This Bird Must Fly
Jun 17, 2020 15:04:41 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Kira Izumi, and 1 more like this
Post by Tommy Kelly on Jun 17, 2020 15:04:41 GMT -5
Quarantine sucks. Trapped indoors, with nothing but the four walls around you for company. For some this is a nice break from the norm, a change of pace that gradually becomes easier. Almost welcoming. But for me? This reminds me of prison. Way way too much.
I came to Japan seeking fame, seeking glory. But mainly I came here to chase my demons away from good, and I did that. The last piece of my mind-fuck puzzle ended the night Katawa feel to his end. The last of my shadows died with him, the end of my own self-tormention.
I was free. I was victorious. The world was mine!
But then a wave of shitty influenza wreaked havoc on the world and drove everyone inside, drove them away from the light towards shelter in the dark. Drove them towards that which they were running from. For me, that couldn’t be any truer. I had been clean for almost six months. I’m not talking about drugs, or even booze. I’m talking about health. I was good, I looked good, I dressed good. I felt good. But like any animal trapped in a cage the vanity of it fleets and it becomes a matter of survival. I saw relief in the bottle, just as I had done many times before. My alcoholic painkiller, the wet blanket to take the cold touch off of every day life.
Booze. The only demon of my past life I have never been able to fully rid myself of. The sharp, liquor nectar, oozing its way down my throat, slowly comforting me in its hazy embrace, taking the edge off any day or event. It’s become my saving grace far too many times, and far too many times I hated it for that. I hated myself. This time, I was not alone. The entire world felt the same pain and suffering as I did. Every living person on the face of this globe has dealt with the consequences of the Chinese bat eater. Any everyone else was trapped at home with the demons, just like me. For some that might be an abusive partner, an overtly hostile homestead, a sickly or failing family member, or for others just an endless wave of loneliness and depression now fuelled by the lack of reprieve. Yeah, COVID, you really fucked us up the arse on this one.
But as I sat there, looking into the end of a bottle of Jack, mumbling to myself about how I am failing, letting myself down, letting my team down, killing myself… I saw my own reflection, looking back. I saw my eye, from the brown swill staring back at me. I saw a man down on his luck, and my eye saw me. And that’s when it clicked.
You are not weak. You are not a failure. You are down on your chips, but you still have this game in your pocket. You can win this still Tommy, this setback is nothing. The message was clear as fucking crystal;
Grab life by the big hairy balls.
And so I did. The entire world was poisoned by sickness, why should I let it rule me. Crush me. Wipe me out? Fuck no, I am better than this. Stronger than this. I didn’t come to Japan to be a whining little bitch, I came to Japan to reignite this sexy little bitch. So I did just that.
Katawa was dead. Synn was dead. My folks were dead. I was the last living memory of that world, now gone. I was the last living symbol of a tormented, corrupted world. I was the last living Champion of that world. As I fondle through my gear bag, I find the cold hard golden metal inside, strapped to the finest leather I've ever touched.
The XHF European Championship. The last victor, the last defender. Mongo retired the belt, but he didn’t retire me. It’s been 236 days since I last stepped into the ring, 236 days since I last bleed in the ring. I’ve held this belt twice, I’ve broken records with this belt, I’ve sealed my name in XHF history with this belt. And now it’s bundled at the bottom of a smelly gear bag, covered in used clothes and empty bottles of hooch. I’ve built a name for myself, a legacy. And now I am in a Japanese micro-apartment drinking myself to death, unable to see even my friends or my team, The Pack.
Time for things to change.
As members of the Pack congregate within the confines of the old Kowloon City arcade, Tommy Kelly greets them with a nod. ‘The StormCrow’ is looking as shaggy and wild as the day he dragged himself from the gutter, long hair flowing, grayed as the hair dye has run its course. Long, messy beard, matching the colors of his head as the Just-For-Men has run out. And his black suit is missing, replaced by casual torn denim jeans and a roughed up leather jacket. His eyes hide behind a pair of Aviators, which draws more attention than anything else.
“Thank you all for coming”, Tommy says to his gathered posse. The Pack, in all their glory, shielded behind medical masks and latex gloves stand around Tommy in wait of his speech. “I’ve called you here today to make an announcement, and one I’ve been mulling over for some time now. The last few weeks have been tough, on all of us, for various reasons. Living lives as professional entertainers is challenging as is, but doing so under the crushing reality of a worldwide pandemic is no joke.” He pauses, to make sure he has the attention of the group.
“I came to Japan to try to better myself, to try and find myself, to run away from troubles in the States. But the truth is, I came here to find closure. Shadows of my past haunted me still, and knowing they still lived and thrived here, in Japan… I couldn’t ignore the temptation. Bodhi offered me a place, a home here with you. With JROK. But the truth is, I came here for very different reasons.”
He stops to walk around a little, connecting with each person by eye. Looking into the craziness that fills Zolothachs eyes, looking at Kat Oni with a look of compassion, smirking and shooting a wink to Hannah Rockford.
“The reasons that brought me here died some time ago, the shadows that plagued me ended by my own hands. I killed off that which lurked in my memories and fears, but by doing that I killed off what was left of myself. Without a purpose, without a meaning, I slowly slipped back into my own personal Hell. The drink, I grew fond of it again. Too fond. I slowly let go of the clean, polished persona I had developed and found myself resorting back to my old self.”
“Yeah, we can tell. You look shit”, retorts Kat with a chuckle, drawing laughs from the gang including Tommy.
“Cheers Sheila… but you’re right. I do look shit. I feel shit. And up until recently, I felt lost. I had no reason to fight anymore, no reason to get out of bed. I was a failing old man, ready for Death to take him away.” He stops, looking at each and every person individually. “And then, the fight in me returned.”
He crosses to a nearby table and opens a bag, only to pull out the XHF European Championship.
“When I last fought, I entered that ring ready to put it all on the line. Ready to face my maker. I was ready to die, just so I could fight once more. That fire, that inferno inside me… that is what I miss most in life. And right now, it’s brewing. I hold a piece of XHF History, I’ve broken the record books, I’ve dominated the wrestling world across multiple federations. I’m a fucking champion, and I don’t need a golden strap to prove that.” He turns and tosses the belt back behind him.
“Which is why I’m leaving.” His statement takes a moment to hit home, drawing confused expressions from his Pack, but ultimately met with a number of questions. “I’ve toyed with the idea of Japan, I’ve toyed with the idea of Europe. Shit, I’ve looked past the XHF Network to broader horizons. But ultimately, I need to return home and finish things there. America, the last battleground for this old fool.”
The group hold their barrage of questions, all except one.
“Tommy, you came here to get away from that shithole. A lot of us did. You have a better chance here, a better future.” Bodhi’s words are true, and hit home hard. “You came here for a new life, and now you have it. You have us”.
“And I always will”. He needs to say no more, his touching words mean enough. “My days are not done yet. I’ve killed off everything to do with the old me, the ruin that was me. I’ve survived pain and anguish, and I’ve gotten retribution on my horrible tormentors. The only thing left in this world for me, the last mountain I had to climb before I can die at the top, is to once again rule the wrestling world. And for that, I’m returning to America. I’ve lived in many places over the years, born in Ireland, matured in Seattle, arrested in Portland, shipped to Iraq, crawled across Africa, lived on the streets of London, and now I’m here in Japan with all of you. But there is only one last place for me to truly be a Champion, and that is the home of wrestling."
He motions for the group to come together for a big hug, but fuck that. They don’t hug. They are animals of course. Kat Oni however accepts and jumps in for a hug.
“You’ll be missed old man… wait, does this mean I'm the leader now?” He chuckles, but sees the real question in her eyes.
“Fuck no, I’m the new leader”, pitches Randy Angel. He looks as drunk as Tommy feels.
“No leader, no alpha. Just a family.”
“Fuck that, I’m the leader now so”, yells Randy again.
“To Hell you are, he’s hugging me. That means I am the leader!”, retorts Kat.
As the group begin to dissolve into yelling and shouting, Tommy slips to the side and grabs his bag, circling them to escape as quickly as possible. Bodhi catches him before he leaves.
“Hey” she says, her hand outstretched. “Always a place here for you if you change your mind”. Tommy smiles, and shakes her hand.
“We'll cross paths again... mind yourself doll.” They shake, and a genuine smile is exchanged before Tommy sneaks away out the door and leaves the Pack to squabble over their new leader.
“Alright kids, settle down… I’m the leader, obviously”, but Bodhi’s words are met with louder and more disruptive shouting.
Fade out.