Post by JaceParkerDavidson on Feb 1, 2023 4:31:32 GMT -5
THE NEW BEGINNING
November of 2016.
I was riding pretty damn high in my career as a professional wrestler. I had Championship gold around my waist and shoulder. I was walking into a clusterfuck of a match that included a three-story steel structure. One of my titles was on the line in the match, however, if I won that match. I would be the number one contender for the World Championship belt heading into the final PPV of 2016.
I was the odds-on favorite to win.
Not just by the fans. Not just by the people who were involved in the match and the company. But by the World Champion himself. The match hadn’t even happened yet, and the World Champion was acting like facing me at the next PPV was a forgone conclusion.
I was well on my way to cementing my legacy in one of the most controversial yet toughest companies on the map. The rocket was strapped to my back, and I had the moon in my sights. I had it in the fucking bag…
Until it, all came crashing down, LITERALLY.
The match was underway, the crowd was hot, and things were looking good. I was faced with friends, foes, and even my wife at the time. But none of that mattered because I had my eyes on the prize. I could taste that main event match for the World Championship belt at the next PPV.
I made it up to the second story of that structure. I surveyed what was happening on the levels above me and below me. Sadly, I only own two eyeballs and that’s not enough to keep track of ten different people.
One of the ten people managed to sneak up behind me and my wife. A man that the two of us had beaten like a fucking drum for YEARS effortlessly. A man that we humiliated once in the center of the ring on live television by shoving my wife’s tampon… that she had inserted at the moment… down his throat.
To say this person was a non-factor isn’t a big enough understatement.
His unimpressive nature paid off in spades for him because it allowed him to shove both me and my wife off of that steel structure.
We were about 20 feet in the air and the fall felt like time itself had stopped.
I remembered looking down trying to figure out where and how I would land. I wasn’t factoring in the impact, the pain, or anything else. I was calculating how long it would take me to get back up that structure to kick that motherfucker’s ass and claim what was rightfully mine.
Until I heard her scream.
All concern about the match flew out of the fucking window at that moment. My mind switched from personal glory to my wife’s well-being.
How would she land?
How badly would it hurt her?
Would she be injured?
My mind was racing but the closer we got to the arena floor, I decided to do the only thing that I could do. I wrapped my arms around her tightly then turned in mid-air to take the full brunt of the fall myself, to keep her unharmed.
We crashed through the announcer's table below hard, and the crowd gasped in fear. Paramedics rushed down to ringside to attend to us but that effectively put us, mostly me, out of the final decision in the match.
I was angry, I was mad, and I was disappointed that my chance, along with one of my titles, slipped right through my fingers.
Fast forward to one week later when the next show happened.
I could have taken time off to lick my wounds. Rest up and regroup. But I was young and thought I was invincible. So, when the man that pushed us off of the steel structure and cost me my title, along with my World Championship match at the PPV, was offered up to me in a singles match. I jumped at the opportunity.
Of course, I did.
I walked into that match, and I got my revenge… or so I thought.
I pinned him and got my hand raised in victory. But the next few days I noticed that something wasn’t right. I was losing feeling in my extremities, and I was in constant pain. I got myself checked out and that’s when I received the news.
I had broken my neck in that fall from the structure and needed major surgery. Career-ending surgery.
In an instant, everything that I had wanted ever in my life was snatched away from me and there was nothing I could do about it. Before that final PPV of 2016, I broke the news and handed over my other Championship belt to my wife to defend for me. I said I needed time… but it was much more than just that.
She lost the match, lost the title, and finally, I had to accept reality.
I had to retire from professional wrestling.
I should have been happy, or at least content. I had a large home in Miami. I had a beautiful wife. Enough money to live comfortably and it turned out that she was pregnant.
Things wouldn’t be so bad.
Only… they ended up much, much worse.
I was in pain 24/7. I had no desire to do anything at all without professional wrestling in my life. That was a void in my soul and the only thing that even slightly filled it was a mixture of painkillers and alcohol.
I was a broken man both physically and mentally.
Life with my wife got worse too. She became cold and uncaring. Acted offended that I decided to retire without ‘consulting’ her about it.
What the fuck did she expect me to do?
“Honey, is it okay if I retire and do not kill myself trying to wrestle? Pretty, please?”
Fuck off.
The woman I had saved from breaking her neck. The reason I had to retire in the first place was blamed on ME of all people.
She was also mad that I wasn’t spending time on Twitter gushing over how much I loved her and our unborn child. That led to several arguments but here’s the kicker.
The bitch cheated on me, and it turned out the kid wasn’t even mine.
How’s that for a kick in the fucking balls?
So, there I was… injured, broken, miserable, and divorced.
I hated everyone and everything, including myself. I had truly hit rock bottom. It took years of eating shit from the universe before I found someone that actually cared about me enough to deal with my miserable ass and constantly encouraged me to change my fate.
So, I went to work.
Fueled by hatred and spite and I fought like hell. I struggled every single fucking day but finally, in April of 2021, I made my return to professional wrestling.
I was standing at the doors of my new beginning, and you best believe that I kicked those motherfucking doors down.
-----
THE MIDDLE
The moment I stepped inside that arena in April of 2021 I started to have doubts about making my return.
The thoughts of if this was the wisest decision possible for me and my long-term well-being flooded my mind. Would I still be able to compete at a high level? What if I ended up just embarrassing myself and tarnishing the legacy that I had left behind?
And even though all of those fears were prominent in my mind, the thought of not going through with it was even worse. Having to sit back for the rest of my life wondering ‘what if’ would have driven me to the crazy house.
So, I put on my big boy pants and came out swinging. And I was bad, really bad, at first but I got better. Not only did I get back to the level I was at before my injury, but I also exceeded it. I was indeed back, and I was fucking better than ever.
Naturally, my colleagues didn’t see it that same way.
All I heard was ‘JPD isn’t as good as he used to be.’ Or ‘JPD is washed-up.’ And my personal favorite ‘JPD loves Twitter whores.’
Like… am I supposed to be offended by that?
It’s the 21st century and we’re shaming a straight man for being interested in attractive, horny women? Tell me you have no idea how to come at a superior wrestler without telling me you have no idea how to come at a superior wrestler.
But I digress.
By July of 2021, I had captured Championship gold and then became a fucking workhorse. So much so that I became the Wrestler of the Year in that company. I walked into 2022 and not only did I win more Championship gold, but I did it in two separate companies. I wrestled two title matches, in one night, in two separate states, for two different companies. I won the LSD Championship belt in one and then hauled ass to the next match. One where I was only defeated by my opponent who had the assistance of one-quarter of the entire roster to help him. They knew I had wrestled a no-rules ladder match before. They knew I had traveled hundreds of miles. And yet it took a bunch of them to even keep my shoulders down for three seconds. And when it happened?
They celebrated as if they had just won the Super Bowl.
It was at that exact moment that I knew the name Jace Parker Davidson meant something in this business.
Fear.
Respect.
And having to bring your absolute best to even survive.
My return to professional wrestling was an overwhelming success. I got inducted into the Hall of Fame in one company and ended 2022 as a Triple Champion. A feat I accomplished by defeating four other men in a Falls Count Anywhere match for one title then teaming with one of the four men I beat immediately after to retain another title.
Now here we are in 2023.
I’m a part of the Uprising roster. Two companies at once again. I have a successful business and I own an LFL team in Denver.
The Denzel Porter Invitational is right around the corner but at Revolution 4 from The Silver State Ballroom in Reno, Nevada. I face you, Justin York.
The Casino Kid vs. The King of Everything.
I’d wish you good luck but… NAHHHHH!
Fuck you, your milk in a bag, your maple syrup-intoxicated brain, along with the horse and the Mountie you rode in on, bitch.
-----
YOUR END
The sound of inaudible mutterings and musing can be heard as we fade into an unknown location. It’s hard to tell what is going on or where the jumbled noise is coming from. There seem to be multiple conversations happening all at once. The one thing that becomes clear about what we are witnessing is that smoke fills the entire area. It hangs thick and heavy in the air as it seems like whoever these people are, certainly are enjoying the fact that they are fast-forwarding their way to lung cancer.
The smoke starts to thin a little bit and we can see this to be some kind of room where a bright light hangs above over the proceeding. A large round table can be made out through the thick covering of smoke where playing cards can be seen spread out along with Poker chips. The voices all continue to speak and collide with each other like a trainwreck. A random smattering of indescribable hands darts in and out of camera range as chips are placed and soon after gathered back from a pile in the middle of the table.
The smoke gives way a little more to show one of the people seated at the table. That person is none other than one of the newest signees to Uprising Jace Parker Davidson. All of the surroundings outside of Jace’s body and the table in front of him are an absolute blur. The King of Everything has a lit cigar in his mouth and can be seen with a grin on his face as looks around the table before tossing a few Poker chips into the center pile.
“Well, it’s been an interesting week or so since Frozen Fury, huh?” The words caused Jace and whoever else was at the table to burst out into a fit of laughter.
“I could say I told you so but then again… what good would that do?” Jace looked around the table curiously before focusing forward. “It would do a hell of a lot of good. I fucking told you so. I told every single one of you that at Frozen Fury I was going to place my footprint on the foundation of this company. I don’t think it far-fetched to say, ‘Mission Fucking Accomplished’ on that note.”
Jace takes a moment to look down at the cards in his hand but manages not to give away how good or bad it is by his facial expression.
“I walked into this company and in my very first match, I took on a former Uprising World Champion. I took on a person that was a main eventer in their mind. Someone that thought that they should have been handed a rematch for the title at Frozen Fury instead of facing the lowly Jace Parker Davidson.” The sarcasm in his voice was obvious. “Someone that saw me as nothing more than a steppingstone on their way back to the top. Back to having more gold around their waist. Someone, who quite frankly, got bored of listening to me talk about my match against them.”
There is some indescribable grumbling from the other members of the table.
“And I took them DOWN.” Jace slams his free hand onto the table with emphasis. “One boot to the back of the head. One stomp that almost drove Molly Hatchet’s skull through the canvas and then three seconds later. Jace Parker Davidson put his name on the Uprising map. I made the great and mighty five-foot three-inch ‘monster’ BEND THE KNEE and pay homage to the King of Everything in front of a worldwide audience. My hand was raised in victory and Little Miss Molly had to be scooped up off of the canvas using a mop.”
Jace gestures like he’s mopping the floor beneath him before placing his cards on the table. It’s a hand that he didn’t win but he leans back in his seat and continues.
“I did that. Just like I said I would because I am a man of my word. But that was Frozen Fury, this is Revolution 4 and I have a match against Justin York.” Jace lowers his head a bit and takes a moment to think about his opponent. “Now I know all of you out there are going to hear the same old song and dance from Mr. York. About how he’s SUCH a star that he can walk right into Uprising and get headline matches back-to-back shows. That he’s SUCH a goddamn draw that people like me were beating down his door trying to get him to agree to have a match on his grand retirement tour.”
“And you honestly believe that nonsense?” The very familiar voice of Samantha Tolson cuts through the other noise at the table.
“Grain of salt, babe, grain of salt.” Jace reached out and placed his hand over hers. “I’ll be the first to admit I brought into the hype behind a Justin York retirement tour. The guy does a good job of talking himself up and from a few interactions via Twitter, he seemed to want to write checks with his mouth that his ass might not be able to cash. So, I wanted to step up to the plate and shut his dumb ass up. But before I get into all of that. Let’s take a moment to reflect on how Frozen Fury went for Justin York, shall we?”
Jace looked around the table once again and everyone fell silent for a few moments. The cards were being dealt out on the table before Jace spoke up.
“Justin York walked into Uprising and got himself booked into a match against the only two-time Uprising World Champion Griffin Hawkins. Former World Champion and a man on his way to ride off into the sunset. Seems interesting enough, right?” Jace raised his hands out towards everyone at the table waiting for an answer. “I mean, I thought this would have been a Match of the Year candidate. I thought this would be a match that people would be talking about for decades to come. I hope none of you bet money on those things happening.”
More laughter from the table.
“The match was lackluster at best. Call me biased, but I feel like my match against Molly was more hard-hitting than that so-called main event was. Why do I say that? Look back at the match itself.” Jace picks his cards up off of the table and looks at them. “York comes out first with his wife and then Griffin has his own ‘special boy’ entrance. Some band that I don’t even care to remember came out and played Mr. Hawkins out to the ring.”
“Wait a minute.” The voice of Abdullah Choi interrupts Jace. “Isn’t Griffin Hawkins a rockstar? Isn’t this guy’s whole personality that he has a band of his own and he’s some living, breathing tribute to 80’s music?”
“That is indeed true. So, I ask myself…” Jace’s voice trails off a minute before he keeps the ball rolling. “Why would a man with his band and his music need another band to play him out to the ring? If I had a band of my own and I made music… I would want to sing my theme music and walk into a sold-out arena all the time hearing the crowd sing my song. Or maybe I’m just crazy?”
“Not crazy.” Yulia Kozlova’s voice said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“But that happened. And to make matters worse. Justin York just sat there in the ring and watched. Like the entire thing, the entire freaking song. He didn’t lift a goddamn finger to stop Griffin Hawkins from acting like a 14-year-old girl at her first live boy band concert. Can you say missed opportunity? Not something I would have done but that’s just me.” Jace shrugs his shoulders as tosses two chips into the pile. “These guys played up this whole ‘we’re decent human beings who respect each other’ act. Ugh, how boring. Or rather that was until York was on the outside of the ring being checked on by his wife.”
“Do tell.” The voice of one of the Denver Dimes players, Samantha Skylar, calls out. “What happened next?”
“Well, by golly, old good guy Griffin Hawkins decided to dive right out of the ring. Directly at York even though York’s wife was right there in the line of fire, with no regard.” Jace stated in a hushed tone.
There is a collective gasp of shock at the table.
“Not good guy Griffin Hawkins!” The voice of the Denver Dimes head coach, Devin Skylar cries out.
“I know, who knew that Griffin Hawkins was full of shit and used dirty tactics? I sure didn’t!” Jace shakes his head vehemently. “Thankfully, York managed to shove his wife out of the way. But boy howdy, you’d think that would have lit a fire under York’s ass. That the fact that Mr. Hawkins would stoop to such a level would awaken something deep down inside Justin York. But nope, Griffin hit his little cupcake move off of the top rope and got the win.”
Everyone at the table begins to boo out loud.
“Such a devastating move that York popped up mere moments after it and had enough left in him to not only shake Griffin’s hand but to unleash the worst-kept secret of 2023. That Justin York is a douchebag. York hits Griffin with the life-altering SPINNING HEEL KICK!”
“He should add the words ‘of Doom’ to the end of that just so we know just how damaging of a kick it was!” Choi added.
“I mean it took Griffin down and out and then York did what he does best and that’s talk about himself. He reveals he didn’t care about or respect Griffin Hawkins. Surprise, surprise. But then he goes on about the DPI and Thaddeus Duke. And then before you know it, Thad and Sahara show up in Chicago!”
Everyone begins to cheer but it’s an awkward cheer like they aren’t sure if they are supposed to be happy about that fact or not.
“Then it got really weird because Thad dressed down Mr. York and there was talk about doggy style or something like that. Honestly, Justin should have called for an adult at that point. But that was the most memorable thing about that entire match. The fact that Thad and Sahara made an appearance. Oh, and that SPINNING HEEL KICK of Doom was so effective that not only did Griffin walk away under his power, but he came out in the very next segment along with some other people. Then Griffin and Molly tried to suck the spotlight away from The One Percent like a couple of crackwhores at a truck stop.”
Jace tosses his card down then once again everything is reset, and the cards start getting dealt out again.
“This is the man I am facing in Reno. The guy that I’m supposed to care about and claims he’s going to embarrass me in the ring. The entire experience left me with blue balls, honestly, Justin.”
Samantha Tolson cuts her eyes over at Jace.
“Figuratively speaking, of course.” Jace smirks and then focuses back on his opponent. “I was excited to face you, I was excited to disrupt your grand retirement tour on your way to facing Thaddeus Duke at the DPI 2. I was excited to smack you around but now I just feel sorry for you. I realize you aren’t this big-time star with a legendary legacy. You’re just some schmuck from Canada that has the nerve to call himself a ‘Casino Kid’ at 37 years old. You’re a guy that talked himself into big-boy status with no substance behind it at all. Beating you in a normal wrestling match does nothing for me because you lost to Griffin Hawkins in a normal wrestling match. Why the fuck would I ever want to copy something Griffin Hawkins just did on the previous show?!”
Everyone at the table begins to complain loudly but Jace just looks smug as he continues to puff at the cigar in his mouth.
“I simply wouldn’t, and it would be a waste of my time. No one knows nor cares what titles you’ve won or what big name, in your mind, you’ve beaten. It’s about what have you done for us lately and lately? I’ve lost to the guy that lost the Uprising World Championship to the woman that I beat. Lately, you’ve organized a so-called retirement tour even though you’re actively looking to get in as many matches as possible even now. Lately, you’ve done nothing but try to put your name among the stars by hosting your little tournament. Fuck knows, if you put as much effort into your wrestling skill as you did all your other ‘ventures’ then maybe I’d be a little worried.”
Jace reaches up and takes the cigar out of his mouth with his free hand.
“You talk about how you had a career-threatening injury and how you looked damn good in defeat for someone that hadn’t been in the ring for six months. Really, motherfucker? Six months? That’s not a career-threatening injury. That’s a Griffin Hawkins vacation because big-boy wrestling responsibilities are too stressful. I had a career-threatening injury. Five full years were taken off of my career in an instant. Five fucking years I fought to get to the point where I was allowed to climb between the ropes again to compete. This is no retirement tour. This is you getting the rub from proven talent to only make another ‘comeback’ by this summer. You’re a fraud Justin York, a conman that has weaseled his way into relevance on the back of active talent in this business. I’ll piggyback you to an actual five-star match at Revolution just this once but don’t for a fucking moment think you’re calling the shots here.”
Jace knocks the ashes from the cigar into a glass ashtray before picking up his cards.
“That means Mr. York that I just didn’t sit here with my thumb up my ass and waited for you to lead the way like some goddamn Jukebox sheep. I used my connections with Jax to make sure this match was right up your alley. I made sure that our match was a ladder match. That’s right, that means that you don’t have to out-wrestle me. You don’t have to find a way to pin me. All you have to fucking do is climb a ladder faster than I do. That should be easy enough, correct? You’re smaller and quicker than I am. By all accounts, I just put myself against the 8 ball with this stipulation. That is what you’ll undoubtedly see. That’s what all the sheep on the roster will see. All the idiots in the stands with their Hatchet t-shirts and their toy guitars will eat that fact up but allow me to tell you the reality of your situation.”
Jace tosses a few chips into the pile then places the cigar back into his mouth.
“The reality is that I’ve lured you into a false sense of security and overconfidence. I’ve made you think that this will be an easy win and you can cruise into the DPI 2 and focus on Thad. The truth is I just took the handcuffs off of myself. I had to play by the rules against Molly and with one stomp I managed to make the hamster wheel between her ears burst into flames. One stomp caused the guy that YOU COULDN’T BEAT to ask for time away to reconsider his life’s decisions. But with the shackles off? The possibilities of fucking you up are endless. I’m going to sit back here and enjoy this cigar. I’m going to smoke on that Molly Hatchet pack as long as my days in Uprising last. But come the Revolution? I’m going to hurt you, boy. I’m going to make you bleed and I'm going to break your bones.”
Jace shovels more chips into the pile.
“I’m going to put my first-ever Uprising win streak on the line. I’m going to put my neck and my health on the line before having to face Jason Cashe at the DPI 2. I’m going to let it all ride and all you have to do to cash in on this jackpot is reach up and grab the chip.”
Jace reaches down then takes an oversized Poker chip and places it in the center of the table.
“You like casinos? Do you think your hot shit? Good, because when it’s all said and done, Justin York. I’m going to show you what it REALLY feels like to have a career-ending injury. I’m going to make Griffin’s little girly dive from the top look like a fucking pillow fight. And when the dust settles. When I’m at the top of that ladder looking down at your broken carcass on the canvas. You’ll realize that Jace Parker Davidson isn’t the one to play with. You’ll realize that, unlike Griffin and Thaddeus. I am not the one to step between those ropes without thinking this is some fucking game. The last act you do as a professional wrestler will be to KNEEL before me.”
Jace lays his cards down on the table to show a Royal Flush.
“With one swollen shut eye and tears streaming out of the other one. You’ll look up at me. You’ll acknowledge me as the superior wrestler, the superior fighter, and you’ll BEG me to let you limp your way out of Uprising so that you can face Thaddeus. You’ll plead for MERCY from me, hoping that I’ll allow your pathetic excuse of a career to see one more day.”
Jace narrows his eyes.
“Unfortunately for you, I am not a merciful King. I am no one’s steppingstone or warm-up, and I don’t do charity. I’m not in this to make YOU look good on your way out the door. The boot that ended Molly, the boot that made Griffin run home crying to mommy, is the same boot that will make you BEND THE KNEE. This isn’t your story, you’re not the main character here. You’re a lonely footnote in the legacy that is Jace Parker Davidson. Enjoy these final pages of your career, Mr. York.”
“Saturday night you step into the ring with me.”
“And I am YOUR END.”
Jace reaches his arms out wide and pulls all of his winnings towards his side of the table as the view goes to static.
November of 2016.
I was riding pretty damn high in my career as a professional wrestler. I had Championship gold around my waist and shoulder. I was walking into a clusterfuck of a match that included a three-story steel structure. One of my titles was on the line in the match, however, if I won that match. I would be the number one contender for the World Championship belt heading into the final PPV of 2016.
I was the odds-on favorite to win.
Not just by the fans. Not just by the people who were involved in the match and the company. But by the World Champion himself. The match hadn’t even happened yet, and the World Champion was acting like facing me at the next PPV was a forgone conclusion.
I was well on my way to cementing my legacy in one of the most controversial yet toughest companies on the map. The rocket was strapped to my back, and I had the moon in my sights. I had it in the fucking bag…
Until it, all came crashing down, LITERALLY.
The match was underway, the crowd was hot, and things were looking good. I was faced with friends, foes, and even my wife at the time. But none of that mattered because I had my eyes on the prize. I could taste that main event match for the World Championship belt at the next PPV.
I made it up to the second story of that structure. I surveyed what was happening on the levels above me and below me. Sadly, I only own two eyeballs and that’s not enough to keep track of ten different people.
One of the ten people managed to sneak up behind me and my wife. A man that the two of us had beaten like a fucking drum for YEARS effortlessly. A man that we humiliated once in the center of the ring on live television by shoving my wife’s tampon… that she had inserted at the moment… down his throat.
To say this person was a non-factor isn’t a big enough understatement.
His unimpressive nature paid off in spades for him because it allowed him to shove both me and my wife off of that steel structure.
We were about 20 feet in the air and the fall felt like time itself had stopped.
I remembered looking down trying to figure out where and how I would land. I wasn’t factoring in the impact, the pain, or anything else. I was calculating how long it would take me to get back up that structure to kick that motherfucker’s ass and claim what was rightfully mine.
Until I heard her scream.
All concern about the match flew out of the fucking window at that moment. My mind switched from personal glory to my wife’s well-being.
How would she land?
How badly would it hurt her?
Would she be injured?
My mind was racing but the closer we got to the arena floor, I decided to do the only thing that I could do. I wrapped my arms around her tightly then turned in mid-air to take the full brunt of the fall myself, to keep her unharmed.
We crashed through the announcer's table below hard, and the crowd gasped in fear. Paramedics rushed down to ringside to attend to us but that effectively put us, mostly me, out of the final decision in the match.
I was angry, I was mad, and I was disappointed that my chance, along with one of my titles, slipped right through my fingers.
Fast forward to one week later when the next show happened.
I could have taken time off to lick my wounds. Rest up and regroup. But I was young and thought I was invincible. So, when the man that pushed us off of the steel structure and cost me my title, along with my World Championship match at the PPV, was offered up to me in a singles match. I jumped at the opportunity.
Of course, I did.
I walked into that match, and I got my revenge… or so I thought.
I pinned him and got my hand raised in victory. But the next few days I noticed that something wasn’t right. I was losing feeling in my extremities, and I was in constant pain. I got myself checked out and that’s when I received the news.
I had broken my neck in that fall from the structure and needed major surgery. Career-ending surgery.
In an instant, everything that I had wanted ever in my life was snatched away from me and there was nothing I could do about it. Before that final PPV of 2016, I broke the news and handed over my other Championship belt to my wife to defend for me. I said I needed time… but it was much more than just that.
She lost the match, lost the title, and finally, I had to accept reality.
I had to retire from professional wrestling.
I should have been happy, or at least content. I had a large home in Miami. I had a beautiful wife. Enough money to live comfortably and it turned out that she was pregnant.
Things wouldn’t be so bad.
Only… they ended up much, much worse.
I was in pain 24/7. I had no desire to do anything at all without professional wrestling in my life. That was a void in my soul and the only thing that even slightly filled it was a mixture of painkillers and alcohol.
I was a broken man both physically and mentally.
Life with my wife got worse too. She became cold and uncaring. Acted offended that I decided to retire without ‘consulting’ her about it.
What the fuck did she expect me to do?
“Honey, is it okay if I retire and do not kill myself trying to wrestle? Pretty, please?”
Fuck off.
The woman I had saved from breaking her neck. The reason I had to retire in the first place was blamed on ME of all people.
She was also mad that I wasn’t spending time on Twitter gushing over how much I loved her and our unborn child. That led to several arguments but here’s the kicker.
The bitch cheated on me, and it turned out the kid wasn’t even mine.
How’s that for a kick in the fucking balls?
So, there I was… injured, broken, miserable, and divorced.
I hated everyone and everything, including myself. I had truly hit rock bottom. It took years of eating shit from the universe before I found someone that actually cared about me enough to deal with my miserable ass and constantly encouraged me to change my fate.
So, I went to work.
Fueled by hatred and spite and I fought like hell. I struggled every single fucking day but finally, in April of 2021, I made my return to professional wrestling.
I was standing at the doors of my new beginning, and you best believe that I kicked those motherfucking doors down.
-----
THE MIDDLE
The moment I stepped inside that arena in April of 2021 I started to have doubts about making my return.
The thoughts of if this was the wisest decision possible for me and my long-term well-being flooded my mind. Would I still be able to compete at a high level? What if I ended up just embarrassing myself and tarnishing the legacy that I had left behind?
And even though all of those fears were prominent in my mind, the thought of not going through with it was even worse. Having to sit back for the rest of my life wondering ‘what if’ would have driven me to the crazy house.
So, I put on my big boy pants and came out swinging. And I was bad, really bad, at first but I got better. Not only did I get back to the level I was at before my injury, but I also exceeded it. I was indeed back, and I was fucking better than ever.
Naturally, my colleagues didn’t see it that same way.
All I heard was ‘JPD isn’t as good as he used to be.’ Or ‘JPD is washed-up.’ And my personal favorite ‘JPD loves Twitter whores.’
Like… am I supposed to be offended by that?
It’s the 21st century and we’re shaming a straight man for being interested in attractive, horny women? Tell me you have no idea how to come at a superior wrestler without telling me you have no idea how to come at a superior wrestler.
But I digress.
By July of 2021, I had captured Championship gold and then became a fucking workhorse. So much so that I became the Wrestler of the Year in that company. I walked into 2022 and not only did I win more Championship gold, but I did it in two separate companies. I wrestled two title matches, in one night, in two separate states, for two different companies. I won the LSD Championship belt in one and then hauled ass to the next match. One where I was only defeated by my opponent who had the assistance of one-quarter of the entire roster to help him. They knew I had wrestled a no-rules ladder match before. They knew I had traveled hundreds of miles. And yet it took a bunch of them to even keep my shoulders down for three seconds. And when it happened?
They celebrated as if they had just won the Super Bowl.
It was at that exact moment that I knew the name Jace Parker Davidson meant something in this business.
Fear.
Respect.
And having to bring your absolute best to even survive.
My return to professional wrestling was an overwhelming success. I got inducted into the Hall of Fame in one company and ended 2022 as a Triple Champion. A feat I accomplished by defeating four other men in a Falls Count Anywhere match for one title then teaming with one of the four men I beat immediately after to retain another title.
Now here we are in 2023.
I’m a part of the Uprising roster. Two companies at once again. I have a successful business and I own an LFL team in Denver.
The Denzel Porter Invitational is right around the corner but at Revolution 4 from The Silver State Ballroom in Reno, Nevada. I face you, Justin York.
The Casino Kid vs. The King of Everything.
I’d wish you good luck but… NAHHHHH!
Fuck you, your milk in a bag, your maple syrup-intoxicated brain, along with the horse and the Mountie you rode in on, bitch.
-----
YOUR END
The sound of inaudible mutterings and musing can be heard as we fade into an unknown location. It’s hard to tell what is going on or where the jumbled noise is coming from. There seem to be multiple conversations happening all at once. The one thing that becomes clear about what we are witnessing is that smoke fills the entire area. It hangs thick and heavy in the air as it seems like whoever these people are, certainly are enjoying the fact that they are fast-forwarding their way to lung cancer.
The smoke starts to thin a little bit and we can see this to be some kind of room where a bright light hangs above over the proceeding. A large round table can be made out through the thick covering of smoke where playing cards can be seen spread out along with Poker chips. The voices all continue to speak and collide with each other like a trainwreck. A random smattering of indescribable hands darts in and out of camera range as chips are placed and soon after gathered back from a pile in the middle of the table.
The smoke gives way a little more to show one of the people seated at the table. That person is none other than one of the newest signees to Uprising Jace Parker Davidson. All of the surroundings outside of Jace’s body and the table in front of him are an absolute blur. The King of Everything has a lit cigar in his mouth and can be seen with a grin on his face as looks around the table before tossing a few Poker chips into the center pile.
“Well, it’s been an interesting week or so since Frozen Fury, huh?” The words caused Jace and whoever else was at the table to burst out into a fit of laughter.
“I could say I told you so but then again… what good would that do?” Jace looked around the table curiously before focusing forward. “It would do a hell of a lot of good. I fucking told you so. I told every single one of you that at Frozen Fury I was going to place my footprint on the foundation of this company. I don’t think it far-fetched to say, ‘Mission Fucking Accomplished’ on that note.”
Jace takes a moment to look down at the cards in his hand but manages not to give away how good or bad it is by his facial expression.
“I walked into this company and in my very first match, I took on a former Uprising World Champion. I took on a person that was a main eventer in their mind. Someone that thought that they should have been handed a rematch for the title at Frozen Fury instead of facing the lowly Jace Parker Davidson.” The sarcasm in his voice was obvious. “Someone that saw me as nothing more than a steppingstone on their way back to the top. Back to having more gold around their waist. Someone, who quite frankly, got bored of listening to me talk about my match against them.”
There is some indescribable grumbling from the other members of the table.
“And I took them DOWN.” Jace slams his free hand onto the table with emphasis. “One boot to the back of the head. One stomp that almost drove Molly Hatchet’s skull through the canvas and then three seconds later. Jace Parker Davidson put his name on the Uprising map. I made the great and mighty five-foot three-inch ‘monster’ BEND THE KNEE and pay homage to the King of Everything in front of a worldwide audience. My hand was raised in victory and Little Miss Molly had to be scooped up off of the canvas using a mop.”
Jace gestures like he’s mopping the floor beneath him before placing his cards on the table. It’s a hand that he didn’t win but he leans back in his seat and continues.
“I did that. Just like I said I would because I am a man of my word. But that was Frozen Fury, this is Revolution 4 and I have a match against Justin York.” Jace lowers his head a bit and takes a moment to think about his opponent. “Now I know all of you out there are going to hear the same old song and dance from Mr. York. About how he’s SUCH a star that he can walk right into Uprising and get headline matches back-to-back shows. That he’s SUCH a goddamn draw that people like me were beating down his door trying to get him to agree to have a match on his grand retirement tour.”
“And you honestly believe that nonsense?” The very familiar voice of Samantha Tolson cuts through the other noise at the table.
“Grain of salt, babe, grain of salt.” Jace reached out and placed his hand over hers. “I’ll be the first to admit I brought into the hype behind a Justin York retirement tour. The guy does a good job of talking himself up and from a few interactions via Twitter, he seemed to want to write checks with his mouth that his ass might not be able to cash. So, I wanted to step up to the plate and shut his dumb ass up. But before I get into all of that. Let’s take a moment to reflect on how Frozen Fury went for Justin York, shall we?”
Jace looked around the table once again and everyone fell silent for a few moments. The cards were being dealt out on the table before Jace spoke up.
“Justin York walked into Uprising and got himself booked into a match against the only two-time Uprising World Champion Griffin Hawkins. Former World Champion and a man on his way to ride off into the sunset. Seems interesting enough, right?” Jace raised his hands out towards everyone at the table waiting for an answer. “I mean, I thought this would have been a Match of the Year candidate. I thought this would be a match that people would be talking about for decades to come. I hope none of you bet money on those things happening.”
More laughter from the table.
“The match was lackluster at best. Call me biased, but I feel like my match against Molly was more hard-hitting than that so-called main event was. Why do I say that? Look back at the match itself.” Jace picks his cards up off of the table and looks at them. “York comes out first with his wife and then Griffin has his own ‘special boy’ entrance. Some band that I don’t even care to remember came out and played Mr. Hawkins out to the ring.”
“Wait a minute.” The voice of Abdullah Choi interrupts Jace. “Isn’t Griffin Hawkins a rockstar? Isn’t this guy’s whole personality that he has a band of his own and he’s some living, breathing tribute to 80’s music?”
“That is indeed true. So, I ask myself…” Jace’s voice trails off a minute before he keeps the ball rolling. “Why would a man with his band and his music need another band to play him out to the ring? If I had a band of my own and I made music… I would want to sing my theme music and walk into a sold-out arena all the time hearing the crowd sing my song. Or maybe I’m just crazy?”
“Not crazy.” Yulia Kozlova’s voice said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“But that happened. And to make matters worse. Justin York just sat there in the ring and watched. Like the entire thing, the entire freaking song. He didn’t lift a goddamn finger to stop Griffin Hawkins from acting like a 14-year-old girl at her first live boy band concert. Can you say missed opportunity? Not something I would have done but that’s just me.” Jace shrugs his shoulders as tosses two chips into the pile. “These guys played up this whole ‘we’re decent human beings who respect each other’ act. Ugh, how boring. Or rather that was until York was on the outside of the ring being checked on by his wife.”
“Do tell.” The voice of one of the Denver Dimes players, Samantha Skylar, calls out. “What happened next?”
“Well, by golly, old good guy Griffin Hawkins decided to dive right out of the ring. Directly at York even though York’s wife was right there in the line of fire, with no regard.” Jace stated in a hushed tone.
There is a collective gasp of shock at the table.
“Not good guy Griffin Hawkins!” The voice of the Denver Dimes head coach, Devin Skylar cries out.
“I know, who knew that Griffin Hawkins was full of shit and used dirty tactics? I sure didn’t!” Jace shakes his head vehemently. “Thankfully, York managed to shove his wife out of the way. But boy howdy, you’d think that would have lit a fire under York’s ass. That the fact that Mr. Hawkins would stoop to such a level would awaken something deep down inside Justin York. But nope, Griffin hit his little cupcake move off of the top rope and got the win.”
Everyone at the table begins to boo out loud.
“Such a devastating move that York popped up mere moments after it and had enough left in him to not only shake Griffin’s hand but to unleash the worst-kept secret of 2023. That Justin York is a douchebag. York hits Griffin with the life-altering SPINNING HEEL KICK!”
“He should add the words ‘of Doom’ to the end of that just so we know just how damaging of a kick it was!” Choi added.
“I mean it took Griffin down and out and then York did what he does best and that’s talk about himself. He reveals he didn’t care about or respect Griffin Hawkins. Surprise, surprise. But then he goes on about the DPI and Thaddeus Duke. And then before you know it, Thad and Sahara show up in Chicago!”
Everyone begins to cheer but it’s an awkward cheer like they aren’t sure if they are supposed to be happy about that fact or not.
“Then it got really weird because Thad dressed down Mr. York and there was talk about doggy style or something like that. Honestly, Justin should have called for an adult at that point. But that was the most memorable thing about that entire match. The fact that Thad and Sahara made an appearance. Oh, and that SPINNING HEEL KICK of Doom was so effective that not only did Griffin walk away under his power, but he came out in the very next segment along with some other people. Then Griffin and Molly tried to suck the spotlight away from The One Percent like a couple of crackwhores at a truck stop.”
Jace tosses his card down then once again everything is reset, and the cards start getting dealt out again.
“This is the man I am facing in Reno. The guy that I’m supposed to care about and claims he’s going to embarrass me in the ring. The entire experience left me with blue balls, honestly, Justin.”
Samantha Tolson cuts her eyes over at Jace.
“Figuratively speaking, of course.” Jace smirks and then focuses back on his opponent. “I was excited to face you, I was excited to disrupt your grand retirement tour on your way to facing Thaddeus Duke at the DPI 2. I was excited to smack you around but now I just feel sorry for you. I realize you aren’t this big-time star with a legendary legacy. You’re just some schmuck from Canada that has the nerve to call himself a ‘Casino Kid’ at 37 years old. You’re a guy that talked himself into big-boy status with no substance behind it at all. Beating you in a normal wrestling match does nothing for me because you lost to Griffin Hawkins in a normal wrestling match. Why the fuck would I ever want to copy something Griffin Hawkins just did on the previous show?!”
Everyone at the table begins to complain loudly but Jace just looks smug as he continues to puff at the cigar in his mouth.
“I simply wouldn’t, and it would be a waste of my time. No one knows nor cares what titles you’ve won or what big name, in your mind, you’ve beaten. It’s about what have you done for us lately and lately? I’ve lost to the guy that lost the Uprising World Championship to the woman that I beat. Lately, you’ve organized a so-called retirement tour even though you’re actively looking to get in as many matches as possible even now. Lately, you’ve done nothing but try to put your name among the stars by hosting your little tournament. Fuck knows, if you put as much effort into your wrestling skill as you did all your other ‘ventures’ then maybe I’d be a little worried.”
Jace reaches up and takes the cigar out of his mouth with his free hand.
“You talk about how you had a career-threatening injury and how you looked damn good in defeat for someone that hadn’t been in the ring for six months. Really, motherfucker? Six months? That’s not a career-threatening injury. That’s a Griffin Hawkins vacation because big-boy wrestling responsibilities are too stressful. I had a career-threatening injury. Five full years were taken off of my career in an instant. Five fucking years I fought to get to the point where I was allowed to climb between the ropes again to compete. This is no retirement tour. This is you getting the rub from proven talent to only make another ‘comeback’ by this summer. You’re a fraud Justin York, a conman that has weaseled his way into relevance on the back of active talent in this business. I’ll piggyback you to an actual five-star match at Revolution just this once but don’t for a fucking moment think you’re calling the shots here.”
Jace knocks the ashes from the cigar into a glass ashtray before picking up his cards.
“That means Mr. York that I just didn’t sit here with my thumb up my ass and waited for you to lead the way like some goddamn Jukebox sheep. I used my connections with Jax to make sure this match was right up your alley. I made sure that our match was a ladder match. That’s right, that means that you don’t have to out-wrestle me. You don’t have to find a way to pin me. All you have to fucking do is climb a ladder faster than I do. That should be easy enough, correct? You’re smaller and quicker than I am. By all accounts, I just put myself against the 8 ball with this stipulation. That is what you’ll undoubtedly see. That’s what all the sheep on the roster will see. All the idiots in the stands with their Hatchet t-shirts and their toy guitars will eat that fact up but allow me to tell you the reality of your situation.”
Jace tosses a few chips into the pile then places the cigar back into his mouth.
“The reality is that I’ve lured you into a false sense of security and overconfidence. I’ve made you think that this will be an easy win and you can cruise into the DPI 2 and focus on Thad. The truth is I just took the handcuffs off of myself. I had to play by the rules against Molly and with one stomp I managed to make the hamster wheel between her ears burst into flames. One stomp caused the guy that YOU COULDN’T BEAT to ask for time away to reconsider his life’s decisions. But with the shackles off? The possibilities of fucking you up are endless. I’m going to sit back here and enjoy this cigar. I’m going to smoke on that Molly Hatchet pack as long as my days in Uprising last. But come the Revolution? I’m going to hurt you, boy. I’m going to make you bleed and I'm going to break your bones.”
Jace shovels more chips into the pile.
“I’m going to put my first-ever Uprising win streak on the line. I’m going to put my neck and my health on the line before having to face Jason Cashe at the DPI 2. I’m going to let it all ride and all you have to do to cash in on this jackpot is reach up and grab the chip.”
Jace reaches down then takes an oversized Poker chip and places it in the center of the table.
“You like casinos? Do you think your hot shit? Good, because when it’s all said and done, Justin York. I’m going to show you what it REALLY feels like to have a career-ending injury. I’m going to make Griffin’s little girly dive from the top look like a fucking pillow fight. And when the dust settles. When I’m at the top of that ladder looking down at your broken carcass on the canvas. You’ll realize that Jace Parker Davidson isn’t the one to play with. You’ll realize that, unlike Griffin and Thaddeus. I am not the one to step between those ropes without thinking this is some fucking game. The last act you do as a professional wrestler will be to KNEEL before me.”
Jace lays his cards down on the table to show a Royal Flush.
“With one swollen shut eye and tears streaming out of the other one. You’ll look up at me. You’ll acknowledge me as the superior wrestler, the superior fighter, and you’ll BEG me to let you limp your way out of Uprising so that you can face Thaddeus. You’ll plead for MERCY from me, hoping that I’ll allow your pathetic excuse of a career to see one more day.”
Jace narrows his eyes.
“Unfortunately for you, I am not a merciful King. I am no one’s steppingstone or warm-up, and I don’t do charity. I’m not in this to make YOU look good on your way out the door. The boot that ended Molly, the boot that made Griffin run home crying to mommy, is the same boot that will make you BEND THE KNEE. This isn’t your story, you’re not the main character here. You’re a lonely footnote in the legacy that is Jace Parker Davidson. Enjoy these final pages of your career, Mr. York.”
“Saturday night you step into the ring with me.”
“And I am YOUR END.”
Jace reaches his arms out wide and pulls all of his winnings towards his side of the table as the view goes to static.