir. Won’t let it take more than three days.”
“I need you safe, Mr. Shaw, don’t push it behind the wheel. Take as many rest stops as you need, any hotel you could possibly find will accept the Philidor credit card you have.”
“I’ll be just fine, sir, as long as this weather doesn’t distract me.”
Still looking off at the clouds, Carter watches as streaks of darkness start coming from the clouds, like a dark, dancing fog. It seems to come from each cloud, a whisping movement of shapeless matter.
“Distract with this crazy dangling rain, for instance. Looks like a curtain getting pulled half-way down on a show.” Shaw said, almost more to himself than the VP still on the phone.
“Virga.”
“Huh?”
“You’ve been living in Las Vegas and you’ve never heard the word virga? That’s virga, Mr. Shaw. Rain that evaporates before it ever hits the ground.”
“How do you know this?”
“I lived out west for a number of years when I was younger. Listen, Carter, get to Boston safe, alright? Give me a call when you’re settled in, we’ve got plenty of more business to attend to and a couple of matters I think you’ll be excited to sink your teeth into.”
“Sound li-” Shaw is cut off by the sound of a click, the abrupt end to a phone call. He slowly reaches forward to kill the bluetooth connection, letting the car return to silence. He grits his teeth a bit at the hangup.
“I just want my damn questions answered…”
Shaw speaks to himself, eyes going back and forth between the road and the virga rain above head. It was quite a sigh. Unproductive, but quite a sight.
Dead Cells tell no tales. You’ll have no tale to tell after this one, Bull. This ain’t the moment that finally gives you a story. I know how badly you want it. How badly you feel you need this one. Could you imagine? An AW where, in a week, Corey Bull holds the AW World Title, having beaten CARTER SHAW to do so? It’d be the first time we get to see a genuine human smile on that bullish face. But the dreamcrusher I get to be on Monday Night is the most justified that I’ve gotten to come across.
Sure, crushing Spencer’s dreams felt good each and every time. But after all that Corey Bull did to me in 2020? To my family? You don’t deserve a goddamn thing other than another fucking time hearing the ref over the ringing in your ear say “Here’s your winner and STILL AW WORLD CHAMPION, CARTER SHAW”.
That’s all you’ve come to deserve. That’s a dream you deserve to have crushed. Over and over again. And this one, in time, just gets to blend in with all of the other Corey Bull failures you’ve mounted throughout your entire existence. It’s your being. And there’s nothing wrong with that, if you accept it and own it.
Atleast you can coin yourself a star-maker, since we all beat you on our way to the top. Just ask Jason Cain and Bam Miller, who are riding high on the fact that beating Corey Bull is an accomplishment. So much for momentum coming into this one, huh Bull? You tried so hard to drag me down a year ago. To kill any momentum that Mr. All-In had, and you ended up playing your role in propelling me to join Philidor. To make a new life for myself, continue to take AW by storm and beat legend after legend, win the World Championship and come all the way back around to give you a shot at it...
The Star-Maker Corey Bull. I’ll let you have a piece of that pie. I’ll throw you that treat just like the powers that be are throwing you this one.
Worst of all for you is where this match gets to take place. My turf; goes for both the AW ring as well as the city around it. I AM Boston. I am this city and this city is me. Tough. Everything here is earned with work ethic and determination. This is not a city of handouts, this is a city of earned dollars. Exactly what I do each and every day for both Philidor Holdings and Action Wrestling. And you’re a city built on lies and mud. Nothing was given to me here, Bull. I earned Philidor’s attention with my ability. I earned my sponsorship by being successful in that ring. The same way I earned the All-In briefcase by being the last man standing at the top of a ladder. You remember that sight, don’t you? Looking up as yet another opportunity escaped your grasp?
I remember that look in your eyes. I also remember the look in your eyes when you then slammed the newly crowned Mr. All-In through the ladders outside the ring. I remember the lash out when, once again, Corey Bull was left with idle hands. It’s the same look we’ve seen time and time again, only heightened now that we get to look at your naked bastard face every week.
Using those idle hands to hold the hands of Shooter and Noose, however, does not make you a new kind of threat. These two guys weren’t even threatening when they flanked Frank Lowe, a true bastard.
You fucked with me in every imaginable way a year ago, and what...you thought the receipt for that was a simple pinfall victory? Case closed? See you down the road? Your receipt comes now. I’ve never been a man to rush things, because I, as well as anybody, know how important it can be to take your time. Be patient. Something we’ll see if Kyle Kemp can do in such a noble manner.
Your receipt comes in the embarrassment that will follow after Corey Bull, an ACTION ORIGINAL, falters at the alter and proves to the entire world around him that they were all still right. Corey Bull really still can’t beat Carter Shaw. It’s a darkness you are so deserving to be put back into.
The far corner with a collection of Torture’s failed experiments and Gravedigger’s impulsively-fired former employees.
This
Title
Is
Mine
And this company will NEVER be represented by you. Even if you were to tow the company line for months and attempt to make amends with atleast some of the people you’ve crossed, you will never ever be perceived as what you are currently trying to build yourself to be.
Corey Bull
Is
Corey Bull.
A tiger doesn’t change its stripes
And the garbage can’t take itself out.
You don’t get to change your essential nature. Your character. I’m not American Made, I’m Boston Made. You’re Northwoods made. Call me out all you want for being a corporate puppet, shape another success of mine however you see fit. But don’t drown in your own hypocrisy, as you are literally the devil that crawled up from hell, now putting on a suit jacket and trying to shake a hand.
Looks like we’re both phonies. Another game we can play together.
You tattooed my life with “No MoRe NIcE ThInGs” a year ago. And all I’ve earned since that fucking day? Are nice things. You aren’t taking away my AW Championship. You aren’t taking away my murder streak of AW Originals. You aren’t taking away my Philidor sponsorship. This Monday night? All you’re taking away is your own dignity.
9/10/21
Carter slung the first couple big bags over his shoulders and approached the house, eyes up towards the beautiful framework. He hadn’t heard from his brother in months. The immaturity he had expected would pass had not, as Chris’s disapproval of Philidor had become larger than words. Carter missed him in moments, but otherwise was glad not to have obstacles in his current pursuits.
A quick memory flashed before his eyes of seeing the house that once stood on this property up in flames at the hands of Corey Bull. He shook it off quickly, he had become pretty good at that. Walking up to the front door, he dipped the weighted right shoulder towards his pocket, able to fish out his keys. As he did so, he froze. His eyes met an envelope taped to the bottom of the door.
“Shaw” was written in all capitals across the front of the envelope. Shaw raised an eyebrow, having first thought it may be a letter from his brother, but he didn't recognize the handwriting. Carter let the bags drop from his shoulders onto the small concrete steps, quickly opening the envelope and pulling out a folded piece of paper.
Shaw,
You want answers to your questions, but there are far too many questions to answer. I will give you the one you want above all else, but it must be discreet. DO NOT TELL ANYONE. You will finally know who Samson Saltair is, and we may both burn in a place worse than hell for this. I’ll give you the time and place at a later date. Consider this your house warming gift.
-X
Shaw’s eyebrow could not raise any further. He looked side to side slowly before moving along to get his stuff inside. He wasn’t sure whether or not to believe the words written to him. But now he for damn sure recognized the handwriting.