[STEELE] The Hardest Night Part 3 (Ezriel & Barratt)
Oct 24, 2017 18:45:46 GMT -5
Rage (aka NoMercyMaster2001), ForeverKuroi, and 4 more like this
Post by Steele on Oct 24, 2017 18:45:46 GMT -5
[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]
*In just one night, Jackson Steele's world became just that little bit more... hostile. Already a marked man with a target on his back - or more accurately, over his shoulder in the shape of the AWF Heavyweight Championship - he found himself in the sights of two potential usurpers to his throne, "Prodigy" Bobby Barrett, and "The Dark Prophet" Ezriel. Both men granted a championship shot by Felix Ziko, to take place on the final night of the XHF End Of Days Tournament.*
*In just one night, Jackson Steele's world became just that little bit more... hostile. Already a marked man with a target on his back - or more accurately, over his shoulder in the shape of the AWF Heavyweight Championship - he found himself in the sights of two potential usurpers to his throne, "Prodigy" Bobby Barrett, and "The Dark Prophet" Ezriel. Both men granted a championship shot by Felix Ziko, to take place on the final night of the XHF End Of Days Tournament.*
*Only... there was one small snag.*
*Defending his championship is not to be Jackson's only obligation at the EoD PPV. After three hard-fought matches against wrestlers far more experienced than he is, he found luck firmly on his side as he defeated Curtis Kanyon, then Michael Storm, and most recently Scorpion to advance to the tournament final, where he will meet Shogun-Tron.*
*Sunday, October 30, is shaping up to be the hardest night of Jackson's life. Three opponents, two matches. Make or break. He could be leaving Pittsburgh on top of the world, as both AWF Champion and the XHF End Of Days Champion for 2017.*
*He could just as easily be leaving with nothing.*
*With less than one week until the Pay-Per-View we are privileged to be able to catch up with Jackson Steele as he prepares.*
*This is his story.*
JACKSON STEELE: THE HARDEST NIGHT
PART 3: EZRIEL AND BOBBY BARRATT
"CHAIR-MAN OF THE BORED"
"CHAIR-MAN OF THE BORED"
"{uggghhh..... mother...fuuuuuucker.....}"
Jackson Steele blinked rapidly, trying to force his eyes to focus as the world span around him. His vision blurred, and with a high-pitched ringing in his ears, Jackson felt like he had just woken up from a solid forty-eight hours of drinking. Jackson tried to summon the strength to stand but... something was wrong.
As Jackson's pupils adjusted themselves he soon learned that he was already upright- but he was still having trouble getting to his feet.
"Jeeeesuuus Chriiiiist.... how wasted did I let myself get this ti- wait, what the fuck? What the actual fuck?" he stammered. His senses slowly returning to him, he realized that not only was he upright, but he was completely immobilized, as he had been securely duck taped to a chair. The room came fully into focus and Jackson could see that it was... well, it was sparse. Dimly-lit by a single, uncovered bulb, with grimy, peeling walls and no windows the tiny room appeared more like a prison cell. I mean, it might as well have been, to be honest. A small desk sat in front of Jackson. An old-school CRT television sat atop an equally old-school VCR deck, the cables of both trailed out of the room through a small hole drilled in the wall as there were no outlets to be seen in the room.
"Uh.... hello? Is there anybody there?" called Jackson, a hint of fear in his voice. He struggled against his bonds, but there was no hope of getting loose - whoever tied him there had evidently used an entire roll. Possibly two. His fear rising, Jackson's eyes darted about the room looking for an escape route - his heart sank as he realized that not only was there little hope of escaping the chair, but the singular wooden door just off to the right of him was the only route in or out of the room. And Jackson could hear footsteps approaching.
"Oh god... oh god.. oh GOD... who did I piss off this time???" Jackson said aloud as he desperately tried to make sense of his situation. There was a sudden "click" and a whir, as the TV and VCR came to life, apparently spontaneously, and static filled the TV screen as the speakers hissed loudly with white noise.
"OH JESUS CHRIST HELP ME! I'M TOO GORGEOUS TO DIE! THIS IS ALL BECAUSE CHARDONNAY BROUGHT UP THE RING THE OTHER WEEK ISN'T IT? I'M SORRY SAMARA, OK? I'M SORRY!" he implored, begging the fictional character to spare his life. Jackson began to hyperventilate with panic as the doorknob slowly began to turn, someone - or something was outside, trying to get in. He closed his eyes, not yet ready to witness the horror that was about to come through that door.
"Alright, what the hell are you shouting about?" asked a familiar voice. Jackson's eyes were clenched shut, but upon hearing the woman speak he slowly, almost reluctantly, opened one eye just a tiny bit.
At first he saw just a silhouette, which leaned in closer to him and he could just make out a puzzled - and very much bemused - look on her face.
"S... Stacey?" he stammered. "What the hell are you doing here? Have you come to save me? Did-" his eyes grew wide.
"Oh god did you bring me here? Are you going to kill me?"
eXXXstacy chuckled. "That's right, Jackson. I did bring you here."
Which was true - she did. She decided to have some fun at Jackson's expense though, continuing; "And as for killing you... well, I haven't quite decided yet. That all depends on how useful you are. I guess we'll find out when my partner gets here..."
Jackson, the gullible fool that he was, believed every word that came out of her mouth.
"Partner!? What the hell is going on!? Where am I!? Why am I here?" he pleaded, his face swiftly becoming ashen gray.
"Maybe you'll find out... when the hammer gets here..." eXXXstacy told him, menacingly.
"H-hammer??? What are you gonna do with a-" Jackson jabbered and whimpered and then- he got it.
"Wait a second- hammer? Shit."
The door flew open courtesy of a stiff kick from a heavy boot, and the diminutive-yet-sturdy figure of Harry "The Hammer" Hansen strode through the door.
"Alright you insignificant maggot!" Harry bellowed. "You think that the wrestling business is all fun and games, huh? You think that because you became the champion, that makes you some sort of fuckin' big shot, huh? Well you need to WAKE UP, boy!"
He slapped Jackson hard across the face with a potato of a backhand, and the chair rocked back with the force of the blow.
"Ow! Jesus christ, what was that for!?" Jackson whined. Harry shook his head.
"You don't get ta ask the questions now, boy! You're here for one reason only - and that's to LEARN!"
Jackson ran his tongue round the inside of his lips checking for the taste of blood.
"But... don't you learn by asking?"
Another slap from Harry damn-near toppled Jackson onto his back, he was saved only by a helping foot from his trainer-slash-assailant, placed onto the front right chair leg to stop it from tipping all the way. Harry held Jackson in position at a forty-five degree angle.
"I SAID no questions, boy! You ain't gonna say a word 'til I say you can, and you're gonna say what I tells ya to say, you understand?" He spat. Jackson complied with Harry's demands, and said nothing. Harry leaned in close, and screamed in his face; "I SAID... DO YOU UNDERSTAND, MAGGOT?"
Jackson's eyes widened with fear and his nose hairs curled and burned from Harry's whiskey breath. He turned his face away from Harry, as best as he could manage, and slowly nodded, praying that Harry would back off. Thankfully, mercifully, he did. Returning Jackson to an upright position, he crossed over to the desk and opened a drawer. He pulls out a VHS tape (ask your parents, young'ns) and holds it up to Jackson.
"Now, you gon' study, boy." Harry said. "First up - yerself. You gotta know what yer doin' right and what yer doin' wrong before you can even thinks about yer opponents. This here's a compilation tape of your best performances."
Harry turned back towards the VCR and TV setup, and Jackson cleared his throat, not daring to utter actual words, to get his attention.
"What is it boy?" barked Harry.
"I... uh, what am I supposed to learn from porn films?"
eXXXstacy rolled her eyes, and tutted as Harry pushed the videotape into the player. "It's a compilation of your matches, Jackson."
The static on the screen gave way to a flickering image, which panned up the screen repeatedly as the tracking had trouble keeping up. This scene had apparently been re-watched many, many times as Harry prepared to critique Jackson on his form. You could just about make out Jackson Steele, apparently in the midst of a wrestling match against a long-haired opponent, applying a rear waist lock and pushing down to apply pressure on the opponent's back. His bodily convulsions suggested that he was attempting a lift of some sort utilizing his opponent's hair. Though difficult to make out, the opponent appeared to be wearing a flesh-colored singlet. The moans and groans of battle played over the TV speakers, Jackson's opponent apparently in considerable pain.
"Hmm." pondered Harry. "Perhaps she's got the better idea."
He pressed the eject button just as the flickering began to slow down, and the cassette popped back out of the machine. He replaced it in the drawer, and pulled out a second cassette. Inserting the new tape, he turned back to Jackson.
"Alright, maggot - listen up. This here's your first lesson - we're gonna go through every single one of your matches and I'm gonna point out all the shit you do wrong. You pipe up when you do something right. So I don't expect to hear a peep outta you, understand?"
Jackson looked offended, but decided discretion was the better part of valor and nodded reluctantly. The video began with footage of Jackson's AWF debut against Bray Wyatt (yes, remember when Bray Wyatt was in AWF?) - as soon as the bell rang, Jackson went in and tried to match power with his opponent which did not end well for him.
"First mistake," Harry began, "You didn't read your opponent! You went straight in for the power moves against someone heavier than you, and he made you pay for it! Now you're lucky - all your opponents on Sunday are gonna be smaller than you - but chances are, THEY know their fuckin' shit and they won't be so stupid as to try and be the aggressor. Except for Ezriel - he's closest to you in height and weight, so you should expect him to come straight for ya. Bobby Barratt - he's small, wiry, fast. Likes to wrestle a high-flying style and he's a Limey so be prepared for a technical masterclass from him too."
Jackson opened his mouth as if to interject, but eXXXstacy shut him down with a silent shake of her head. Now wasn't the time for butting in, Jackson would benefit more right now from just letting Harry run his analysis.
On-screen, Jackson uses the ropes to assist in a pinfall attempt, but gets caught by the referee.
"Now I'll be honest with ya - it was stupid of ya to think that sorta shit would fly so early on. The ref's head is firmly in this match, and you need to cut shit like this out unless you wanna find yourself in the zebra's bad books! You never know with some of these refs, if they take a dislikin' to ya early on, while they're fresh and noticin' everything, they're gonna keep a closer eye on you and you won't be able to get away with Jack SHIT!"
The match continued on, and so did Harry.
"But I gotta give you credit for this move - when you undid the turnbuckle pad, you thought fast to hide the evidence in yer trunks! The ref ain't gonna stick his hand down there to check for contraband, unless he's one a them QUEERS! And last time I checked, they was banned from sports in Penn state!"
Harry's knowledge and tolerance of LGBT people might have been out of date, but his wrestling knowledge certainly wasn't, as he continued to talk Jackson through the rest of his match.
"Very nice counter to his finishing move there, keep that in mind in case anybody tries to break out a similar move on Sunday."
"you're leaving youself way too open to his punches! Ezriel and Shogun-Tron will make mincemeat of you if you don't wise up before your matches!"
"Bobby Barratt will capitalize in an instant if you stay down for that long! You've got the best stamina of any wrestler I ever trained - USE IT! If your legs feel like they're on fire - then TOUGH! You need to get back to your vertical base!"
For hours, literally all night, Jackson sat taped to the chair as Harry played him match after match after match, sometimes multiple times as he broke down each move, each counter, each and every time Jackson rolled out of the ring or eXXXstacy interfered, going into minute detail of why it was the wrong thing to do, really the wrong thing to do, or - in rarer cases - why it was a good tactic to employ.
Jackson lost track of time completely, and he found himself becoming a mindless zombie - if it was possible for Jackson to become any more mindless than he already was - until finally, the bell rang on his most recent encounter with Scorpion less than one week ago. Jackson breathed a sigh of relief as Harry produced a knife - for what purpose, Jackson didn't know - but he would have been happy for Harry to plunge the knife into his throat and put an end to his torment right there and then.
"Right... piss break." declared Harry.
Jackson's head flopped back as he heard Harry utter perhaps the most welcome words anybody had ever uttered. Trapped inside his ducktape coccoon for an ungodly amount of time, Jacksons entire body was drenched - he couldn't tell the difference any more as to what might have been sweat and what might have been piss. He didn't care. Any excuse to get up out of the chair was a good excuse to Jackson. Harry could have been coming at him with a twelve-foot dildo and ordering him to bend over, and Jackson would have done so with rampant gusto if it meant he could just be free from his shiny silver straitjacket.
Harry sliced through the tape and pulled Jackson up, he slid free from the moistened tape with a sickening squelch. Harry stepped back, and Jackson teetered for a second, before falling face-first onto the concrete floor.
"No more... please... no more, Harry. I'll watch whatever you want, listen to whatever you have to say, just... no more." He croaked. He lay motionless on the floor, face down in an ever-growing puddle of sweat and various other indiscernible bodily secretions. eXXXstacy dozed in a folding chair in the corner of the room. Harry stood back in the same position he'd spent the entire night in, next to the TV, arms crossed over his chest, staring down at Jackson.
"Damn straight you'll listen to me, boy. Have I ever steered you wrong before? When you was having doubts before your AWF Championship mach against Kernickity, who was it you turned to? Old Harry here. Now you got five minutes, go stretch your legs and meet me back here and we'll go over yer opponents."
Jackson didn't move. His legs twitched slightly, and the puddle beneath him grew larger.
"I... I think I'm done." he breathed, wearily. "Can I do the rest of this down here? I don't think I can survive another round in the chair."
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Jesus, millennials. You just want an easy ride, don't you? Back in MY day guys were CLAMORIN' to get into the chair! Nowadays... nobody can survive five minutes. How you managed fourteen hours is a testament to your stamina, Jackson Steele."
Jackson didn't move. "Fourteen... hours?"
"And three minutes. Now when Ezriel's got you strung up in a tree of woe, or Bobby Barratt is diggin' his knees into your back with his "Iconbreaker" - you remember this, you remember it well, Jackson. If you can put up with the chair for over half a day, you can take a measly little bit of spinal trauma."
Jackson made some sort of noise that sounded like a cross between a frustrated grunt and the gargling noise of a drowning man. eXXXstacy's eyes flickered open, and she gingerly helped Jackson back up and into the chair.
"I... I can. I've done it before. Too many times. They're all burned into my brain. They're all playing over and over again right now... I can see every single one of them....getting off of that stretcher after Kyznetsov damn-near broke my neck was my defining moment in this industry. I remember how I felt at the time... that as quickly as it has begun, my career was over. But I wasn't going to let it end then, and I won't let it end on Sunday either. Whether it's Shogun-Tron, Ezriel or Bobby Barratt... I know that I'm in for a beating. The beating of my life, truth be told."
He painstakingly lifted his right arm, and trailed it across his forehead to wipe away some of the sweat.
"But now I know what I'm doing wrong, I can mitigate some of that beating. Neutralize their offense... I won't be leaving gaping windows in my defenses for them to fire off easy moves... no free hits against Jackson Steele from now on. If I can come back from a near-broken neck, then they're gonna have to take my fucking head clean off to put me down!"
Harry cracked a rare smile. A small one, but it was there.
"Good. Good. So now you know yourself, we can work on your opponents. eXXXstacy - the tape, please!"
She looked at Jackson. "Uh... I don't think we're gonna be able to get the tape to stick any more. He's just too sweaty." Harry's smile turned into a frown.
"Besides, if you tape him to that chair for another marathon session, I think it might literally kill him. I think you've scared him enough - when he says he's ready to learn, I think he means it. What do you say I go get us all breakfast, and then we carry on afterwards?"
Jackson's stomach growled loudly at the mention of breakfast. Even Harry had to admit he was feeling somewhat peckish.
"Fine." he said. "There's a diner around the corner, why don't you go grab us somethin' ta eat and we'll get onto the opponents in an hour?"
Jackson Steele blinked rapidly, trying to force his eyes to focus as the world span around him. His vision blurred, and with a high-pitched ringing in his ears, Jackson felt like he had just woken up from a solid forty-eight hours of drinking. Jackson tried to summon the strength to stand but... something was wrong.
As Jackson's pupils adjusted themselves he soon learned that he was already upright- but he was still having trouble getting to his feet.
"Jeeeesuuus Chriiiiist.... how wasted did I let myself get this ti- wait, what the fuck? What the actual fuck?" he stammered. His senses slowly returning to him, he realized that not only was he upright, but he was completely immobilized, as he had been securely duck taped to a chair. The room came fully into focus and Jackson could see that it was... well, it was sparse. Dimly-lit by a single, uncovered bulb, with grimy, peeling walls and no windows the tiny room appeared more like a prison cell. I mean, it might as well have been, to be honest. A small desk sat in front of Jackson. An old-school CRT television sat atop an equally old-school VCR deck, the cables of both trailed out of the room through a small hole drilled in the wall as there were no outlets to be seen in the room.
"Uh.... hello? Is there anybody there?" called Jackson, a hint of fear in his voice. He struggled against his bonds, but there was no hope of getting loose - whoever tied him there had evidently used an entire roll. Possibly two. His fear rising, Jackson's eyes darted about the room looking for an escape route - his heart sank as he realized that not only was there little hope of escaping the chair, but the singular wooden door just off to the right of him was the only route in or out of the room. And Jackson could hear footsteps approaching.
"Oh god... oh god.. oh GOD... who did I piss off this time???" Jackson said aloud as he desperately tried to make sense of his situation. There was a sudden "click" and a whir, as the TV and VCR came to life, apparently spontaneously, and static filled the TV screen as the speakers hissed loudly with white noise.
"OH JESUS CHRIST HELP ME! I'M TOO GORGEOUS TO DIE! THIS IS ALL BECAUSE CHARDONNAY BROUGHT UP THE RING THE OTHER WEEK ISN'T IT? I'M SORRY SAMARA, OK? I'M SORRY!" he implored, begging the fictional character to spare his life. Jackson began to hyperventilate with panic as the doorknob slowly began to turn, someone - or something was outside, trying to get in. He closed his eyes, not yet ready to witness the horror that was about to come through that door.
"Alright, what the hell are you shouting about?" asked a familiar voice. Jackson's eyes were clenched shut, but upon hearing the woman speak he slowly, almost reluctantly, opened one eye just a tiny bit.
At first he saw just a silhouette, which leaned in closer to him and he could just make out a puzzled - and very much bemused - look on her face.
"S... Stacey?" he stammered. "What the hell are you doing here? Have you come to save me? Did-" his eyes grew wide.
"Oh god did you bring me here? Are you going to kill me?"
eXXXstacy chuckled. "That's right, Jackson. I did bring you here."
Which was true - she did. She decided to have some fun at Jackson's expense though, continuing; "And as for killing you... well, I haven't quite decided yet. That all depends on how useful you are. I guess we'll find out when my partner gets here..."
Jackson, the gullible fool that he was, believed every word that came out of her mouth.
"Partner!? What the hell is going on!? Where am I!? Why am I here?" he pleaded, his face swiftly becoming ashen gray.
"Maybe you'll find out... when the hammer gets here..." eXXXstacy told him, menacingly.
"H-hammer??? What are you gonna do with a-" Jackson jabbered and whimpered and then- he got it.
"Wait a second- hammer? Shit."
The door flew open courtesy of a stiff kick from a heavy boot, and the diminutive-yet-sturdy figure of Harry "The Hammer" Hansen strode through the door.
"Alright you insignificant maggot!" Harry bellowed. "You think that the wrestling business is all fun and games, huh? You think that because you became the champion, that makes you some sort of fuckin' big shot, huh? Well you need to WAKE UP, boy!"
He slapped Jackson hard across the face with a potato of a backhand, and the chair rocked back with the force of the blow.
"Ow! Jesus christ, what was that for!?" Jackson whined. Harry shook his head.
"You don't get ta ask the questions now, boy! You're here for one reason only - and that's to LEARN!"
Jackson ran his tongue round the inside of his lips checking for the taste of blood.
"But... don't you learn by asking?"
Another slap from Harry damn-near toppled Jackson onto his back, he was saved only by a helping foot from his trainer-slash-assailant, placed onto the front right chair leg to stop it from tipping all the way. Harry held Jackson in position at a forty-five degree angle.
"I SAID no questions, boy! You ain't gonna say a word 'til I say you can, and you're gonna say what I tells ya to say, you understand?" He spat. Jackson complied with Harry's demands, and said nothing. Harry leaned in close, and screamed in his face; "I SAID... DO YOU UNDERSTAND, MAGGOT?"
Jackson's eyes widened with fear and his nose hairs curled and burned from Harry's whiskey breath. He turned his face away from Harry, as best as he could manage, and slowly nodded, praying that Harry would back off. Thankfully, mercifully, he did. Returning Jackson to an upright position, he crossed over to the desk and opened a drawer. He pulls out a VHS tape (ask your parents, young'ns) and holds it up to Jackson.
"Now, you gon' study, boy." Harry said. "First up - yerself. You gotta know what yer doin' right and what yer doin' wrong before you can even thinks about yer opponents. This here's a compilation tape of your best performances."
Harry turned back towards the VCR and TV setup, and Jackson cleared his throat, not daring to utter actual words, to get his attention.
"What is it boy?" barked Harry.
"I... uh, what am I supposed to learn from porn films?"
eXXXstacy rolled her eyes, and tutted as Harry pushed the videotape into the player. "It's a compilation of your matches, Jackson."
The static on the screen gave way to a flickering image, which panned up the screen repeatedly as the tracking had trouble keeping up. This scene had apparently been re-watched many, many times as Harry prepared to critique Jackson on his form. You could just about make out Jackson Steele, apparently in the midst of a wrestling match against a long-haired opponent, applying a rear waist lock and pushing down to apply pressure on the opponent's back. His bodily convulsions suggested that he was attempting a lift of some sort utilizing his opponent's hair. Though difficult to make out, the opponent appeared to be wearing a flesh-colored singlet. The moans and groans of battle played over the TV speakers, Jackson's opponent apparently in considerable pain.
"Hmm." pondered Harry. "Perhaps she's got the better idea."
He pressed the eject button just as the flickering began to slow down, and the cassette popped back out of the machine. He replaced it in the drawer, and pulled out a second cassette. Inserting the new tape, he turned back to Jackson.
"Alright, maggot - listen up. This here's your first lesson - we're gonna go through every single one of your matches and I'm gonna point out all the shit you do wrong. You pipe up when you do something right. So I don't expect to hear a peep outta you, understand?"
Jackson looked offended, but decided discretion was the better part of valor and nodded reluctantly. The video began with footage of Jackson's AWF debut against Bray Wyatt (yes, remember when Bray Wyatt was in AWF?) - as soon as the bell rang, Jackson went in and tried to match power with his opponent which did not end well for him.
"First mistake," Harry began, "You didn't read your opponent! You went straight in for the power moves against someone heavier than you, and he made you pay for it! Now you're lucky - all your opponents on Sunday are gonna be smaller than you - but chances are, THEY know their fuckin' shit and they won't be so stupid as to try and be the aggressor. Except for Ezriel - he's closest to you in height and weight, so you should expect him to come straight for ya. Bobby Barratt - he's small, wiry, fast. Likes to wrestle a high-flying style and he's a Limey so be prepared for a technical masterclass from him too."
Jackson opened his mouth as if to interject, but eXXXstacy shut him down with a silent shake of her head. Now wasn't the time for butting in, Jackson would benefit more right now from just letting Harry run his analysis.
On-screen, Jackson uses the ropes to assist in a pinfall attempt, but gets caught by the referee.
"Now I'll be honest with ya - it was stupid of ya to think that sorta shit would fly so early on. The ref's head is firmly in this match, and you need to cut shit like this out unless you wanna find yourself in the zebra's bad books! You never know with some of these refs, if they take a dislikin' to ya early on, while they're fresh and noticin' everything, they're gonna keep a closer eye on you and you won't be able to get away with Jack SHIT!"
The match continued on, and so did Harry.
"But I gotta give you credit for this move - when you undid the turnbuckle pad, you thought fast to hide the evidence in yer trunks! The ref ain't gonna stick his hand down there to check for contraband, unless he's one a them QUEERS! And last time I checked, they was banned from sports in Penn state!"
Harry's knowledge and tolerance of LGBT people might have been out of date, but his wrestling knowledge certainly wasn't, as he continued to talk Jackson through the rest of his match.
"Very nice counter to his finishing move there, keep that in mind in case anybody tries to break out a similar move on Sunday."
"you're leaving youself way too open to his punches! Ezriel and Shogun-Tron will make mincemeat of you if you don't wise up before your matches!"
"Bobby Barratt will capitalize in an instant if you stay down for that long! You've got the best stamina of any wrestler I ever trained - USE IT! If your legs feel like they're on fire - then TOUGH! You need to get back to your vertical base!"
For hours, literally all night, Jackson sat taped to the chair as Harry played him match after match after match, sometimes multiple times as he broke down each move, each counter, each and every time Jackson rolled out of the ring or eXXXstacy interfered, going into minute detail of why it was the wrong thing to do, really the wrong thing to do, or - in rarer cases - why it was a good tactic to employ.
Jackson lost track of time completely, and he found himself becoming a mindless zombie - if it was possible for Jackson to become any more mindless than he already was - until finally, the bell rang on his most recent encounter with Scorpion less than one week ago. Jackson breathed a sigh of relief as Harry produced a knife - for what purpose, Jackson didn't know - but he would have been happy for Harry to plunge the knife into his throat and put an end to his torment right there and then.
"Right... piss break." declared Harry.
Jackson's head flopped back as he heard Harry utter perhaps the most welcome words anybody had ever uttered. Trapped inside his ducktape coccoon for an ungodly amount of time, Jacksons entire body was drenched - he couldn't tell the difference any more as to what might have been sweat and what might have been piss. He didn't care. Any excuse to get up out of the chair was a good excuse to Jackson. Harry could have been coming at him with a twelve-foot dildo and ordering him to bend over, and Jackson would have done so with rampant gusto if it meant he could just be free from his shiny silver straitjacket.
Harry sliced through the tape and pulled Jackson up, he slid free from the moistened tape with a sickening squelch. Harry stepped back, and Jackson teetered for a second, before falling face-first onto the concrete floor.
"No more... please... no more, Harry. I'll watch whatever you want, listen to whatever you have to say, just... no more." He croaked. He lay motionless on the floor, face down in an ever-growing puddle of sweat and various other indiscernible bodily secretions. eXXXstacy dozed in a folding chair in the corner of the room. Harry stood back in the same position he'd spent the entire night in, next to the TV, arms crossed over his chest, staring down at Jackson.
"Damn straight you'll listen to me, boy. Have I ever steered you wrong before? When you was having doubts before your AWF Championship mach against Kernickity, who was it you turned to? Old Harry here. Now you got five minutes, go stretch your legs and meet me back here and we'll go over yer opponents."
Jackson didn't move. His legs twitched slightly, and the puddle beneath him grew larger.
"I... I think I'm done." he breathed, wearily. "Can I do the rest of this down here? I don't think I can survive another round in the chair."
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Jesus, millennials. You just want an easy ride, don't you? Back in MY day guys were CLAMORIN' to get into the chair! Nowadays... nobody can survive five minutes. How you managed fourteen hours is a testament to your stamina, Jackson Steele."
Jackson didn't move. "Fourteen... hours?"
"And three minutes. Now when Ezriel's got you strung up in a tree of woe, or Bobby Barratt is diggin' his knees into your back with his "Iconbreaker" - you remember this, you remember it well, Jackson. If you can put up with the chair for over half a day, you can take a measly little bit of spinal trauma."
Jackson made some sort of noise that sounded like a cross between a frustrated grunt and the gargling noise of a drowning man. eXXXstacy's eyes flickered open, and she gingerly helped Jackson back up and into the chair.
"I... I can. I've done it before. Too many times. They're all burned into my brain. They're all playing over and over again right now... I can see every single one of them....getting off of that stretcher after Kyznetsov damn-near broke my neck was my defining moment in this industry. I remember how I felt at the time... that as quickly as it has begun, my career was over. But I wasn't going to let it end then, and I won't let it end on Sunday either. Whether it's Shogun-Tron, Ezriel or Bobby Barratt... I know that I'm in for a beating. The beating of my life, truth be told."
He painstakingly lifted his right arm, and trailed it across his forehead to wipe away some of the sweat.
"But now I know what I'm doing wrong, I can mitigate some of that beating. Neutralize their offense... I won't be leaving gaping windows in my defenses for them to fire off easy moves... no free hits against Jackson Steele from now on. If I can come back from a near-broken neck, then they're gonna have to take my fucking head clean off to put me down!"
Harry cracked a rare smile. A small one, but it was there.
"Good. Good. So now you know yourself, we can work on your opponents. eXXXstacy - the tape, please!"
She looked at Jackson. "Uh... I don't think we're gonna be able to get the tape to stick any more. He's just too sweaty." Harry's smile turned into a frown.
"Besides, if you tape him to that chair for another marathon session, I think it might literally kill him. I think you've scared him enough - when he says he's ready to learn, I think he means it. What do you say I go get us all breakfast, and then we carry on afterwards?"
Jackson's stomach growled loudly at the mention of breakfast. Even Harry had to admit he was feeling somewhat peckish.
"Fine." he said. "There's a diner around the corner, why don't you go grab us somethin' ta eat and we'll get onto the opponents in an hour?"
ONE HOUR LATER
Jackson and eXXXstacy sat in Harry's training ring in his "House Of Horrors" wrestling school in Rochester, New York, surrounded by discarded take out wrappers and cups. Jackson half-sat, half-lay up against the bottom turnbuckle, still regaining his strength.
"I hope you understand now just how important it is to make sure you do your research on your opponents, Jackson? Because they sure as hell are gonna do their research on you. And you saw everything last night - every slip, every mistimed maneuver, every badly-calculated bit of cheating you ever did in the ring... and you know that your opponents are gonna pick up on that too."
Jackson nodded slowly as he chewed on a chicken burger. He washed it down with some water, and gave his response.
"Yeah... I get it. I think I let the title go to my head... even though I said I wouldn't, I got complacent. I heard the fans cheering my name, and I mistook luck for genuine skill. I know I'm not the finished article... but still, when I watched those matches... over and over and over again... I watched them through the eyes of a fan, a critic, an internet smark. And you know what, even though I come off as this overly-confident, cocky sonovabitch, I always had the doubt inside me that I just wasn't good enough... but watching those matches back from an outsider's point of view, I saw a lot of promise. I saw a man who gave THREE legends some of the hardest matches of their careers. I saw a man who - yeah, I got lucky, I admit that - but I also won the freakin' AWF Championship in my first month in the job."
Jackson swigged the rest of his water, and threw the empty bottle through the ring ropes and into a nearby trash can. It his the edge, bounced up into the air and span around, before falling into the can.
"I know it isn't going to get any easier. These guys coming in from ICW... they're good. They're really good. And Bobby Barratt is one of the best."
eXXXstacy gave him a slightly amused look. Jackson gave her the same look back.
"I'm not completely clueless, you know! You didn't have to strap me to a fucking chair and force-feed me fourteen hours of wrestling to get me to understand my opponents!" he said. eXXXstacy smiled.
"Well... I'll let you in on a little secret. It wasn't really fourteen hours. It was more like nine. And two of those you were unconscious for."
Jackson chuckled. "Well when I tell people, it's gonna be fourteen."
He quipped, then furrowed his brow. "Hang on... I was unconscious for two hours?"
eXXXstacy's eyes darted around the gym and she bit her lip. "Well... that was in the chair. Overall it was about four hours counting traveling time..."
Jackson sat up. "FOUR hours!? Jesus Christ do you know how dangerous that is!?"
eXXXstacy was saved from further interrogation as Harry returned, wheeling in a TV on a stand, the kind you used to love watching in school on a rainy day.
"Alright, bitches!" Harry called out, "Gather round, children, it's time for lesson two! Now today we're gonna focus on your AWF Championship match. I've set up a couple of cot beds in the back office, you two can sleep on those tonight. We'll get to Shogun-Tron tomorrow! There's a whole SHIT TON of material to watch on Ezriel and Barratt, and I'm worried that your tiny little brain won't be able to cope with all the wisdom I'm about to impart!"
Harry parked the TV in front of the ring, and pulled two metal folding chairs over to the unit, setting them up in prime viewing position in front of the set. eXXXstacy and Jackson slid out of the ring and took up their positions as Harry loaded another tape into the machine.
The tape began to play and for several hours Jackson sat in silence as he watched a compilation of Ezriel and Bobby Barratt's matches for AWF and other promotions. Every so often, Jackson would break the silence to make an observation, pointing out whenever one of them would make a mistake or perform an advantageous maneuver.
"See, I would have ever noticed that in the ring..." he mused, when he noticed Ezriel would make particular movements when he was preparing to set up particular moves.
"Good counter opportunity right there, he didn't make sure the opponent was down for the count..." he thought out loud, noticing Bobby Barratt going to the top rope after knocking an opponent down.
"So if Ezriel whips me into the corner, I'd be better off going over the top rope and down to the floor, rather than take that superkick..." when he spotted Ezriel's "Rapture" often led into his "Mass Hysteria" finisher.
"Barratt fights dirty a lot... loads of low-blows and eye-rakes. I beter be on the lookout for those."
This continued for quite some time, Harry taking a different approach to this lesson as he let Jackson pick up on his opponents' strengths and weaknesses. Only very occasionally did Harry interject, giving his opinion on why something did or didn't work.
"There, look - Barratt got the feet up on the ropes when he went for the pin but he did it a lot later on in the match. That's savviness for ya. He didn't even think about doing it early on because he knew the referee was wide awake and expecting something like that. He waited, fought a relatively clean match - just chipping away with little shots like a thumb to the eye or a rake of the spine at exactly the right time so as not to get caught."
Jackson nodded along, making another mental note on the subject.
As the bell rang on the final match, the AWF Special Tag Team match at End Of Days, Jackson sat in silence, nodding slowly.
"Well?" asked Harry. Jackson didn't respond immediately, apparently thinking over his response. "How do you feel now? You think you've learned something today, maggot?"
One side of Jackson's mouth curled up in a slight smile. "Yeah. Yeah I do."
He turned to look at Harry.
"I've learned more than just something - I've learned how I can actually win this match. Barratt and Ezriel are both formidable opponents, there's no doubt about that. But they're only human. Well, I think Ezriel's human anyway. I make mistakes - hell, I make a lot of mistakes... but so do they. And I've picked up on a few of their biggest weaknesses. This Sunday, I'm gonna make sure I take full advantage of those weaknesses - and make sure to plug the holes in my own strategy. There's no such thing as Champion's advantage in a triple-threat match... for all intents and purposes, this match might as well be a handicap match. The biggest drawback for me now is that my match against Shogun-Tron is scheduled for just before this one."
Harry nodded. "That's why I focused on this one first. It might sound stupid, but this is gonna be your bigger test. When eXXXstacy said you were preparing for the End Of Days final first, I knew you'd be doomed before you even got to the arena." Jackson shot him a puzzled look. Harry explained his reasoning. "It's the wrong approach. As good as Shogun-Tron is, you only have to fight one of him. Getting you prepared for the triple-threat match means that you're already half-prepared for the singles bout. How do you feel about your chances against Shogun-Tron?"
Jackson waved him off. "I got this, man. Singles match. Easy-peasy... My God, you're right! I do feel more prepared and I haven't even started studying him yet!"
Harry grinned. It looked odd to see such a hardened, tough old bastard beaming. "My point exactly. If you'd gone about it the way you were planning on doing, you would have felt ready for Shogun-Tron, but completely overwhelmed by the Triple-Threat before you even started thinking about it."
Jackson rubbed his hands together as a wide smirk spread across his face.
"Right. I got this. I got this. Barratt, Ezriel - the hunted just became the hunter. It doesn't matter if there's two of you, three of you... there could be ninety million of you for all I care... but me wrestling in back-to-back matches isn't gonna stop me from coming out of both of them a winner. Not that it would have done before now, of course - if there's one guy in this company that's capable of wrestling two matches in a row and then skipping out of the arena without even breaking a sweat, it's me! I might not be known for technical prowess or brute strength, but there's one thing that Jackson Steele does better than anybody else on that roster - or on this planet - and that's go the distance! I've been beat up, beat down, beat on and beat off, and STILL got up and finished off a motherfucker while they were struggling for breath! I've ALWAYS had that going for me, it's how I won the Championship in the first place - only now I'm smarter, more clued up, I've got a keener mind and it's just chock-full of ways to exploit your shortcomings and make sure I don't give you ANY opportunities! Now I made a living out of going down boys, but I don't have any plans to revisit my old career! This time, I'm gonna be the one left standing!"
Harry walked over to Jackson and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Because Jackson Steele..." he began, "ALWAYS comes before the other guy does!"
Jackson looked up at Harry and sighed. Shaking his head, he decided not to correct him.
"Yeah, let's go with that. Thanks, Harry. You might just have saved my title."
