Sebastian Hawke Vs. Casanova English

Imbeciles would call what I accomplished this past Chaos a failure.

It’s just a matter of perspective. And I can’t blame you idiots for only seeing half the picture.

I got what I want.

A big PPV match -- my name in lights -- the talk of the town and I haven’t even been here three months.

You can craft the narrative the way you want on Twitter like some former authoritarian like leaders -- but people saw what happened at Chaos with their own two eyes.

Yes, I hit you with a low blow. Yes, the bell rang. Yes, on paper Hawke won the match.

I’d be a liar if I said I played by the rules 100 per cent of the time. I am willing to admit I am an opportunist. In a real fight. In the real world -- where I come from -- where I manifested through grit and determination -- we’ll coming up I’ve been hit with low blow after low blow -- it's just a way of life.

In the real world getting hit below the belt doesn’t stop the fight -- it keeps on going until someone can’t stand. That’s when the bell is supposed to ring.

Kid, I’m living rent free in your mind day in and day out -- maybe at Act of Defiance I do you a favour and open it up. Crack that skull open and relieve the pressure building up.

An I quit match? Sebastian honestly thinks I would be scared -- intimidated by the prospect of being able to put my cigarette out in the centre of his forehead and it’s all legal? Fuck, that’s why I came back. That’s why I’m here.

I’m a fucking pretty boy killer -- a Goliath slayer -- I’m the Modern Day Messiah.

Ransom was telling the old ‘I told you so’ story over and over again. He trounced around my apartment, his size-12 work boots still on. He sat down on the couch opposite me forcing me to close down my laptop and stare away from the repeat of the match I had for the Chaos Championship. I had watched it twenty times at least, studying Sebastian's movements -- where he slips up -- where he makes mistakes.

“Watching the match again?,” Ransom asked.

“You know it would have gone differently if I was out there at ringside shouting support, giving you a heads up, distracting the referee if need be.”

“I don’t need it,” I say staring away from him.

“I’m not saying you NEED anything -- I’m just letting you know I could have ensured you were Chaos Champion. I don’t get it. Why bother getting me to come with you if you aren’t willing to put me to use. I should have just stayed home.”

“You haven’t been giving the best advice, this is a two way street,” I snap back. “Last week you had me looking like a fucking fool messing around with some bullshit witchcraft to try and beat Sebastian.”

“Doesn’t work too well if you aren’t a true believer.”

“Listen to yourself for Christ sake,” I say, snickering. “I think the problem is I put the tiniest bit of faith in that mumbo jumbo. I wasted my time expecting him to slip up like Voodoo predicted… but when it didn’t come to fruition I had no other choice but to end the match.”

I lean forward from my chair and snatch up the pack of Marlboro Reds off the wood grain coffee table. I slide one up out of the package by half an inch and put it the rest of the way with my lips.

“That isn’t going to happen this time. Not at Act of Defiance. I can’t let him walk out with the championship. It’s not even that I need it or want it that bad. I just have to hear that little shit squeak out the words ‘I Quit.’"

“Sounds like you are getting a little obsessed,” Ransom said.

I pull a lighter from my pocket, flick it, put the flame to the end of the cigarette.

“It seems to me like this is a way for you to really prove you are back in this thing in a full capacity. Who better to do it against than someone who is on the cusp of his prime. But you and I both know that’s a double edged sword Cas,” Ransom said leaning back into the couch cushion and looking to the ceiling.

“If only there was someone who could guarantee… just in case things get bad. I know you want to prove you can do this all on your own. I know this conversation feels like it is on repeat -- but it’s time to pull the trigger on getting me in that ring -- you know I am ready for it.”

“Just a few more matches. Once I establish myself as a force in this industry once more I’ll pull you in and let everyone know who is the reason for my condition -- for my success,” I said, hoping to keep him buttered up.

Iron sharpens iron -- but I can’t let Ransom know about his true potential yet. The guy was my retirement plan. When all this is said and done -- when they have to pull Casanova English out on a stretcher and they think its all over -- The Orphanage is gone. Then Alex Ransom will rise, a man groomed to destroy their heroes, their poster boys and girls.

It was all part of the master plan. But not til I am done. Then I’ll be ready to tutor the take over -- march in an army and truly establish the revolution. A real one -- not this bullshit they talk about on the news.

“It just isn’t time Ransom. When it is we both will know.”

I could tell it was about to happen again. He was going to get up, walk out of living room, out of my home and slam the door.

That’s exactly what he did. Like clockwork weekly, the same every Wednesday evening to the point where I was suspicious he was starting this fight on purpose so he had an excuse to leave. He always comes back late. Staggers through the door I leave unlocked for him and passes out on the couch.

I have to think he is relapsing-- but he isn’t sick in the morning. No smell of liquor on his breath, no track marks up his arms. And he’s always in a much better mood.

I sat there smoking my cigarette, staring at the ember and blowing clouds into it. I set the camcorder up holding the cigarette between my lips, as I flick it on it starts with an up close shot of the ember as I slowly move back sitting in the chair letting out a sigh.

“Well, I should be sitting her in front of you as the Chaos Champion -- but as fate would have it -- the bell preserved Sebastian’s championship reign. I know it’s a loss on my record book, I can accept that, but we all know Casanova English is no one trick pony and now my actions have lead to an even bigger match… an even bigger opportunity… but something has been eating away at me when I look back at the things Sebastian said before out match at Chaos. It worries me about how you squander opportunity Sebastian so let me offer a little insight on how I would handle things if I am to become Chaos Champion.”

I take a sharp drag off the cigarette before letting it fall from my lips gently to the ground. I don’t even stop it, just let it burn slow on the hardwood floor.

“See you refer to the tile you hold as an entry level championship, and I am not above calling a spade a spade. But you need to learn to take that opportunity and do something with it. It’s not just a championship, it’s a platform, you’re holding the fucking talking stick and the sad part is you have nothing fucking interesting to say. Don’t blame being vanilla on the championship, that’s a poor excuse. I’ve always been a man that believes the man behind the belt makes the title mean something. Not to get sappy, and I won’t… this title is called the Chaos Championship for a reason. I am more than ready to cease and appreciate opportunity. I’m ready to take that title from you and defend it each and every week, to cut my teeth on Chaos week after week putting on classic after classic just like I have the past two matches. You can’t sit here and tell me I have not been elevating this product.”

I slowly pick the cigarette up off the ground and put the burning ember to my exposed forearm, there are three faded circular scars.

“Where I came from the fellas just loved pissing contests. Loved to try and punk each other out. A lot of the time I was the target of that being the smallest guy. I’m not telling this story for sympathy. I am telling it for context. We’d fuck around putting cigarettes out on each others arms, chest, face… well one night this jock and egged me on, I pushed three cigarettes into my forearm. So did he, the most anyone had done. No one really wanted to have that much scaring -- but when I pushed him he pulled a log from the fire -- both of us stuck our arms out and the burning log was dropped at the same time. I moved my hand away at the last second and Chad didn’t -- let the log hit his arm and it melted his flesh on impact. He shook and shook as the log burned into his skin. I remember him shrieking into the night -- he managed to keep his arm -- but he sacrificed his football career.”

I pull the cigarette away from my flesh and put it out slowly on the coffee table.

“I tell this story for context Hawke. It’s a warning about impulse. The thing I do is kick out, the thing I do is keep fighting, and if I can’t well… you saw what I am willing to do to save face. See Sebastian, in retrospect I think that Tweet you sent asking for an I Quit match will serve as the world’s shortest suicide letter. You didn’t do you research. You don’t understand even after being in the ring with me… what I am truly capable of.”

I lean back in the chair relaxing, letting out a sombre sigh.

“Don’t worry Mr and Mrs Hawke I won’t send little Sabby home in a body bag. I’ll drop him on his neck so he’ll have the perfect excuse to go back to the suburbs with mommy and daddy -- wheelchair ridden -- bedsores pending.”

Hawke and Ransom weren’t all that different. They were unappreciative of opportunity. Ungrateful of where they are now and where they came from. I think it’s time to remind small men, things like guns, steroids and championships were just invented to make them feel tall.

It’s all an illusion I aim to chatter.

I snap the camera off and start pacing my living room. I had to figure it out. I had to know where Ransom was going. I couldn’t truly focus on Sebastian and the Chaos Championship til I figured out where he was going. And I think that weirdo Voodoo is the only one who might know where he vanishes once a week.

I hear thuds as I approach V’s apartment door. The smell of incense lingers in the hallway. As I went to knock on the door it seems to swing open by itself and invite me inside. A ouija board sat on her kitchen table with skulls hung along the wall staring.

None of this bullshit helped me deal with my opponent last week -- but to each their own. If a crystal up your ass gets you out of bed and rocks your chakra -- all the power to you.

I could still hear the whacking echoing through the entire apartment. I followed the sound. Slowly, I opened a door to see V in a tank top, camouflage cargo pants and her dreads tied back in a ponytail. Sweat flowed in beads off her shoulder. Across from her was a life size dummy, the disturbing cutout image of Sebastian Hawke’s face stapled to it. A wild tuft of hair was glued to the top to represent Hawke’s mane.

V was wielding a kendo stick. She was leaning back taking a few steps and hammering it in the chest of the dummy. She turns around, I startle her -- she swings the stick toward my head and I lean back quick enough just to feel the wind on my nose.

“Yikes, watch where you are swinging that thing. Shouldn’t someone prevalent in the dark arts know I am coming.”

“It’s not a dark art,” she says offended as he lays another hit on the fake Hawke.

“Well whatever the fuck it is it sure as hell didn’t help me win the championship from Hawke.”

“You probably didn’t believe enough. Faith plays a huge part in everything.”

That was the exact same bullshit Ransom was trying to sell me.

“Well maybe this will help huh? Trying to give the poor kid black lung or some shit by beating him in the chest?”

“No, I’m trying to visualize and bring to fruition your win. Maybe if I have enough faith, your lack won’t really matter… and we can get a step closer to getting Ransom in the ring.”

“Why… why is he so hard-up to get in the ring?”

V turns to face me, she poke the kendo stick into my chest.

“He needs it. You don’t understand… he’s living sheltered… he’s living reserved… he needs that outlet for his anger, or…” She swings as hard as she can letting out a scream as the stick thuds into the chest fo the dummy. “Things will get bad. He’ll fall into old habits Cas. I know that neither of us want that.”

“Well maybe you know where he stomps off to when he’s feeling pissed off?”

“No idea really,” V said. “But when I came to town he did give me this card.”

She walks over to a dark wood end table, she leans the kendo stick against the wall and pulls a drawer out. From the drawer the pulls out a small card and sticks her arm out toward me holding it between two fingers.

I go to grab it but she pulls away at the last second.

“Cas, I know you don’t know me like you know Ranson. But the way he talked about you for all those years training. The way he waited for you to come back, said that’d you’d be coming to set us all free. That’d you were the only one who could carve a path to the mountain top. I’m not sure I’m sold on you,” she gestures at the shrunken heads hanging from the doorframe of the small office.

“Just like you aren’t exactly sold on all this. But I am sold on Ransom, he has a good heart and he can be great. I know you aren’t ready to step aside quite yet, but you can help each other. You just have to let him.”

She offered the card again. I took it -- nodding in affirmation.

I held up the card in front of the bar itself. Ransom's number scribbled on a card for Leon’s Backroom. I finished my cigarette and stomped on it before stuffing the card into my pocket and approaching the door man.

“Hey, cover tonight?”

“Free on Wednesday’s,” he said, moving aside and letting me in -- not bothering to ask for ID.

I could tell by some of the rainbow and LGBT+ oriented decor that this was a gay bar -- for lack of a better term. I mean the answer is obvious, but I don’t want to make assumptions. Maybe this is a place for Ransom to escape, to go to and have a drink without anyone bothering him or me finding out where he was and coming to disturb him -- too late.

I could see the top of his head just popping out from a booth and I trotted over.

“Thought you could hide from…,” I said not realizing a smaller man was sitting across from him. He wore faded blue jeans, a Slayer tee and a pair of well worked boots.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Ransom’s face grew flush red with anger and embarrassment.

“Sure you didn’t,” he said.

“Look, I had no idea there was someone else in the picture," the smaller guy with a 5 o’clock shadow said.

“No, it isn’t like that,” Ransom protested, his eyes locking on this man then veering up toward me.

“I better get out of here. I’m sorry, maybe we’ll be in touch.”

The man is up quick brushing past me and heads for the backdoor so no one sees him exit from the front -- maybe that’s how the bar got it’s name.

Ransom isn’t talking to me. He lays a $50 on the table and gets up to walk toward the same back exit his buddy did.

I smelled the liquor on his breath as he brushed past -- but it wasn't about that… it was deeper now. I bust through the backdoor and meet him halfway down the alley way. I grab his shoulder spinning him around to see tears streaming down his face.

“I’ll go back to fucking Canada. Just let me get the shit form your house and I’ll be done and out of your hair just like you want,” he said. “Fuck, I wanted to tell you… but I knew… I knew how this would turn out.”

Ransom hauls his arm back and cracks his fist into the raw brick wall -- skinning his knuckles and bloodying them all to hell. He did it again -- sobbing -- a man over six feet broken down. I grab his arm before he can break his hand completely.

“No one wants a fucking queer as a bodyguard, no dude wants to be opposite the ring of a gay man.”

I just grabbed him. I pulled him close and held him as he cried and collapsed to his knees. I knew Ransom’s past. Where he grew up -- it was more accepted to be an addict then it was to be gay. It all made sense on why he couldn’t go home to the wife and kids -- he wasn’t the same person… and I was part of the reason he found himself… now I was making him feel rejected because I didn’t want him coming to the ring with me. I could never reject him now -- I like to think the world is above this now.

“It’s okay, I don’t care. I didn’t understand how me not letting you in, how me not letting you achieve your potential was affecting you. You don’t need to hide from me.”

I loaded Ransom into a cab, took him home, ran him a shower and made sure he got to sleep on the couch.

I retired to my room where I sat at a computer desk in a large leather chair. I turn on the MacBook in front of me to once again address the fans. I push back so the webcam gets a good shot shoulders up.

“No one reached out after Chaos last week asking if I was okay Hawke. I’m not saying that to highlight the small amount of friends I have. I know what happened counts has a notch in your belt and not mine. I know that forever you will be able to rub in my face… you beat me. Even if it was because of my own actions… but see like I said earlier today… I got what I wanted. The little fish took the bait and after our I Quit match at Act of Defiance people are going to look back at is as one of the most brutal matches in Carnage history. You thought lawyers shutting down Havoc was a big deal... the whole company might get sued into bankruptcy after what I do to you.”

I laugh to myself pulling the pack of Marlboros up off the computer desk and spinning it around between two fingers casually.

“I said it before and I’ll say it again Sebastian, the champion makes the championship… not the other way around and I am willing to give it a good home. I even saw the Carnage World Champion chime in and wish you luck. You know the bullshit he spouts about rising all ships. We will see if he sings to the same tune when I take this Chaos Championship and it reflects the spotlight directly into his eyes, and when he rubs them…. Comes too… just like you Sebastian he’ll see me as the undeniable face of Carnage.”

I pull a single cigarette from the pack and toss it back down on the table.

“You dug your own grave. Not giving up is what I do best. You’ll have to lob off a couple limbs, empale me and tie me down with my own fucking entrials if there is going to be a hope in hell of me uttering those words. If there is on fact that is undeniable -- it’s when the nuclear war hits the only thing left standing will be cockroaches, Twinkies… and Casanova English.”

I put the cigarette between my lips -- but continue talking.

“Last time we were in the ring I showed you what a main event really feels like. I get it, you are just out here trying to get your name in lights, trying to feel the heat of the spotlight… because then you can say mommy and daddy were wrong when they told you being a pro wrestler was a waste of time. I get it… you might have the money fight now, you might have the whole world watching… but if you can’t beat me… it’s all back to square one. Enjoy your 15 minutes of fame… because Sebastian… when I am done with you I’m not backtracking. People are going to understand that bell saved you on Chaos. I did you a favour… but at Act of Defiance… when I lock in the Silence of the Lamb… the only way I am letting go is if you squeak out those words… or go limp.”

I light my cigarette and close the laptop down abruptly.

We bullshit ourselves every single day. We act like we're fighting for a promotion, relevance, trophies and world championships.

Hawke wants to be noticed as great. I want to open people’s minds -- enlighten them.

Voodoo, she just wants to be free to practice what she believes.

Truth is, just like Ransom, in some way shape or form, what we’re really battling for -- really killing ourselves for -- is acceptance.