Ken Davison Vs. Jack Michaels

AMC Movie Theatre

Las Vegas, NV

August 17th, 1981

10:15 PM




“Man that movie was so cool, Papa! Thanks for taking me to see it!”





13-year-old Jack Michaels was beaming from ear to ear as he and his grandfather Theodore (Ted) Michaels came walking out of the theatre showing the latest John Carpenter movie, Escape from New York. The elder Michaels smiled warmly and took his grandson around the shoulders as the two walked back towards the exit.




“Bah, you earned it Jacky. Straight A’s deserves to be rewarded in my book. Just don’t tell your Mom I took you to an R rated movie. Your Dad I can handle… Your Mom may kill me.”




Jack laughed as he and his Papa walked towards the exit. Even at his young age, the young man was nearly the same height as his 6 foot grandfather although his gangly arms and legs poked out from his shorts and polo shirt. By contrast, the older man was built well for his age; a broad chest straining against the green sweater jacket he wore and callused hands from a lifetime of work. Although just a few years short of 70, it could be easy to see how someone could mistake him for someone a decade younger.




“Nah, Mom loves you. She just wishes you’d stop smoking when you come over.”





Ted chuckled.




“That woman can smell tobacco from a mile away. She’s worse than some of the boys when I got care packages during the war. I’d light one smoke and suddenly I was more popular than Rita Hayworth in a bathing suit.”




As he said this, his hand reached into his pocket and produced a pack of cigarettes from inside. He went to get one out but quickly found his pack to be empty.




“Well… Since I need to stop smoking at your house, I need to go buy some more and smoke now. You want to go to the arcade while I head to the concession stand?”



Jack nodded quickly as his Papa reached into his pocket and produced a handful of nickels.




“Go have fun. I’ll be over in a second.”




The younger Michaels took the coins and ran over to where a line of arcade cabinets and pinball machines filled a small room. His eyes glowed as he scanned the machines and saw one that had just came out.




“Donkey Kong…?”




With the strange words coming out of his mouth, Jack wandered over to the machine and fed two nickels into it. Within moments, Jack was lost in the world of barrel chucking gorillas and hammer swinging future plumbers. As such, he didn’t notice the 4 young men in UNLV basketball shirts coming into the arcade. They were all tall and lean, passing a snuck in brown paper bag between them. They all took a look at the new arcade machine and seemed impressed.




“Take a look at this, Tommy! My brother was telling me about this game when he came down from Reno. Supposed to be a lot of fun.”




The sandy haired boy in the middle took a swig off the bottle and nodded his head.




“Yeah, it does. Hey kid, you about dead yet? I want to give it a shot.”




Jack never looked up from the screen as a smile came over his face.




“I got one guy left and I’m kicking some monkey butt. I’m going for the top score.”




The defacto leader known as Tommy turned to look at his friends with mock excited look on his face. He passed the bottle off to one of his friends and suddenly bumped the young Jack off the machine and to the ground.




“HEY!”




The noise of Mario getting killed by a barrel followed by the game over screen caused Tommy to shrug.




“Looks like you died, kid. My turn.”




Jack stood up quickly; upset and with a slight quiver to his voice.




“You’re a jerk, dude. That wasn’t fair.”




Tommy turned from the screen and faced his friends who all made “ooh” noises. A dark smile came over his face as he turned to look at Jack.




“What did you call me?”




Jack swallowed hard as he looked at the group in front of him.




“I uh… Nothing man. Just play the stupid game.”




Jack tried to walk away but suddenly Tommy grabbed him by his collar and shoved him up against the cabinet. His head hit hard against the large picture of Mario as Tommy leaned in close.




“Nah, I think you were being a little fucking smartass and I think you should apologize to me before I beat the shit out of…”




“What’s going on here, fellas?”




The elder Michaels took a drag off his cigarette as he walked towards the group. Tommy dismissed Ted as his eyes stayed locked on Jack.




“This doesn’t concern you, old man. Go take a hike so I can get my apology from this little punk.”




Jack looked at his grandpa with panicked eyes as he shook his head.




“I didn’t do anything wrong, Papa! I swear!”




Ted smiled lightly as he kept walking forward and tapped Tommy on the shoulder.




“See, I think you can let him go. I’m sure there was a bit of a misunderstanding between you and my grandson and we work this out, right? Why don’t we head over to the snack counter, I’ll buy you and your friends a couple of cokes and we call it a night?”




Tommy gave an incredulous look at Ted before shaking his head.




“Get the fuck out of here old man before I beat your ass too.”




Ted chuckled to himself as he took another drag on his cigarette.




“Okay…”




Ted brought the cigarette up and dug it into the back of Tommy’s neck which caused him to yelp in pain and surprise. He let go of Jack as all of the friends checked on their leader who cursed to himself. Ted turned to Jack.




“Go wait in the car, son. I’ll be there shortly.”




“But…”




Ted narrowed his gaze.




“No buts, Jacky. GO.”




Jack was a bit shocked by the command in his Grandpa’s voice but nodded and rushed out of the arcade. He stopped short of the exit and kept an eye around the corner as Ted rolled up the sleeves on his jacket and turned back to the group.




“Now now, I didn’t want to do that but you shouldn’t be picking on a kid. I’ll chalk it up to what I’m guessing is the liquid courage from the smell of your breath. Why don’t you and your friends go sleep it off and we’ll just call it a night. What do you say?”




Tommy walked away from his friends and suddenly jabbed a finger into Ted’s chest.




“I say you can go fuck yourself, old man. I say I’m going to beat the shit out of you and then your little punk grandson. How does that sound?”




The same small smile came back to Ted’s face as he brushed the finger away from his chest.




“I think those hormones of yours are about to get you hurt, boy. Walk away."




Tommy rolled his eyes and scoffed.




“Who in the fuck do you think you a-RGH!”




With speed unbecoming of his age, Ted reached his large right hand out and grabbed Tommy by the windpipe. The small group of friends all took a step back as the seemingly docile grandfather now squeezed the man a ⅓ his age down to a knee with a maddening glint in his eye.




“I’m Ted Michaels. Staff Sergeant United States Army 45th Infantry Division. While the lot of you were still floating in your Daddy’s balls, I was out humping dirt across Europe with the lives of 40 different soldiers in my hands. I’ve spilt blood, watched friends die and killed men in three different countries. I did it so my family and my country could live free without the fear and pain you maggots seem to thrive on. That’s who I am, boy, and my fight hasn’t stopped.”




Jack could only peek from around the corner as he saw a look on his grandfather’s face that he’d never seen before. It was cold but not devoid of emotion. He could see the eyes of a younger man who’d seen and done things found only in nightmares for a purpose higher than his own. The group could see it too as he tossed their leader to the floor. He glared at all of the group as a twitch came over the glint in his left eye.




“If you want to fight, we can fight. I’ll walk to my car and wait for each of you to come out one at a time. Just know… I’ve lived a good life… And I won’t stand to let my grandson have anything less than that.”




The old man let his breathing slow as he eyeballed Tommy right in front of him.




“I’m ready to die, boy. What about you?”



----







Jack Michaels’ Basement Gym

Las Vegas, NV

September 20th, 2020

9:40 AM





“Are you just going to stare at pictures on the wall or are you going to let me see your shoulder?”





Jack’s eyes snapped back to reality as he slowly removed his t-shirt and winced as Amber Ryan stood behind him on the bench and checked out the damage around his right arm. He’d been sparring with his daughter in the ring when a miscued bump drill caused him to land awkwardly on his shoulder.




“Yeah, you got a pretty nasty knot there, Pops. I’ll see if I can rub it out.”




Amber grabbed a small jar of icy hot out of the first aid bag and began to rub the muscle around the shoulder blade. As she did, Jack’s gaze fell back to the picture he’d been lost in before; a snapshot of a smiling teenage Jack holding up a boxing trophy next to his mother and grandfather. Amber looked where his gaze was and raised an eyebrow.




“Is that your Mom and Dad?”




Jack shook his head.




“No, that’s my Mom and my Dad’s Dad. Ted Michaels. My Papa. He was more of a father than my real Dad growing up.”




Amber squinted her eyes and looked at him closer.




“You two have the same smile. What was he like?”




“He was a good man… Always supportive of whatever I wanted to do. My Dad… Well, let’s just say my Papa filled in the gaps where he fell short. Taught me where value really should lie in this world. Plus, he always had a joke or a story from his time in the war. I think you would have liked him.”




Amber nodded as she turned her focus back to working out the knot in Jack’s arm.




“Maybe… As long as his jokes weren’t as bad as yours.”




Jack chuckled a bit.




“They were worse.”




Amber was even forced to smile at that.




“Yeah, I probably would like him then. I don’t suppose the old guy is still around?”




The smile faded from Jack’s face.




“No. He died from Lung Cancer back in ‘91. He fought till the end but uh… Yeah.”




Amber nodded solemnly as she finished rubbing out the muscle and handed Jack his shirt.




“Okay, Pops, that’s the best I can do.”




Jack took his shirt and put it back on gingerly as he tested his shoulder. After a few rotations, he turned to head back into the ring when Amber grabbed him by his left forearm.




“Look, I’m not one to stand here and question anything, but are you really sure about this? Honestly, all of this… All this comeback trying to defend the ‘my honor’, ‘the honor of Carnage’, and us, and--...I love you, I do, but at the same time I can’t just stand by and let you walk into this knowing that everyone else out there thinks you’re full of shit. Sure, you’re doing what's right by your family- but is it really worth throwing so much away for?”




Jack let out a sigh as he kept his eyes locked back on the ring. Amber let go of his arm as Jack bowed his head slightly.




“Do you know what it means to sacrifice Amber?”




Amber looked incredulous at the statement.




“Of course I know what it means to…”




Jack shot his head back around and looked his daughter in the eyes. There was a moment of silence between the two as Amber studied the older man intently. For the first time in a long time, she felt like maybe she didn’t know what he meant.




“I’ve spent my entire life fighting for the right thing. Maybe it was to be a champion, maybe it was to lead a cause, maybe it was to protect my own legacy... With each passing day, I gave up more and more of what made me who I was in order to achieve what I felt should be done. I watched a world grow and die around me until at the end of the day, I was the last one who was left. That’s what sacrifice is, Amber, and it’s something that until recently that I didn’t know I had made. The truth is….. The only thing left that makes me who I am… Is you.”





Amber kept her mouth closed as Jack shook his head.




“The older I get, the more I leave behind. That’s just the way life is. However, when I look at you and Lil Amber, I realize that a part of what I tried to do continues to thrive. Continues to grow. Continues to build into something so wonderful, so beautiful that I can’t find the words to describe it. I have to try and do what I think is right.”




Part of her wanted to argue; that somehow all of this could be made to make sense in a way that didn’t involve potentially throwing everything they’d built, everything they’d worked for into the wind. However words didn’t come easily, stuck somewhere in between good intentions and a constant question she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.




“What if you aren’t though… What if you aren’t right this time…”




Jack took a deep breath as the silence seemed to last a lifetime between them. With a small nod, he spoke again.




“Maybe I’m not right by Ken’s or Kyra’s or Carnage’s standards. I don’t know... I’m not God. I just know in my heart what it feels like I should be doing. My legacy will live on… Because I’ve lived a good life. I’ve raised and adopted two wonderful daughters. I’ve built them a life and I can take comfort in knowing that they will be cared for long after I’m gone. Yet, Ken wants to ruin that. He wants to destroy who you are because of who he thinks he is. No more, Amber. Just… No more.”




Jack turned back away from Amber and started to climb back into the ring.




“If Ken wants to fight… We’ll fight. I’ve got nothing to lose anymore. My story is over. Yours… It’s just getting started.”




Jack stopped on the apron and stared off into eternity.




“I’m ready to die, Amber. I just hope he is too.”




Jack got into the ring and began to run the ropes again as Amber stood somewhat dumbstruck on the outside. She watched him for a moment before a whisper came from under her breath.




“I can’t let you die, Jack… Because my story needs you in it.”



----





Priorities are a funny thing.




Over the last couple months, I’ve been reflecting a lot on how my life used to be. At first, it was about being the best. Taking out the top. Walking in the clouds because I could prove that I was just that much better than the other guy. 23 years ago I won my first World title and then I won another.




And another.




And another.




Time kept going and that drive to simply be the best began to fade. At that point, I was a 34 year old man in his prime with a chip on his shoulder who needed something more; a purpose bigger than himself. I think it was at that point the foundation of what Paragon stood for began. It was more about giving them... The fans... Something to believe in.




...



And... I failed. I failed because I couldn’t see past my blind ambition to adapt to a changing world. The truth is, the world of wrestling has become ruled by this strange fight against a machine that seems to be as intangible as Twitter posts and Facebook updates. I don’t understand it, I don’t know how to adapt to it and it’s beyond what I know how to fight. In the end, that is probably the one thing I have to admit freely… I’m not the 34 year old champion in his prime fighting to ensure the sport's future but rather I’m now a man who used anger and pride as a way to try and mold something that perhaps didn’t need to be molded.



...





I can admit this. I can admit that fault. But... I can also admit I discovered something else.




I found a small group of wrestlers who were willing to look beyond my shortcomings and see what I was trying to do. I wasn't some egomaniacal monster bent on stopping change but rather just an old soul trying to bring some of what motivated him into a modern era. Maybe the methods were misguided but the message never changed. I honestly was trying to do what I felt was right.




In that process, I also found the one person just as flawed as me… Just as confused as I was… Not just about wrestling but about life as a whole. Someone who I was able to connect to and share with. Someone who could accept who I was for the sake of better understanding herself. I could help teach about my failures and dreams so she could grow into the wrestler she deserved to be.




She was my partner.



She was my daughter.



She was my Amber.




When she asked me to fight her, I mean really to fight her, I knew what needed to be done. She wouldn’t accept anything less than “The Blast” Jack Michaels at his most vicious. When I lost the title to Amber… I thought I was done. I had no desire to be at the top anymore. No drive to fight to be the best. No reason to stay in the world of professional wrestling because the right person had the torch and I’d done what I wanted to do… My daughter asked for the best and I gave Amber the validation she’d always wanted; that she’d always deserved in this world. Sure, I lost my belt, my fiancee and respect from those who thought they knew who I was. However, at the end, I’d given her the best gift a father could give a daughter.




I gave her HOPE.



...




And then…




You had to try and take all that away, didn’t you Ken? Winning and losing the belt was one thing… I get that. You beat Amber fair and square but it wasn’t enough for you to be the champion. It wasn’t enough for you to stand toe to toe and be the best. No… You had to play these mind games to torment her. You made me watch her be tortured all the way up to the end of your match… And then you had to try and cripple her because, to you, THAT was the right thing to do. THAT was what would make you feel like a champion. THAT was what would make you GODLY.



…



What a fucking JOKE.



…



Let’s cut the crap away and talk about what is really at stake here. I wanted this to be about me and you. Taking my revenge on the piece of shit who hurt my blood… And make no mistake, adopted or not, she is MY blood. However, to the roster, they thought it was a joke. The old guard seizing a chance to get back to the top… But even before I took it off the table… You knew, Ken. You knew what was coming for you. You saw the obstacle. The peak of the mountain that had eluded you for your entire career.




Oh, and you hated me for it.




You hated me because you don’t understand how I did it. How I had the success where you failed. You want to destroy me because deep down... You want everything I've ever had and prove to the world you can destroy the last bastion of your past. Title or not... You need to know if you can honestly beat Jack Michaels.




…



And sadly, I think you can.



...



It’s a tough pill to swallow when you have to accept reality. I want to lie to myself and say my knees don't hurt. My back isn't sore. The joints don't throb working the bag in the gym. I want to lie and say that I am the same man I was when I first hit a heavy bag as a boxer but I can't. I don't have a pocketful of tomorrows anymore. I don't have the hope and giddiness of a kid just starting in this business. I spent all my tomorrows bleeding, sweating, fighting and crying on five continents over the last 20 years... Not seeing my kid grow up was my credo because I had to keep going. Missing my father's funeral was my life because the fans needed me. In short... There are no reruns and no rainbow of the future. There is only a cold and dark reality that I am an old man making a final stand to do what is right for his daughter, his morals and his life.




The thing is…




I think that’s what has got you scared, Ken. You realize it now, don’t you? You realize there is no tomorrow for me. I got one shot at doing this right. One shot to fight through whatever bloodbath we come up with until either Amber or Kyra feels we can’t take it anymore. Amber knows where I stand… And I have no worries about her throwing in that towel but to you... I mean out of sheer spite... Will the UltraViolent Goddess actually throw the towel in for you? Will she let you lose to this old man who she feels broke her apart? Will she let you fall to this monster who has nothing left to lose but yet everything to fight for? What about if we bring in the weapons? Chains... Chairs... Glass... Blood… At what point is it too much for you? When do the broken bones add up? When do you realize I’m not saving anything left in the tank for the trip back? When do you ask yourself how do I stop a man who doesn’t care if he lives or dies?



...




Will you beg her? Will you beg her to throw in the towel?




Will you… Scream?




I think you’ll scream. You'll beg and plead and do whatever you can to end the torment and she won’t be willing to help you… And where does that leave you?




It leaves you at the hands of mercy of a God you don’t truly know. A God who has come down to smite the evil from this earth and give his child the chance for the righteous vengeance he deserves. He has put your fate in the hands of the man who knows no future and feels only wrath... Wrath and the honor of giving his life to take yours. Welcome to hell, Ken.



…




….




……...




Now... You can scream.