If I Make It Through The Week, There's Gonna Be Changes
Sept 17, 2024 21:35:18 GMT -5
Derek Mobley likes this
Post by Duce Jones on Sept 17, 2024 21:35:18 GMT -5
It all leads back to that fatal night.
The night that my life completely changed.
Multitudes of folks dance as if there’s no tomorrow inside of the Hakkasan Las Vegas Night Club. People are shown drinking alcohol drenched beverages, gyrating and grooving to the frequencies of the club dj. Over in the left section of the club we see the party goers form a circle around two men who appear to be engaged in an argument. One is a bald white man who sports a black leather vest over a plain white t-shirt. The other is Duce Jones, who appears to be more under the influence than normal. However, his demeanor is that of a man who’s beyond irritated.
It was supposed to be a night of celebration, I was fresh off a big victory at the early stages of my career. My best friends had traveled from Japan to personally kick it with me. The weed was great and the drinks were flowing. You know, living life and being young. We’ve all been there, not a care in the world for consequences. Especially if you felt as if you were as high on top of the world as I did that night. But, when you deal with the things that I deal with on a daily basis. As a child, being diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder… let’s just say that I had my fair share of moments of dealing with supernatural experiences.
This night was no different from the rest.. At that time it was clear that my marbles weren’t always in the bag. I would have moments of speaking to people who weren’t even there like my dead brother. Y’all now know him as Byson Kaliban, that’s a story for another day. Nonetheless, there was a time when he was just a voice only I could hear but an image that everyone else could see.
When I was a child, I was always told that I had just blacked out not knowing that my vessel was under the control of an entirely different entity. And, it’s even worse when you find out that that entity is none other than your deceased twin brother.
Talk about psychological fuckery..
I still remember that night as clear as day.
I guess you could say that I was going through one of my episodes where only I could see Byson. BRIM had caught me apparently arguing with myself within a mirror. Funny how mirrors seem to always play a part. Either way, I had to be at one of my lowest points because the look of sadness within BRIM’s eyes led me to believe that I was far from gaining any type of help for my situation.
“What!? Do you not see him?” I questioned with anger because I didn’t like to be called a liar.
“There’s no one here baby boy.”
“Byson’s right there! How can you not see him?”
“There’s no one here..”
I was in disbelief because there was no way anyone was going to convince me that Byson wasn’t standing in that same exact room with us.
“Fuck this! I told you motherfuckers that I didn’t want to go out! I’m going back to my room..”
I was only trying to save face.. True enough the alcohol was getting the best of me and I was extremely past my limit to be reasoned with. I quickly rush past him with anger and shame boiling through my blood. What the fuck was he really trying to imply? How the hell did Byson leave without me noticing a fucking thing? It wasn’t making any sense to me. Within my shuffle of shame and astonishment, I accidentally bump into one of those biker types. You know scruffy beard, bald head and his ‘colors’ showing proudly. His drink goes flying from his hand just as he turns it up towards his mouth and comes hurtling down towards the carpeted floor before dispersing the liquid substance into a puddle. I scoff.
“Damn boy, you made me waste my beer every fucking where.” The bald told me with a hint of irritation within his eyes.
“My bad mane..” I replied with a solemn tone. “I was just trying to…”
He cuts me off. “Boy, you better have a damn good reason why I shouldn’t make you lick that shit up off of the floor right now.” He scolded.
Boy.. That’s the second time he’s thrown that out there..[/font]
I don’t know why.. But that word rubbed me the wrong way.
“Aye mane, I was trying to apologize but since you wanna be a dick about it.. You can go fuck yourself.”
I give him a quick look up and down, sizing him up but not really wanting trouble so I try to move past him. He’s having none of it though, grabbing my shoulder and spinning me back towards him.
“Naw, naw.. That’s not how this is going to go.” He says as three men donning the same vest walk up behind him.
I roll my eyes with annoyance. I just want to go back to the room.
“Look, I don’t know what all the pumping up of all the chests is about but I’ma need for y’all to pump the brakes. It’s a beer dude, I can buy you another one if that’s the case.”
“How about you buy a round for me and my boys?”
“Yeah.. that’s a no for me. I spilled your drink and your drink only. These other guys can handle themselves.”
He chuckles, the loud blaring music almost drowning him out. But in my state, I focus a bit more to hear him clearly.
“That’s not how this is gonna work. Either you buy rounds for me and my brothers or you’re not walking out of here under your own power tonight.”
Hmph… Yeah, right..[/i]
With a deep inhale, I simply look at the man. Then my attention turns towards his crew. A short guy with greasy black hair, A heavier one, around my height with short brown hair. Then there’s the big one, maybe 6’5 or taller. Each one giving me their best stare of death. I’m not bothered though.
“Aight..” I replied nonchalantly before turning to walk away again. Unbothered.
“DUCE!” I hear BRIM call out.
Hearing the yell over the loud music, I calmly turn right into a hard right hand. I stumbled backwards in shock. Reaching for my face due to instinct, I try to assess the situation but he’s quickly at me. A sharp knee to the gut knocks the wind out of me a bit, but I quickly gain my bearings and shoot a hard right forearm into his jaw that sends him staggering back. Grabbing at his jaw, his lips form into a smirk as if this is what he really came out to do this night for enjoyment. I become annoyed because why does it has to be one of these types? He cracks his neck and swiftly front kicks me in my chest. I shuffle back onto one knee, a crowd starting to form around us, wanting to enjoy the action.
The man rushed with a right cross but I blocked it and returned fire with a left hook and right jab. He eats them and fires a straight right jab into my left eye. Now, I’m starting to get angry cause Danny DeVito here is not about to whoop my ass in front of all of these people. Trying to gain my bearings, the small stocky fellow rushes me and lifts me from my feet with a primal roar. The crowd parts once again as he carries me with all of his might through the sea of people and slams through a door that leads us outside of the Nevada hotspot. We both crashed into the concrete with so much force, it was as if the very foundation had cracked under the weight. He lands on top of me and connects with a clubbing blow that bounces my head off the pavement.
Darkness..
When I come too, BRIM is yanking me off of the man, his face barely recognizable. Brutally beating my hands, blood soaked hands that I stare at in shock. I look back at my opponent who appears to be fighting for his life to survive then back at BRIM.
“What happened?” I questioned with every ounce of sympathy that I could muster.
“You fuckin’ killed him man..” BRIM replied.
He doesn’t look quite deceased but still. “He started that shit with me! I was defending myself, what was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know but what you’re gonna dew now is get the hell out of here. You have too much to lose right now.” BRIM stated with his thick Baltimore accent. “Go!” He sternly stated.
Without any more words, I flee…
I run..
And run..
And run..
No clear outlook of a destination, just feet to pavement doing what I’ve always been known to do best when shit got too hot.
After all of these years, I’ve yet to thank the man who assured my freedom while he spent years in hell. No accountability whatsoever on my end but he knows that I definitely have the utmost respect for him. Because that night, my life changed forever.
“Typical.. They’re all fucking typical.” We hear Duce’s voice say, his southern accent far removed. “Talk about recurring cycles. Haunted houses, lunatics, paraplegics, spirits, entities, stoners, demons, zombies, convicts and Haitians.. With so much diversity you would think that you would see some originality. You’re all the same..”
A light flickers on and Duce stands within an empty room. It’s nothing fancy, saved for the various writings that plagued the walls behind and around him. His hair, no longer in locks but back to its original greasy state and braided in two cornrows. Sporting black Nike sweatpants, sleeveless ‘Vintage HoP’ t-shirt and black low top Nike Air Force 1s. Oh yes, he’s on demon time.
“You all sound like broken records with your countdowns and your curses. Your problems and your worries. What if this happens.. I hope I’m not locked in a room with this guy..” Duce says with a mocking tone. “Fuck out of here.. None of ya are really worth the wasted breath of talking about any of ya individually. Y’all know who the fuck I am and I know who the fuck y’all are.”
Duce shifts his shoulders and cracks his neck.
“It’s funny how life comes full circle and things seem to just play themselves out. OCW is back and is looking to crown a new champion! I’m all here for it.” He says, slapping his chest. “This place resonated with me for some reason… Some would say it’s because of my father’s ties but I wouldn’t say that. This was a place that as a child I would sit on the couch and watch every Monday night while ICWF had me tuned in on a Friday. It was somewhere I thought could be different from the rest. But my oh my how my vision was jaded through the blinded fandom, the dedicated loyalty to the brand. The ideology.. Letting things stand without question. And even if there were questions, they were met with open answers.” He snickers. “But it makes sense, I understand what it is and quite honestly, I’m not slighted in the least. But I do say that we must check the tape.”
The scene begins to fade into a squiggly motion, almost reminiscent of a flashback coming into play. We find ourselves panning over the Memorial Park Cemetery in Oklahoma City, soon shifting to Duce’s point of view.
I remember like it was yesterday, the fresh smell of dirt filled my lungs as I struggled to breathe. I couldn't do anything but lie there helplessly while more dirt piled on top of me. Flashes of my life begin to race across my mind. Thoughts of my newborns growing up without their father made me fight to survive. Amaria and Amarion, barely at the age of two years. Only being left with video footage and none of them would contain encouraging words from their father. Funny how children bring a different monster out of you.
If you haven't figured it out yet, this was the night I was buried by Mike Zybala.
As I lay there, many thoughts raced through my mind but death wasn't one of them. I had too much to live for. Shame, guilt, frustration, then anger. How the fuck did I let Zybala bury me?
Maybe, cause you’re a bitch..
That’s a little harsh..
It’s true.. Look at us.. Stuck under fucking dirt!
Just a minor mishap, soon someone will be here to dig us up. Surely, they would have too.
Ain’t no one coming to save us.
Will y’all shut the fuck up while I figure this out!?
Awe now you wanna be a genius, if you were so clever, we would never be in this predicament.
That’s not fair.
ENOUGH!!
T’fuck!? I thought I got rid of you.
Suddenly, my body jerks in a downward motion, sinking through the dirt like quicksand. I reach for any and everything, trying to keep from drowning but I'm helpless as my body soon comes spiraling down what seems like into a bottomless pit. Welp, if this is how I’m gonna go out…
SMACK!
Fuck that hurt!
What the hell was that?
How long were we falling for?
I can’t feel my body.. I for sure broke my spine with that fall.
GET UP!
“AHHH!!” I scream, my bones begin cracking and popping in ways that one would deem unnatural. The pain is so intense that I continue to cry in agony. I feel my body lift up from the concrete beneath me, my limbs feel as if they are extending. I haven’t felt this much pain since that fateful night.
My body began to feel like a puzzle being disassembled and placed back together. My muscles grew in size and I felt more strength than I ever felt in my life. My hair follicles all over my body seemed to become more defined in volume while my teeth felt razor sharp.
I jolt up to my feet, fuck… He’s gained control.
With a feral growl, I look around to notice that I’m now located in an underground facility. In my confusion, I see that I’m surrounded by militia type men who all have assault rifles pointed in my direction. Now I’m upset because, what the fuck are they on?
I growled again, trying to assert dominance but even though they showed fear within their pupils, they stood firm.
“Duce! Stand down!” I hear from behind a group of men, the voice coming from none other than my Uncle Christian who emerges through the crowd. “Stand down or they put you down, son..”
In my current state, those guns wouldn’t hold any weight unless the bullets were infused with silver but I was willing to risk it. I move towards my uncle when I feel a sharp bite across my back, followed by several more.
I feel woozy now.. Motherfuckas hit me with that night night juice. I can’t do anything more than collapse to the ground.
Now, I’ll save you all of the madness of what happened during that time frame but just know that none of it was pleasant. However, while I was imprisoned in my own personal hell, I was afforded the ‘luxury’ of catching wrestling whenever possible. It was a family thing and imagine my surprise when one day, while lying strapped to a table. I see that my father and incompetent brother are over in Korea defending titles that I personally was a holder of. Across Enemy Lines is what the one match show was billed as, XWF vs. OCW vyed for brand supremacy.
“T’fuck is that shit!? Why is Byson defendin’ tha straps wit’ Pops?” I questioned with anger and confusion.
I had been out of the loop so long that so much was happening during my absence. The last thing that I could remember before being buried by Mike Zybala was that Pops and myself had won those titles and before we were able to defend them, OCW had closed its doors once more. A defining moment in my career overshadowed by the egos of the masses. But from my knowledge, the place was still closed. At least I thought it was.. How long have I been here? With all of the iv’s stuck within my flesh and all of the sedatives that I was being shot up with, time was no longer viable. The days strung together and hope was at this point all but lost.
The squiggly lines motion back across the scene as we come back to Duce who’s still standing inside of the poorly lit room. We are given a close up visual of Duce’s eyes, one hazel the other artificial, his prominent scar across his left eye sticks out like a sore thumb. We pan backwards, getting a full view of him.
“I’m not here t’compare who done got fucked tha hardest round here.. None’a that shit mattas t’me, hell.. It’s tha nature’a tha beast. It’s how business works. When somethin’ is brith by you, you should be able t’handle an’ control it tha exact way that you see fit. Howeva’, a lil fairness goes a long way towards the outcome’a how far longevity is within’ that said business. Unless you’re an egotistical, tyrannical madman who could care less bout tha feelin’s an’ well bein’a othas..”
Duce smirks as his shiny platinum teeth glisten off of the lighting.
“When it comes t’curses, I’ve seemed t’become real familiar wit’ ‘em. Mo’ than what any’a y’all could quite possibly comprehend. When I stepped through tha doors’a OCDubya, I was a fuckin’ World Champion an’ now I’m viewed as a tag team specialist..”
Duce scoffs, beginning to pace from left to right.
“How t’fuck did that happen? I’ll tell ya how.. Because I was always willin’ t’do my job. I respect tha business mo’ than my own ego an’ truth be told, it hasn’t gotten me very far. By a show’a hands, how many’a y’all was given tha task’a facin’ tha most dominant man in OCDubya’s history in their debut match?”
He waits for an answer.
“None’a ya. Not once but twice, so since my inception wit’in’ this here company, the odds were stacked an’ I’ve fought my fight eva since. I mean, let’s be real.. Whether anyone wants t’admit it, I’m one’a the most influential people to eva grace that ring. But I don’t get that credit cause I’m me, tha lunatic who makes sense. Tha man who’se neva ran from a fight an’ once I step into that house, I’m gonna be tha man who could care less what’s goin’ on in that house. Y’all can set it on fire, conjure up demons wit ya exorcisms. Hell, have full blown fuckin’ orgies. My eyes are only set on one thang an’ that’s tha OCDubya World Championship. A title that’s been the main target since tha first day I set foot in that arena.”
Ducee begins to stroke his fully grown beard.
“Y’all can run round that house like tha Mystery Gang lookin’ fo’ clues. Cause I’m done bein’ that guy who’s there fo’ tha aesthetics. No longer are tha days’a me makin’ othas look good. When it’s all said an’ down, once that smoke is cleared. Cause y’kno’.. Zybala says he’s goin’ t’burn it down.. Eitha way..” He says shaking his head and getting back to the point. “I’m gonna emerge from the ashes as tha NEW OCDUBYA WORLD CHAMPION!”
Duce stares into the camera. It begins to pan back in on his face and soon his eyes before fading out.
When the picture comes back, we now find ourselves staring at the night sky. The stars are shining brightly, when we pan over to Duce, Byson and BRIM who all stand outside enjoying what appears to be a bottle of Jose Cuervo.
“Been a crazy four years, huh?”
“Mane.. crazy ain’t tha word..”
Duce takes a hit of the bottle before passing it to BRIM who takes a sip.
“Years ago, if ya wudda told me shit was gonna be like this. I’d probably laugh in ya face.”
“That was the illusion…”
BRIM takes another sip and passes the bottle to Byson.
“Mane.. we loss some good ones.. TLS… PIC… Welsh… Marcus… Pops…”
Byson and Duce let out a collective sigh. Byson pours a shot out and takes one himself before passing the bottle to Duce. You can see some tears trying form within his eyes.
“Are you sure that you want to go through with this? After Sierra’s nephew got shot, you said that you were out of the game.”
“This ain’t for me, this fo’ Pops. He’s tellin’ me t’do it..”
The night that my life completely changed.
Multitudes of folks dance as if there’s no tomorrow inside of the Hakkasan Las Vegas Night Club. People are shown drinking alcohol drenched beverages, gyrating and grooving to the frequencies of the club dj. Over in the left section of the club we see the party goers form a circle around two men who appear to be engaged in an argument. One is a bald white man who sports a black leather vest over a plain white t-shirt. The other is Duce Jones, who appears to be more under the influence than normal. However, his demeanor is that of a man who’s beyond irritated.
It was supposed to be a night of celebration, I was fresh off a big victory at the early stages of my career. My best friends had traveled from Japan to personally kick it with me. The weed was great and the drinks were flowing. You know, living life and being young. We’ve all been there, not a care in the world for consequences. Especially if you felt as if you were as high on top of the world as I did that night. But, when you deal with the things that I deal with on a daily basis. As a child, being diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder… let’s just say that I had my fair share of moments of dealing with supernatural experiences.
This night was no different from the rest.. At that time it was clear that my marbles weren’t always in the bag. I would have moments of speaking to people who weren’t even there like my dead brother. Y’all now know him as Byson Kaliban, that’s a story for another day. Nonetheless, there was a time when he was just a voice only I could hear but an image that everyone else could see.
When I was a child, I was always told that I had just blacked out not knowing that my vessel was under the control of an entirely different entity. And, it’s even worse when you find out that that entity is none other than your deceased twin brother.
Talk about psychological fuckery..
I still remember that night as clear as day.
I guess you could say that I was going through one of my episodes where only I could see Byson. BRIM had caught me apparently arguing with myself within a mirror. Funny how mirrors seem to always play a part. Either way, I had to be at one of my lowest points because the look of sadness within BRIM’s eyes led me to believe that I was far from gaining any type of help for my situation.
“What!? Do you not see him?” I questioned with anger because I didn’t like to be called a liar.
“There’s no one here baby boy.”
“Byson’s right there! How can you not see him?”
“There’s no one here..”
I was in disbelief because there was no way anyone was going to convince me that Byson wasn’t standing in that same exact room with us.
“Fuck this! I told you motherfuckers that I didn’t want to go out! I’m going back to my room..”
I was only trying to save face.. True enough the alcohol was getting the best of me and I was extremely past my limit to be reasoned with. I quickly rush past him with anger and shame boiling through my blood. What the fuck was he really trying to imply? How the hell did Byson leave without me noticing a fucking thing? It wasn’t making any sense to me. Within my shuffle of shame and astonishment, I accidentally bump into one of those biker types. You know scruffy beard, bald head and his ‘colors’ showing proudly. His drink goes flying from his hand just as he turns it up towards his mouth and comes hurtling down towards the carpeted floor before dispersing the liquid substance into a puddle. I scoff.
“Damn boy, you made me waste my beer every fucking where.” The bald told me with a hint of irritation within his eyes.
“My bad mane..” I replied with a solemn tone. “I was just trying to…”
He cuts me off. “Boy, you better have a damn good reason why I shouldn’t make you lick that shit up off of the floor right now.” He scolded.
Boy.. That’s the second time he’s thrown that out there..[/font]
I don’t know why.. But that word rubbed me the wrong way.
“Aye mane, I was trying to apologize but since you wanna be a dick about it.. You can go fuck yourself.”
I give him a quick look up and down, sizing him up but not really wanting trouble so I try to move past him. He’s having none of it though, grabbing my shoulder and spinning me back towards him.
“Naw, naw.. That’s not how this is going to go.” He says as three men donning the same vest walk up behind him.
I roll my eyes with annoyance. I just want to go back to the room.
“Look, I don’t know what all the pumping up of all the chests is about but I’ma need for y’all to pump the brakes. It’s a beer dude, I can buy you another one if that’s the case.”
“How about you buy a round for me and my boys?”
“Yeah.. that’s a no for me. I spilled your drink and your drink only. These other guys can handle themselves.”
He chuckles, the loud blaring music almost drowning him out. But in my state, I focus a bit more to hear him clearly.
“That’s not how this is gonna work. Either you buy rounds for me and my brothers or you’re not walking out of here under your own power tonight.”
Hmph… Yeah, right..[/i]
With a deep inhale, I simply look at the man. Then my attention turns towards his crew. A short guy with greasy black hair, A heavier one, around my height with short brown hair. Then there’s the big one, maybe 6’5 or taller. Each one giving me their best stare of death. I’m not bothered though.
“Aight..” I replied nonchalantly before turning to walk away again. Unbothered.
“DUCE!” I hear BRIM call out.
Hearing the yell over the loud music, I calmly turn right into a hard right hand. I stumbled backwards in shock. Reaching for my face due to instinct, I try to assess the situation but he’s quickly at me. A sharp knee to the gut knocks the wind out of me a bit, but I quickly gain my bearings and shoot a hard right forearm into his jaw that sends him staggering back. Grabbing at his jaw, his lips form into a smirk as if this is what he really came out to do this night for enjoyment. I become annoyed because why does it has to be one of these types? He cracks his neck and swiftly front kicks me in my chest. I shuffle back onto one knee, a crowd starting to form around us, wanting to enjoy the action.
The man rushed with a right cross but I blocked it and returned fire with a left hook and right jab. He eats them and fires a straight right jab into my left eye. Now, I’m starting to get angry cause Danny DeVito here is not about to whoop my ass in front of all of these people. Trying to gain my bearings, the small stocky fellow rushes me and lifts me from my feet with a primal roar. The crowd parts once again as he carries me with all of his might through the sea of people and slams through a door that leads us outside of the Nevada hotspot. We both crashed into the concrete with so much force, it was as if the very foundation had cracked under the weight. He lands on top of me and connects with a clubbing blow that bounces my head off the pavement.
Darkness..
When I come too, BRIM is yanking me off of the man, his face barely recognizable. Brutally beating my hands, blood soaked hands that I stare at in shock. I look back at my opponent who appears to be fighting for his life to survive then back at BRIM.
“What happened?” I questioned with every ounce of sympathy that I could muster.
“You fuckin’ killed him man..” BRIM replied.
He doesn’t look quite deceased but still. “He started that shit with me! I was defending myself, what was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know but what you’re gonna dew now is get the hell out of here. You have too much to lose right now.” BRIM stated with his thick Baltimore accent. “Go!” He sternly stated.
Without any more words, I flee…
I run..
And run..
And run..
No clear outlook of a destination, just feet to pavement doing what I’ve always been known to do best when shit got too hot.
After all of these years, I’ve yet to thank the man who assured my freedom while he spent years in hell. No accountability whatsoever on my end but he knows that I definitely have the utmost respect for him. Because that night, my life changed forever.
“Typical.. They’re all fucking typical.” We hear Duce’s voice say, his southern accent far removed. “Talk about recurring cycles. Haunted houses, lunatics, paraplegics, spirits, entities, stoners, demons, zombies, convicts and Haitians.. With so much diversity you would think that you would see some originality. You’re all the same..”
A light flickers on and Duce stands within an empty room. It’s nothing fancy, saved for the various writings that plagued the walls behind and around him. His hair, no longer in locks but back to its original greasy state and braided in two cornrows. Sporting black Nike sweatpants, sleeveless ‘Vintage HoP’ t-shirt and black low top Nike Air Force 1s. Oh yes, he’s on demon time.
“You all sound like broken records with your countdowns and your curses. Your problems and your worries. What if this happens.. I hope I’m not locked in a room with this guy..” Duce says with a mocking tone. “Fuck out of here.. None of ya are really worth the wasted breath of talking about any of ya individually. Y’all know who the fuck I am and I know who the fuck y’all are.”
Duce shifts his shoulders and cracks his neck.
“It’s funny how life comes full circle and things seem to just play themselves out. OCW is back and is looking to crown a new champion! I’m all here for it.” He says, slapping his chest. “This place resonated with me for some reason… Some would say it’s because of my father’s ties but I wouldn’t say that. This was a place that as a child I would sit on the couch and watch every Monday night while ICWF had me tuned in on a Friday. It was somewhere I thought could be different from the rest. But my oh my how my vision was jaded through the blinded fandom, the dedicated loyalty to the brand. The ideology.. Letting things stand without question. And even if there were questions, they were met with open answers.” He snickers. “But it makes sense, I understand what it is and quite honestly, I’m not slighted in the least. But I do say that we must check the tape.”
The scene begins to fade into a squiggly motion, almost reminiscent of a flashback coming into play. We find ourselves panning over the Memorial Park Cemetery in Oklahoma City, soon shifting to Duce’s point of view.
I remember like it was yesterday, the fresh smell of dirt filled my lungs as I struggled to breathe. I couldn't do anything but lie there helplessly while more dirt piled on top of me. Flashes of my life begin to race across my mind. Thoughts of my newborns growing up without their father made me fight to survive. Amaria and Amarion, barely at the age of two years. Only being left with video footage and none of them would contain encouraging words from their father. Funny how children bring a different monster out of you.
If you haven't figured it out yet, this was the night I was buried by Mike Zybala.
As I lay there, many thoughts raced through my mind but death wasn't one of them. I had too much to live for. Shame, guilt, frustration, then anger. How the fuck did I let Zybala bury me?
Maybe, cause you’re a bitch..
That’s a little harsh..
It’s true.. Look at us.. Stuck under fucking dirt!
Just a minor mishap, soon someone will be here to dig us up. Surely, they would have too.
Ain’t no one coming to save us.
Will y’all shut the fuck up while I figure this out!?
Awe now you wanna be a genius, if you were so clever, we would never be in this predicament.
That’s not fair.
ENOUGH!!
T’fuck!? I thought I got rid of you.
Suddenly, my body jerks in a downward motion, sinking through the dirt like quicksand. I reach for any and everything, trying to keep from drowning but I'm helpless as my body soon comes spiraling down what seems like into a bottomless pit. Welp, if this is how I’m gonna go out…
SMACK!
Fuck that hurt!
What the hell was that?
How long were we falling for?
I can’t feel my body.. I for sure broke my spine with that fall.
GET UP!
“AHHH!!” I scream, my bones begin cracking and popping in ways that one would deem unnatural. The pain is so intense that I continue to cry in agony. I feel my body lift up from the concrete beneath me, my limbs feel as if they are extending. I haven’t felt this much pain since that fateful night.
My body began to feel like a puzzle being disassembled and placed back together. My muscles grew in size and I felt more strength than I ever felt in my life. My hair follicles all over my body seemed to become more defined in volume while my teeth felt razor sharp.
I jolt up to my feet, fuck… He’s gained control.
With a feral growl, I look around to notice that I’m now located in an underground facility. In my confusion, I see that I’m surrounded by militia type men who all have assault rifles pointed in my direction. Now I’m upset because, what the fuck are they on?
I growled again, trying to assert dominance but even though they showed fear within their pupils, they stood firm.
“Duce! Stand down!” I hear from behind a group of men, the voice coming from none other than my Uncle Christian who emerges through the crowd. “Stand down or they put you down, son..”
In my current state, those guns wouldn’t hold any weight unless the bullets were infused with silver but I was willing to risk it. I move towards my uncle when I feel a sharp bite across my back, followed by several more.
I feel woozy now.. Motherfuckas hit me with that night night juice. I can’t do anything more than collapse to the ground.
Now, I’ll save you all of the madness of what happened during that time frame but just know that none of it was pleasant. However, while I was imprisoned in my own personal hell, I was afforded the ‘luxury’ of catching wrestling whenever possible. It was a family thing and imagine my surprise when one day, while lying strapped to a table. I see that my father and incompetent brother are over in Korea defending titles that I personally was a holder of. Across Enemy Lines is what the one match show was billed as, XWF vs. OCW vyed for brand supremacy.
“T’fuck is that shit!? Why is Byson defendin’ tha straps wit’ Pops?” I questioned with anger and confusion.
I had been out of the loop so long that so much was happening during my absence. The last thing that I could remember before being buried by Mike Zybala was that Pops and myself had won those titles and before we were able to defend them, OCW had closed its doors once more. A defining moment in my career overshadowed by the egos of the masses. But from my knowledge, the place was still closed. At least I thought it was.. How long have I been here? With all of the iv’s stuck within my flesh and all of the sedatives that I was being shot up with, time was no longer viable. The days strung together and hope was at this point all but lost.
The squiggly lines motion back across the scene as we come back to Duce who’s still standing inside of the poorly lit room. We are given a close up visual of Duce’s eyes, one hazel the other artificial, his prominent scar across his left eye sticks out like a sore thumb. We pan backwards, getting a full view of him.
“I’m not here t’compare who done got fucked tha hardest round here.. None’a that shit mattas t’me, hell.. It’s tha nature’a tha beast. It’s how business works. When somethin’ is brith by you, you should be able t’handle an’ control it tha exact way that you see fit. Howeva’, a lil fairness goes a long way towards the outcome’a how far longevity is within’ that said business. Unless you’re an egotistical, tyrannical madman who could care less bout tha feelin’s an’ well bein’a othas..”
Duce smirks as his shiny platinum teeth glisten off of the lighting.
“When it comes t’curses, I’ve seemed t’become real familiar wit’ ‘em. Mo’ than what any’a y’all could quite possibly comprehend. When I stepped through tha doors’a OCDubya, I was a fuckin’ World Champion an’ now I’m viewed as a tag team specialist..”
Duce scoffs, beginning to pace from left to right.
“How t’fuck did that happen? I’ll tell ya how.. Because I was always willin’ t’do my job. I respect tha business mo’ than my own ego an’ truth be told, it hasn’t gotten me very far. By a show’a hands, how many’a y’all was given tha task’a facin’ tha most dominant man in OCDubya’s history in their debut match?”
He waits for an answer.
“None’a ya. Not once but twice, so since my inception wit’in’ this here company, the odds were stacked an’ I’ve fought my fight eva since. I mean, let’s be real.. Whether anyone wants t’admit it, I’m one’a the most influential people to eva grace that ring. But I don’t get that credit cause I’m me, tha lunatic who makes sense. Tha man who’se neva ran from a fight an’ once I step into that house, I’m gonna be tha man who could care less what’s goin’ on in that house. Y’all can set it on fire, conjure up demons wit ya exorcisms. Hell, have full blown fuckin’ orgies. My eyes are only set on one thang an’ that’s tha OCDubya World Championship. A title that’s been the main target since tha first day I set foot in that arena.”
Ducee begins to stroke his fully grown beard.
“Y’all can run round that house like tha Mystery Gang lookin’ fo’ clues. Cause I’m done bein’ that guy who’s there fo’ tha aesthetics. No longer are tha days’a me makin’ othas look good. When it’s all said an’ down, once that smoke is cleared. Cause y’kno’.. Zybala says he’s goin’ t’burn it down.. Eitha way..” He says shaking his head and getting back to the point. “I’m gonna emerge from the ashes as tha NEW OCDUBYA WORLD CHAMPION!”
Duce stares into the camera. It begins to pan back in on his face and soon his eyes before fading out.
When the picture comes back, we now find ourselves staring at the night sky. The stars are shining brightly, when we pan over to Duce, Byson and BRIM who all stand outside enjoying what appears to be a bottle of Jose Cuervo.
“Been a crazy four years, huh?”
“Mane.. crazy ain’t tha word..”
Duce takes a hit of the bottle before passing it to BRIM who takes a sip.
“Years ago, if ya wudda told me shit was gonna be like this. I’d probably laugh in ya face.”
“That was the illusion…”
BRIM takes another sip and passes the bottle to Byson.
“Mane.. we loss some good ones.. TLS… PIC… Welsh… Marcus… Pops…”
Byson and Duce let out a collective sigh. Byson pours a shot out and takes one himself before passing the bottle to Duce. You can see some tears trying form within his eyes.
“Are you sure that you want to go through with this? After Sierra’s nephew got shot, you said that you were out of the game.”
“This ain’t for me, this fo’ Pops. He’s tellin’ me t’do it..”
