Die Like a Man

[Outcast]

As the last remnants of my shower’s hot water falls down onto my head like rain I think to myself, "when your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home."

This quote from Tecumseh has kept running through my head ever since my attempted assassination. You'd think I'd be worried about where I'm going when I die, about life insurance, or just staying alive in general. But I know where I'm going when I die, as for insurance, well my bloodline ends with me and they can shove that debt up their ass and toss me in the ground wherever, I don't give a sh*t. And staying alive, well I've only got one thing left to live for, and that is to become OCW champion. Living only to win a championship might sound trivial to some people, but for me, it's all I've got left.

I turn the water off and step out of the shower, grabbing a dingy white towel from the rack. I had returned home to Chicago, not to hide from the Dixie Mafia, but to recharge and formulate a plan. So far I had nothing but the thought of facing death like a man.

I dry myself off and toss the towel over my shoulder and turn to the condensation-covered mirror. I wipe the glass off with my palm and reveal my reflection.

Reflection, I've been delving into that a lot as of late, reflecting on my life and the decision I had made. It was trivial to do this though because you can never change the past, but you can learn from it.

Xavier, I have learned from my past. Over the past two years in both GCWA and here in OCW I've done pretty damn well for myself. I've probably been on the best streak of my vast career. I'm still undefeated in singles competition, but you, you have been their f**king time I've come up short in multi-person matches. But, as you have stated, you were never the one to eliminate me, you were just on the outside looking in at the action, like the ugly girl in the threesome.

I know at Under the Lights you think you finally get your shot at me one on one, and finally, get your chance to prove something, but you got it twisted. It is I, that finally gets you one on one, and will finally prove something. But, unlike you, I'm not out to prove something to my opponent, to the fans, or the locker room.

No.

In the darkest hole, you'd be well advised
Not to plan my funeral before the body dies, yeah
Come the morning light, it's a see through show
What you may have heard and what you think you know

I'm out to prove something to myself. To prove that one on one, man to man, no one can withstand what I can. No one can withstand me.

There is a saying that gets tossed around a lot in pro wrestling, in boxing, and MMA. That one person is going to drag another out into deep waters and see if they can swim. It's used so much nowadays it has become another corny cliché. But what I'm going to do to you is quite similar to that clichéd statement, but it's much worse.

It's not deep water I'm going to drag you too, no, I'm going to drag you to hell with me. Then, we'll see if you are fireproof, or if you're wearing kerosene underwear. You saw the hell I put TLS and myself through, just to avenge a grudge that was nearly twenty years old, so what do you think I'll do for you Xavier?

You're still at the front of my mind, you're not a twenty-year-old memory. You're not a scabbed-over wound, you're fresh, still bleeding, still oozing. That wound had never been stitched, and the window to stitch it up has closed, now I have to cauterize the son of a b*tch. And I'm going to use the flames of that hell I drag you too to cauterize it with. You think you can outlast me, well just know when you're begging for the flames to be put out, I'll be saying "turn the f**king heat up".

I'll shovel the coals that stoke the flames myself. I got nothing to lose except my life, and Xavier I'm willing to give that up to become the OCW champion. If the last thing I see, and the last thing I feel before I take my final breath, is the OCW championship laid upon my chest, I will die a vindicated and righteous man. Dying a happy man though... that ship sailed a long f**king time ago. Now, I'm just a miserable old prick, and you know what they say, misery loves company.

A familiar, but pungent smell creeps into my nostrils as my words dissipate from my mouth. I take a few quick sniffs, followed by two deep inhales.

Is that smoke?

Am I imagining this? Is my mind playing tricks on me, or have I manifested smoke?

I'm snapped out of my daze as I hear screams from the outside of my apartment. I rush to look out of the window and see people gathering about the street. I throw the window open and am greeted by even more smoke as I stick my head out for a better look.

I see the bottom floor with flames shooting from every window in view. The second floor is catching, and I'm on the sixth floor. The cheap f**king landlord hadn't fixed the fire alarms, but what is the price of repair versus the price of innocent lives? That cheap f**k.

I drop the towel and grab the closest pants and toss them on, and exit to the fire escape. I stop as I step onto the rod iron balcony and look back into my apartment and say to myself "I can't leave it, it's all I have left of him".

I look down and see the second floor is fully engulfed now, but f**k it, I'm not leaving without it. I step back into my apartment and head for the bedroom, grabbing a shirt and slipping on my boots as I do so. Once in the bedroom, I head right for my nightstand, the place where my most prized possession sits, a picture of Victor and me from Soldier Field.

That was my favorite day ever, the Bears might have lost, but what else is new? It wasn’t about the game though, just being with Victor, being sober for the day, it was amazing and I still cling to that memory.

I make my way back out to the fire escape, and the flames have only continued to grow. I look out at the people that have gathered on the street and I notice two men that stick out like sore thumbs, mostly because you don’t see many cowboy hats in Chicago. I pause as they catch my gaze and soon theirs meets mine.

The taller of the two holds his hand in the shape of a gun and mimics a shot. F**king cowards, why didn’t you just come in the front door like a man? Instead, you’ve endangered the lives of many and displaced us all. I feel the rage boiling inside of me, if I get my hands on those two, I may just beat them to death in front of everyone.

I quickly make my way down the fire escape and make it to the third floor where the flames have begun to reach, but the smoke is already there bellowing out of the windows. I pause for a moment as I’ve tried to keep those Southern Boys in view and lost them for a moment. Finally, I spot them headed for a black SUV, and as I prepare to go down to the next level and go after them, I hear a voice calling out for help.

ABUELA HELP!

I freeze at the sound of the young girl’s voice. I move closer to the window but the smoke has covered the glass in soot. “STAND BACK!” I shout before kicking the window out. Smoke shoots like water from a hydrant out of the window and into my face. I stagger back to the railing of the fire escape and begin coughing.

As the smoke dissipates, I move closer and look in the window to see an old woman lying face down on the living room floor.

ABUELA!

I turn to see the Southern Boys standing in the open doors of their SUV just staring at me… those pieces of sh*t.

I pull my shirt off and wrap it around my face. I reach through the window and unlock it, and then slide it open and step into the apartment. I quickly kneel by the old lady and feel for a pulse… nothing.

This poor lady, an innocent bystander, and it’s always the innocent who pay that most.

ABUELA PLEASE!

The young girl's scream snaps me out of my moment of grief and I follow the sound of her screaming voice. I have to follow the sound of her voice as the smoke is burning my eyes and I can barely see.

PLEASE HELP ME!

Through squinted eyes I see the young girl hunkered in her closet. I reach my hand out to her and say, “come on let’s get out of here”. Her fear of the fire overcomes her fear of strangers. The young girl who couldn’t be more than ten takes my hand and I lift her and begin carrying her out of the apartment. As we begin to pass through the living room, I feel her raise her head and through a cough say, “Abuela”.

I hold the back of her head and gently press it into my shoulder and whisper, “shh, just close your eyes.”. I feel her face bury into my shoulder as I carry her through the living room. I step through the window back to the fire escape and look down to see flames torching the second floor. I check on the Southern Boys and see their SUV pulling off.

You aren’t getting away so easily motherf**kers.

I see the SUV heading in my direction, and head down as close as I can to the second floor before the heat becomes unbearable. I guess I should get used to these flames since I’ll be going to hell with Xavier, but I won’t be taking a child with me.

As the SUV comes closer, I formulate a plan. I use the agility I learned from my training in my younger years, and what jumping ability I have left in these old knees to jump from the ladder to the railing of the second-floor fire escape and then from the railing to the SUV.

As I drop from the rail of the second-floor balcony, I twist my body in the air to use my body to absorb the impact and protect the young girl. Just as I had planned, I land on the roof of the SUV, glad there wasn’t a luggage rack.

The roof gave way, denting in, and honestly, it hurt like a son of a b*tch.

The SUV comes to a stop after the fall, and I immediately check on the young girl.

Are you ok?

Frightened, she raises her head from my shoulder and looks around. Tears begin to fill her eyes and she shakes her head “yes”. A crowd quickly surrounds us and I hear sirens in the distance, took them long enough.

The girl is helped down and I slowly roll out of the crater my body had just made on the roof of the car, I notice the crowd is also checking on the two Southern Boys, and I also notice the sirens haven’t quite made it yet.

I push my way to the drivers’ side of the SUV and pull the door open, apparently the denting of the roof had caused the airbags to go off, which in turn had knocked the Southern Boys a little goofy. I grab the groggy driver by his shirt and pull him from the car.

WHO F**KING SENT YOU!?!

One of the bystanders grabs and tries to pull me off, saying “hey man, let him go”.

“F**K OFF!” I shout as I shove him away.

“You’re coming with me,” I say, as I reach to the driver's lower back and pull his gun from his waistband. No threats or warnings are needed, the crowd instantly backs away giving me room as I drag the driver off before the flashing lights arrive.

I drag him into a nearby alley and we disappear into the dark for some quality time.

To be continued.