Post by Carter Shaw on Nov 7, 2021 0:12:55 GMT -5
“No man is free who cannot control himself.” -Pythagoras
“Why didn’t you…”
Carter Shaw begins to ask a question into the phone pressed up to his ear but stops, rubbing at the pressure points of his eyebrows with his free hand for a moment. Clearly distraught, his eyes roam cracks in the pavement at his feet. Seated outside the hotel just an hour after SpookyClash had closed; Alone. Black hoodie pulled over his dress shirt, an indistinguishable man amongst anyone else.
“What made you stop, Lis? You had Bacchus dead to rights with that Crown Of Thorns, why did you stop?” The serious tone of Shaw’s voice carried a heavy burden of concern. There was silence on the other end for moments before the distorted voice could be heard from the top of the cell.
“...What made you walk out?” Lissie Hope’s response carried an identical tone. Shaw’s head dropped a little further, as he reached back and pulled the hood up over the top of his head. He slowly shook side to side. His lips moved, no words were prepared to grace them.
“What did Peter Garvey say to you?” Her voice rang out again, Shaw still silent. “Why did you lie to me?”
“I didn’t --” The instinctive defense jumped out, but once again, Shaw lost the words to appropriately respond. His eyes closed as he tilted his face up towards the sky. It felt as though both sides of the attempt at conversation felt lost.
“This is it, isn’t it?” Lissie asks softly, an audible tear as if such a thing could be carried in a voice.
“No. No. This is not it. This doesn’t just end, it can’t just end. It was a match. I know how much you’ve been going through, and know that I have your back no matter what. There is no wagon that you can’t find a way back onto after falling off, you hear me? And Philidor? Philidor doesn’t just end. It was just a match. We both clearly made decisions that were not good for the brand, more importantly, for Ms. Blakesley herself, but it doesn’t all just die.”
“Why did you walk out, Carter?”
“Because the Usurper needed to be usurped, alright? Because of the choices she’s made along the way. And Mr. Saltair needed to see that every wish and command doesn’t just happen at the snap of his fingers.” Shaw’s words are more of a stream of consciousness rather than thought out, as he halts himself, holding an open palm out to the air as if to really say ‘i don’t know’. His eyes appear a bit wet, no tear falling, but the kind of wet that you get when the humidity level tells you it could rain at any moment.
“I don’t know who the fuck I am without Philidor. This doesn’t end, I’ll fight for what I’ve managed to build over the past year. It’s not over.” His voice trails a bit, no interrupting thought coming from the other end. Plenty of silence is shared between the two.
“Where are you?” Shaw asks gently.
“It doesn’t matter where I am. It doesn’t matter where you are either, Carter. All that matters is where we’re going. Where the fuck are we going?” She hits on her last few words hard with frustration, the words hitting Shaw in the hit like arrows. He nods quietly in simple agreement with the question.
“Love ya, Lis.” Genuinity creeps through the near-whisper.
“Love ya too, Carter...everything will be alright.” The words draw an eyebrow raise from Shaw, surprised at the oft-used company phrase. He settles into it for a moment.
“Do you actually mean that?” Shaw was met with silence, as Lissie had already hung up. He takes a peek at the phone before slipping it slowly into his pocket. Embraced by only the breeze, comforted by only his hands finding their way into the front pouch of his hoodie, Shaw looked out into the darkness. All too familiar.
Johnny Bacchus fuckin’ hates me.
If you took the moral fiber that Bacchus is made up of and held it side by side with mine, you’d probably predict that, over time, we’d be on the same team.
Maybe I have biased eyes on such a hypothetical. But it’s not for the reason that people like Baccus immediately assume. Bacchus jumps on assumptions and self-fulfilling conclusions quicker than he jumps on a BOGO leather jacket deal at JCPenney. Johnny hates me and this guy has never had a single real conversation with me. Ever.
Now, I’m not dumb and I’m not that naive. I know that his problem with Philidor is quite a large umbrella but while he continues to pretend like he knows me, let’s actually look at what Mr. Chimp Mode thinks he knows.
Carter Shaw was once such a good guy, right? I had that genuinity factor that Bacchus touts and it got completely stripped clean the moment I decided to sign a sponsorship deal. But during the course of my partnership with Philidor Holdings, I went from Mr. All-In to Mr. AW World Champion. I skyrocketed towards heights everyone knew I was capable of but didn’t quite see it happening as early as it did. But as much integrity as I showed in my decision to cash in that contract to be part of the Evolution Main Event...because that’s what I knew the contract deserved, the World Title deserved AND what Action Wrestling deserved...Nah. It was shat on like I was some sort of scumbag. Why? I earned every fucking ounce of that opportunity. Every ounce. No snake. No rat. Just Carter Shaw putting it ALL on the line to try and become YOUR AW World Champion the right way.
Terrible of me, right? No wonder why Johnny Bacchus hates me. That damn umbrella. But ya know what Johnny really hates? What Johnny really fears? Johnny is a genuine guy who’s biggest fear is turning into Carter Shaw. That’s the piece of the Philidor puzzle I fit into in his mind. That’s what he sees. He sees his own inevitability. That as much as you try to stick to your guns, your beliefs, your morals, eventually...you’re found out. Me? I needed purpose, I needed direction to kick me into that next gear. And look at what 2021 CARTER SHAW fuckin’ brought to the goddamn table.
This comes at perfect timing, after losing his beloved Hardcore title. When Bacchus realizes his plateau is ‘a great former Hardcore Champion’ and someone who ‘beat Philidor in a tag team match once’...it’s either drown in the desire for more or seeking out new ways to accomplish more. Sorry Johnny. Philidor may be everything you hate, but me? I’m everything you think you might become.
And that’s fine. You worry that you might become financially secure for the first time in your entire life and successful in your profession beyond anyone’s ‘first year’ expectations? Hello. I am that.
You got yourself a little vindication at Clash last week, didn’t you? Getting to stand over Ash Blake like fuckin’ Negan with the baseball bat in hand. But while you get a W to end the night over ‘Philidor’, it ended up being 4 of you beating the shit out of Ash Blake. Philidor Holdings wasn’t conquered, although we did have some questions to end the night. You didn’t slay any beast. You got to take out your sore loser frustrations out on the woman who beat you for the Hardcore Championship and you got to drag Vanguard and Corey Black into the tap dance.
Lissie hesitating to put you down? Questions for her to answer.
And I didn’t walk out on Philidor, I walked out on Ash Blake. Clear distinction. I’m not standing here to say she didn’t deserve the comeuppance. I’m just saying that it feels ironic to me that you point your finger in my direction yelling ‘bad guy’ while you puff your chest out after your 4-on-1 victory.
This would hit so much different for you if you didn’t fuckin’ fumble the ball at Execution. What would feel like the true pieces crumbling at the hands of Obnoxious Johnny Bacchus is now just fuckin’ musical chairs. Who’s takin’ a seat this week?
I’m loving the patterns though, because we’re about to go from
ASH BLAKE DEFEATS JOHNNY BACCHUS FOR THE AW HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP
To
JOHNNY BACCHUS, COREY BLACK, DOWNFALL AND DIONYSIS STAND TALL OVER PHILIDOR TO END CLASH
To
JOHNNY BACCHUS LOSES TO CARTER SHAW IN THE FIRST ROUND OF THE TURMOIL TOURNAMENT.
Talk about a see-saw. Let us begin the countdown to the mental collapse on the day that Johnny Bacchus learns that he will never become king. This land ain’t for you. You can claim little territories all you want. Make all the little friends amongst the locker room all you want. But this land ain’t yours for the taking. This Monday? All you’ll be taking is a boomerang you threw coming right back to smack you in the face.
But hey. Look at us both lugging around empty hands. No World Title. No Hardcore Title. My gold is worn by Kyle Kemp, yours by Ash Blake. I get the strong feeling that I’m going to handle this loss better than you, because your self-worth went down the drain along with that title reign, didn’t it? Is that why each extra shot you got to take on an abandoned Ash Blake felt so good?
I took a hit losing that World Title, sure. Everyone does when the whole world has grown accustomed to seeing gold around a person’s waist, same way they have you. But I still have Philidor, a purpose to fight for. Something that I’m a part of.
An enemy of an enemy is a friend mentality doesn’t make you a part of something for any longer than the one night stand. Other than that title, the closest you’ve come to feeling a sense of worth is when you thought for a hot second that the crazy mess that was Mae was into you.
Maybe you should be a little more sensitive to other people’s situations, Bacchus, and realize that you’re not the only one who’s had some tough road to get to where you’re at. Spend a little bit more time looking for perspective and a little less time looking for ill-fated redemption. It can only help your image that you pretend not to care about.
Nothing like a rebel yell from a thousand miles away. I’d commend you for showing true grit in your grand stand against Philidor, but other than an ex-girlfriend’s relocation, you don’t even know what the hell you’re fighting against. You don’t even know what you’re fighting for.
All part of the image. CHIMP MODE. You’ll die for your image and that’s so punk rock of you. Too bad I’m gonna see to it that you’re nothing more than fuckin’ disco.
Johnny is the Indie movie that doesn’t know what to do with a bigger budget. Artsy film, fine choreography, striking scenery, strong marketing and he’ll end up wondering why nobody ended up going to see it in theatres. Your career will go down as a cult classic, but after your loss to Ash Blake and after I fuckin’ punt you out of even thinking about calling yourself the Wrestler Of My Year...you’ll enter the phase that every true cult classic went through. The part where the critics finally see your weaknesses and tear you apart.
It’s been quite a year for both of us, Bacchus. You were blowin’ up CJ Phoenix while I was becoming the AW World Champion. You were standing your ground, defending your territory against guys like Max Daemon and Kyle Kemp while I was raking in Main Events over Corey Black, Spencer Adams and, ofcourse, Ash Blake. I don’t need to tell you how impressive my run was with the Title; and will be again; just like you don’t need to tell me how oh-so-sweet yours was.
If the wrestling world was making a LIST of people to whom 2021 belonged to, we would both be on it. No doubt. You fuckin’ scratched, clawed, bled and whined your way through the year with alot of success to your name. You’re a scrapper, Johnny Bacchus. A thinker. But you’re also an overachiever who is on borrowed time sitting on a Fisher Price throne. The Turmoil Tournament isn’t about making a list. It isn’t about having your name on the bracket come week 1. It’s about the last...man...standing. And I’ve BEEN the last man standing enough times this year to fuckin’ SELF-PROCLAIM myself the #1 seed in this thing. Not Kyle Kemp, reverting the All-In briefcase to it’s pathetic ways. Not Dandy DiVito and his 10 second reign after managing to cut my forehead. Not Ash Blake, who became the backseat driver. Not Lissie Hope, although she’s fucking phenomenal. Not Downfall, who can collect the participatory potential ribbon at the end. And not half the fuckin’ field that had fallen victim to my run at the top.
Carter
Shaw
Was
2021
2021
Was
Carter
Shaw
And I will cement that fact when I am ONCE AGAIN the last man standing at the end of the Turmoil Tournament. Ash Blake’s in the Tournament, so what did Bacchus really accomplish? There’s no flag planted, there’s no real changing of the guard here beyond all the title changes that just took place.
Just shufflin’ cards.
What if, what if, Lissie Hope didn’t hesitate last week. What if, after ALL that teambuilding and fist shaking, Lissie planted Johnny with that Crown Of Thorns and sent him packing then and there like she could have. That power was in her hands, the moment was there. I suppose Johnny’s lucky it’s just a what if scenario. Maybe Lissie Hope was the only one to come out of Spooky Clash a true winner.
I’ll be more than happy to show you first hand, Mr. Bacchus, what a true reality check is for Toon World. It’s your hair double-dyed red with your own blood and your face green with envy; you’ll be all fuckin’ set for Christmas. And when you’re on your knees weeping, trying to catch the falling ashes from the dumpster fire that your career’s about to become, I’ll size you up...and either kick you square in the mouth or walk away and let you figure out how to put the puzzle back together.
Then you’ll finally have something to judge me on. Until then, keep playing the good guy and hope that Trey Bouchet is still there to catch you on your inevitable fall from ‘grace’.
I will be your Wrestler Of The Year, and maybe I’ll even have won back my AW World Championship by the time I do so. I take it back, maybe I’m the overachiever.
And by the time that Turmoil coronation happens? Maybe Johnny’s cough will pass and his lungs will just be clearing after eating my fuckin’ dust. That cough though, Johnny. You’re gonna have to provide two negative tests before next Clash or else you can’t have your match with Bam Beefer.
A Round 1 oust ain’t so bad. Atleast there’s no prolonged tease for you this time around.
Simply Put.
In the back of the arena, Shaw sat shell shocked on top of an equipment box. Looming steps away from him on the other side of the hallway, Peter Garvey stood with his hands on his hips. Eyes straight forward, not a single expression to give. Shaw looked up at him a couple times, but there were clearly thousands of thoughts bashing against the inside of his forehead. Shaw didn’t know what to say in the moment, he was overpowered by his own decision. He wasn’t sure what was winning the arm-wrestle; Accomplishment or Regret.
“Did we just make a terrible mistake?”
“Prob’ly.”