Sunlight comes in through the curtains as I rise up from the couch after watching video of the last Temptation. Thoughts have been swirling through my head ever since. It doesn’t help that GCW put me in some lame ass Christmas Tree match this week. I could care less about some trees and tinsel.
Right now I’m not even going to think about that match. SCCW is the place to be and it’s a place I intend on turning upside down. However, upon watching the show, I think I have my work cut out for me.
Last week Desade fired Stevens and attacked him, Suzanne Larsson and Austin King debuted, Xavier Kannon debuted by pinning Wyatt Connors, Terrence Kingsley made an appearance, Desade apparently has lost her fucking mind, and Lane Stevens is the number one contender. All of this happening and I was nowhere near any of it save for the Kannon debut match. I’m slacking in my efforts. What am I going to have to do? Paint my face like the Joker from ‘Dark Knight’ and perform a pencil trick?
That’s when it hits me like a bullet. No one is afraid of me. They should be…
On New Year’s day when I was walking the beach in San Diego, during a peaceful little moment of tranquility, I had a revelation. It wasn’t really a revelation, either. Two cokeheads on the beach tried to rob me.
They pulled guns on me and asked me for all my money. After smiling at them, I then disarmed them violently and sent them to the hospital with multiple contusions and various abrasions. They underestimated me just like SCCW is going to underestimate me. That leads me to today.
SCCW is changing by the minute. I know that I am a part of something special. The real Monday Night War is between SCCW and PRIME. I know this for a fact. However I also realize that I need to step up my game. I’ve suddenly been thrust to the forefront seemingly out of nowhere. First I get stuck in a literal match of death against Xavier Kannon and Wyatt Connors and then that is followed by being booked in a match against Aimz, the most bad ass woman on the face of the Earth.
My Agent William Smith, who arrived an hour earlier at my house to have one of his career discussion sessions in regards to my wrestling career, seems a bit worried as he sits down in the lounge chair after pacing the living room for a moment. Watching Temptation obviously had a big effect on him and his attitude toward me.
“Aimz is one of the top wrestlers in the world,” Smith says to me like I’m some idiot kid whose out of the loop.
“So?” I reply with a shrug. “Like I care.”
“But she’s the former SCCW Universal Champion!” he hollers out in an exasperated tone that annoys me to no end. “She’s in the final eight of GTT7. She’s one of the biggest stars in all the world right now and you…you’re just turning into the lunatic that everybody thought you were years ago.”
“No I’m not,” I snarl out at him. As usual he has no faith in me whatsoever. “Besides, all wrestlers anymore seem to care about is titles, money, and their ego. The fans deserve a better wrestler than that and I’m going to give it to them. I’m going to give them someone to hate and my message of hate will come across loud and clear.”
“But isn’t Desade already like that?”
“No, not anymore. She’s reforming into a nice person. In turn, I predict that SCCW is going to become stale. You know, like the Philadelphia Eagles offense. In other words, I want the old Desade back.”
“But wouldn’t you want her to turn face and take over the void leftover?”
“I imagined a SCCW without Desade wreaking havoc and it was just…boring,” I tell him. “Boring is not what I like to see. I also hear that there’s going to be some kind of a heel summit this week on this week’s Temptation. I think that I’m going to drop in and say hello.”
Smith gives me a disapproving look. It’s almost if he knows that I already have some sort of ulterior motive planned for the event.
“You’re going to go in there and cause problems, aren’t you?” Smith asks in a somewhat frantic tone.
“I’m just going to go there and get everybody on the same page,” I tell with a devious smile as I pace back and forth across the living room like an expectant father. Technically I almost would be considered an expectant father waiting for the birth of all the chaos I’m going to bring to SCCW.
I’m lying to him, actually. My entire plot goes deeper than this, much deeper. I’m not siding with the heels or the faces. In fact, unbeknownst to all of them, I have no side. I’m just the lone puppeteer whose going to turn everyone against each other and watch the chaos I’ve created unfold with a smile on my face.
Smith is starting to fidget in his chair. I can tell he’s starting to get upset. He fidgets a lot when he gets like this. Alcohol consumption is the other thing he does after getting upset so he’ll probably be in a drunken stupor at about three in the morning.
“Jesus James,” he mutters out. “I’m still dealing with all the shit from you and Count Von Macabre’s little temper tantrum after losing at GCW Christmas Chaos.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” I tell him in the most nonchalant manner possible to make it obvious that I don’t give a shit, which of course I don’t.
“You two destroyed a locker room and attacked several backstage workers!” he yells at me as he gets up out of his chair. His mannerisms show me that he’s thinking about punching me in the face.
“We didn’t lose the match,” I reply to him.
“Yes you did,” he says back much to my annoyance. No winning with this guy at all when it comes to debates like this.
“Were either of us pinned?”
“No.”
“Then the Count and I didn’t lose,” I respond as he glares at me like he wants to murder me right here and now. “We were robbed and that's all there is to it. It was a joke, however it did lead me to one conclusion. NOBODY wants to see me succeed and that’s the truth of the matter. See they don’t want anybody whose outspoken, out of control, and goes against conventional wisdom to break through the glass ceiling especially here in SCCW. Well I’m the sledge hammer that’s going to break through the glass ceiling and when the glass shatters and the whole foundation of SCCW collapses, no one will be spared.”
“So you’re saying that you’re going to try and make it to the top of the heap in SCCW?”
I raise an eyebrow giving him an incredulous look. Smith seems more confused than ever right now. That’s not saying much considering he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s just not that much fun,” I reply as an sly smirk slithers across my face like a snake in the grass. “It's too easy and goes too much according to the plan. I want to fuck with everybody in SCCW. By the time I’m done, no one will be the same. I had a vision after what happened in San Diego and it was a vision of anarchy. Here’s what I’m talking about. If I come on SCCW television and tell everyone that there’s going to be a murder live on the next Temptation, no one will be scared. But if I go on during the show and spontaneously blow up Jared Sykes’ car with him in it without any prior warning, then people will be frightened out of their minds because it’s not part of the whole SCCW plan. It‘ll be chaos and with that chaos, there will be nothing but paranoia and fear in the SCCW locker room. That‘s what I want.”
His face grows stone cold as I continue talking. I can see a picture of him with that look appearing on Botchamania sometime in the near future. I take a few glances around the room, noticing a cutting knife on the kitchen counter and a few of Rick Malloy’s High Times magazines on the floor by the couch, before continuing.
“There’s too much complacency in SCCW. Everyone’s all part of the grand plan for the organization. Everyone except for me, that is. I’m not part of the plan. That means that the plan has to change. Just imagine what I can do with some knives and a few explosions here and there. I want to turn SCCW into America the four month period after 9/11. I want there to be universal paranoia and fear amongst the roster. If they are filled with fear, I can easily control the whole place without anyone opposing me.”
He finally starts to speak up. I was starting to think that he’d finally gone mute which would be a plus.
“You’re…”
His voice trails off as if he wants to say something but at the same time he doesn't want to say it either.
“Yes?”
“You’re crazy,” Smith says to me with a sigh.
I can only shake my head at this. This guy is about on par with a talking parrot in the intelligence level. Why the hell I hired this guy is beyond me. One of the worst decisions I’ve ever made in my life.
“Took you this long to figure that one out?” I ask him sarcastically. “That really worries me. You’re my sports agent and you had no clue that I am a fucking nutcase? I should fire you right now just like Desade fired Lane Stevens. However I could do a little visual demonstration just so you get the idea about what the new norm for SCCW is going to be.”
Smith seems really upset after hearing what I just said. His face suddenly goes from pale white to red as a Killer Tomato. Hopefully Professor Mortimer Gangreen does show up at Temptation this week.
“You’re crazy, Varga!” he starts yelling at me with invisible smoke coming out of his ears. “Totally fucking crazy!”
I don’t think my idiotic sports agent seems to realize that I’ve covertly been moving closer to the kitchen counter.
“I think you don’t seem to GRASP…”
Without warning I grab the knife off of the kitchen counter and quickly grab him by the back of the neck, bringing the knife to his throat as I do. He quickly freezes to keep his movements to a minimum so he isn’t accidentally sliced open.
“Your situation.”
His breathing speeds up. I can see beads of sweat come from his forehead. Fear is what I want him to experience. Fear of death, to be more precise. Judging by his reaction, I believe that is what is happening.
“Now I know what you’re thinking. Why is my client holding a knife to my throat?”
He doesn’t answer. More sweat drips from his forehead down his brow. I can feel his heartbeat speeding up.
“The answer to that query is simple. I want you to feel the fear from a spontaneous moment of chaos. You, me, and every other human on this planet was created from a spontaneous moment of chaos. You just never know if the end result will be life or death. Five minutes ago you were probably thinking that you’ll be doing the same boring job for the rest of your life. That was five minutes ago. Now you don’t know if you’ll even be alive five seconds from now.”
He gulps after I say this because he thinks I’m not lying. I’m not.
“Please…please don’t kill me,” he mutters out trying to reach a plea deal with me.
As I’m about to respond this his pleas of mercy, I feel something next to me. Glancing over slightly I see a costumed man in black I know all too well from my past. His name is Judge and right now he has a Glock handgun pointed at my head.
“Let him go Varga,” Judge snarls out.
Upon hearing this, I quickly let go of Smith and raise my hands, dropping the knife as I do so but not before laughing in the Judge’s face as I turn around to face him.
“Oh lookie here,” I say to him with a chuckle. “It’s the Judge.”
“SHUT UP VARGA!” Judge screams at me loudly. He’s on the verge of pulling the trigger, too. Judge is known for having an itchy trigger finger which only makes this more exciting for me. “I KNOW you were the one behind the attack on me that put me out of action. This town has had to deal with those idiots the Peace Squad to handle their crime protection needs since that happened.”
Judge looks at me even angrier after my only response is shrugging my shoulders.
“How could I be behind it? I mean, I wasn’t even there at the SCCW show when you were attacked.”
This response only enrages him further. Now Judge presses the barrel of the Glock against my temple.
“I KNOW IT WAS YOU!” he screams out.
A smile creeps across my face like a burglar creeping into a house when someone isn’t home.
“I know that your name is Ash,” I tell him as he looks back at me a little taken aback by this. “And I know that Rick Roll was your best friend Todd Wilkinson.”
At this point Judge looks like a bomb about to explode much to my own amusement. This is what I want. I want him to be emotionally compromised which makes him unable to be fit enough to deal with me. I call it the ‘Captain Kirk Strategy’ as seen in the latest Star Trek movie when Kirk used this strategy against Spock.
“HOW THE HELL DO YOU KNOW ALL THAT?!” he screams out at the top of his lungs.
“Who do you think planted the seeds in Todd’s head to do all of that?” I ask him as I thoroughly enjoy tormenting him with my usual bit of mind games. “Who do you think was the one who was talking to him? I helped him reach his full potential and look at all the chaos it caused.”
His hand shakes as he continues to point the gun at my face as Smith looks on. Luckily we’re not alone anymore.
“YOU BASTARD!” he screams loudly.
Just as Judge is about to pull the trigger, some police officers enter the house and point guns at the Judge which only amuses me even more.
“DROP IT JUDGE!” one of the officers shouts at him.
Judge looks over at them before turning back to my smiling face. He soon drops his gun as the cops come over and put the handcuffs on me.
“Mr. Varga, you’re under arrest,” the officer says to me. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”
I nod my head in acknowledgement and they start leading me to the door. As they do so, I smile at the Judge and decide to say something sarcastic to him just to fuck with his paranoid vigilante mind.
“I’ll be seeing you around Judge,” I tell him as I‘m led past.
“Highly unlikely,” he responds.
I start laughing as they take me out the door and to the police car as the Judge and Smith look on from inside of my house. This is not the end of this, not by a long shot.
* * *
Two hours later.
The Clark County Detention Center is a fucking joke. After they brought me into the mausoleum of a jail that they have, they had my picture taken from various angles before fingerprinting me and bringing me to cell for the rest of the night if not longer. The minutes have gone by slow with not too much going on other than cholos, gangbangers, and some other various scummy looking characters taunting each other.
As I think the boredom will never end, suddenly it does. Two Barney Fyfe looking cops come wandering over. They have a machismo about them that I haven’t seen since Tony Montagna and Miami Vice. These guys probably think that they’re ladies men like Magnum P.I. the way they are acting. They come over and unlock my cell door before putting the handcuffs on me.
“What do you guys want?” I ask, a bit puzzled by all of this.
“Mr. Varga, come with us,” the bigger of the two men replies. “You have visitors.”
I raise an eyebrow. Nobody knows I’m here. And the people who probably do know I’m here probably want to kill me.
“Visitors?” I ask in a puzzled tone. “Who the hell would want to see me?”
They both then motion for me to leave the cell and no sell my question.
“Bastards.”
After closing the cell door they lead me out of the holding cell area and into the visiting area where I see two familiar faces from my past. One is a guy dressed like a pirate who goes by the name of Captain Jack Morgan and the other is a gigantic clown who is known simply as the ‘Killer Klown from Outer Space.’ The sight of these two men brings a smile to my face.
“We’ve come to bail you out, mate,” Jack says with a grin.
“Bailiando,” the clown says, nodding his head and motioning to Jack as if to say ‘what he said.’
I only have one response to this situation and their comments.
“Perfect.”
* * *
In the Las Vegas Review Journal the next day in the Nevada section…
Local wrestler arrested at his home
Local professional wrestler James Varga, known to many on the major and independent circuits, was arrested yesterday by police and the vigilante known as Judge after holding a knife to the throat of an unidentified man.
The incident in question took place at Varga’s house in the Summerlin area near the intersections of Charleston and Hualapai. The 26 year old professional wrestler was taken to the Clark County Detention Center before being bailed out by two unidentified men two hours later.
Varga is infamous in the wresting world for both his colorful antics and his out of control behavior outside of the ring. Throughout his career Varga has been associated with various strange characters and is alleged to have ties to various criminal organizations although that has never been proven.