End of the Line
Act 1
"Battle-Axe"
~1~
The air is thick and humid, leaving a bitter, metallic taste on the tip of his tongue. He sits on a wooden chair, splintered and creaky. In front of him is a small, wooden table. Age has stolen its varnish. The only light in the room stems from the sunlight trying to filter in through the closed blinds hung across the window next to the door.
Anj's eyes are transfixed there.
There is a shining, metal object on the table. His hands are firmly planted, palms down, to either side of it. He licks his lips and can hear the hum of the refrigerator in his ears.
There's something not right about all this, but this is what it's come to.
This is the game he has decided to play.
They are going to come for him, he knows this, and he'll be ready.
Somewhere far away, barely audible, is the annoying, high-pitched wail of a phone ringing. Anj's concentration is broken. He blinks rapidly for a moment, and then wipes sweat from his brow. He notices that the gun is in his hand now, how it got there he can't remember, and he stares at it with a puzzled expression.
The phone stops ringing.
The high pitched noise is replaced by a vibrating murmur coming from his shirt pocket. He places the gun down and pulls his cell phone free. He flips it open not bothering to say hello.
"You listening?"
Anj cleared his throat, but his voice still seemed hoarse when he replied.
"Yes."
"It doesn't have to be like this, you know that right?"
"I do."
"All you had to do was walk away."
"It's never that simple."
"It could've been."
Anj's eyes flicker for a moment, a slight glance toward the .38 on the table.
"Still there, cowboy?"
"Still here."
"I just want to ask you one question. Would that be alright?"
"Suppose."
"Who was she?"
Anj's eyes wander to the blinds. The light there has changed as something is blocking it. He hears shuffling, and ever so slightly the knob on the door starts to turn. He swallows hard and quietly closes the phone.
~2~
Thursday, December 13th
Thursday, December 13th
Houston, Texas
The falling rain, albeit a drizzle, felt good on his skin. He had stepped out from under the breezeway and closed his eyes as the rain hit his face. He let his hand move to his forehead where the bandage was and he winched in reflex at the sharp sting of pain there.
He turned, looked up at the tall building that was the Houston Northwest Medical Center and pulled his hood up around his head. He gave a small salute to the complex and started to walk back in the direction of his hotel.
He figured he'd gotten about half a mile before he heard a car honking in the breakdown lane behind him. The car was a light gray Toyota and he stood and watched for a moment as the vehicle switched on its hazard lights.
The driver's side door opened, and Jessica Mendez stuck her head out into what was now pouring rain.
"Are you out of your mind?!" she yelled over the nearby traffic whizzing past. "Get in the car!"
He hesitated for a moment, then started for the Toyota.
When he slid into the passenger seat the warm air from the vents felt good on his skin and he used his sleeve to dry his wet face.
Jessica leaned forward and pulled the hood back away from his head.
"Jesus," she said when she saw the size of the bandage upon his forehead.
"Handsome as ever, right?" he replied with a small smirk.
"Why the hell are you walking? Someone would have picked you up."
"I needed to clear my head."
"By walking down the interstate? How's that working out?"
"Head's clear."
She sat back in her seat and propped her elbow up on the side of the window.
"Last week was a really bad time to quit smoking."
"How'd you find me?"
"I didn't have to find you," she said. "I was in the waiting room all night while they were looking at you. I stepped away to get a coffee and make a few phone calls. Believe it or not I'm not the only one concerned about your well being."
"Why?"
"Why are people concerned about you?"
"No, why were you in the waiting room all night?"
"I'm starting to ask myself the same question," she replied. "Look, we're partners now and what you do affects me as well. When you go checking yourself out of the hospital it reflects poorly on me when I can't tell anyone where you are."
"I didn't ask you to sign up for this."
"I know that, but you agreed to let me help you and unless you want to null and void our agreement I suggest you start letting me in a little bit. This lone wolf thing you got going on isn't helping anyone."
Silence filled the car for a moment.
The windshield wipers squeaked as they moved back and forth.
"I'm sorry," he said finally.
"Let's just get back to the hotel."
So they drove, onward through the rain washed streets.
When the hotel was coming up on the right, he could see a throng of people huddling around in ponchos and slickers outside the vestibule for the hotel lobby.
"Admiring fans?" Jessica asked. "I figured everyone would be outta the city by now."
Anj almost had to laugh.
"No," he said. "It's the Asian paparazzi. They're here for Yan. They follow him around whatever city he goes to and document him making a drunken ass of himself."
"There's like thirty people there."
"Must be catching on."
Jessica wheeled the Toyota into the underground parking garage.
Anj threw his hood back on as they headed for the elevator.
Neither spoke on the ride up to his room.
As soon as he was through the door he collapsed down onto his bed, stretched his sore legs, and let out a groan.
"What did your doctor tell you by the way?" Jessica asked as she took a seat in the chair next to a small hotel table. "Before you wisely checked yourself out."
"Mild concussion. Nothing major. I just have to get cleared by the XWF medical staff."
"I think they already deemed you fit to compete."
"Why do you say that?"
Jessica reached into her purse and took out her phone, tapped away on it for a second, then tossed it to him on the bed.
"They already got you booked for a match a week from Saturday."
He picked up the phone and looked at the Impact card posted on XWF.com
"Son of a bitch…" he muttered.
"I'd say," Jessica replied. "And I know how much you love me telling you what to do, but I'd seriously consider taking your name off the card."
"What?"
"Mild concussion or not, you were attacked by three guys last night, and oh yeah, in case you forgot, you kicked the owner of the company in the face. I'd say you have a pretty big target on your back."
He sat up on the bed.
"I have to fight and I have to be there."
"Why?"
"Because no one else is standing up to these guys. People are afraid. Yeah, they jumped me and kicked my ass, but that doesn't mean they're keeping me down. If there's one thing I've learned it's that you don't jump a guy unless you're afraid. This is just the beginning."
"How'd I know you were going to say something like that?"
"Look, you wanted to help me because you saw something in me, am I right?"
She stared across at him.
"Yes," she said finally.
"I don't back down. We're taking the fight back to them."
"What do you have in mind?"
"I'll tell you on the way to New York."
"New York?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Impact is in PA."
"I know, but Warfare is In New York."
~3~
"What's her name?"
"Who?"
"The only girl in here right now -- the brunette working the bar."
"That's Roxie."
"Roxie? Is that some type of stage name?"
"No, it's short for Roxanne, but you're welcome to see what happens when you call her that, Mr. Lightening Feet."
Anj leaned away from the bar, and took a sip of his cranberry juice.
The Shamrock was hopping for a Thursday night, and so far, no one had gotten too rowdy.
He turned to his friend Buxton and motioned back toward Roxie.
"What happened to that other girl who was here? Y'know, the one with the short black hair."
"Leann? Boss shit-canned her. Doing bumps in the bathroom."
Anj nodded as if it all made sense.
"She doesn't look a day outta high school," Anj said.
"Yeah? You into that or something?"
"Go fuck yourself for a second, would ya? What I mean is what's a girl that young doing here working a bar for a place like this?"
"You make it sound like we're scraping the bottom of the barrel."
Anj cocked an eyebrow and Buxton shut himself for a second.
"I'm just saying I don't want a situation on our hands like the one we had with Marie."
"Shit," Buxton said. "No one does. But you gotta face facts on that. Marie was no golden saint."
Anj nodded again and took another pull off his drink.
"I got the weekend off. So do me a favor and just watch the girl. There will be a rowdier crowd in here Saturday night. I don't want any accidents."
"You got it, boss man."
"Don't patronize me."
"Anj," Buxton said. "You can trust me."
Episode Two
Subject: Angelus
Date recorded: 12/13/12
Location: Undisclosed
"A Quick One While He's Away"
I have a lot of things to get off my chest, but some of that will have to wait for now. There are more pressing matters that require my attention and that's this tag match a week from Saturday.
Did I ever see myself tagging with a hack like Christian Lost?
Especially considering the streak that I'm on?
Hell, no.
Christian, I'll be upfront with you. You do one or two impressive things in the ring, but other than that you're a first rate, grade A, jackass. I do not like you and I certainly don't respect you.
Stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours.
Yan, buddy, pal, the drunken master himself. It looks like we find ourselves in a match again. Like I said before, it's nothing personal. I do respect you, but just like on 12/12/12, I think you're going to see that the results are going to be the same.
Better luck tomorrow.
Now onto you, Michael James
We seem to have found ourselves in a match and I imagine very shortly we will find ourselves in another match to see who is the true number one contender for the European Championship.
I won't take anything away from you. You have all the tools. All the anger. All the talent at your disposal. In short, you are one bad ass motherfucker.
But there's something that you don't have.
Heart.
And that means that on Impact and when we meet later on down the line with all the cards on the table. You can bring everything that you got, but, it won't be good enough.
You see for all the skills that you have, what you lack is focus and desire to be the best. You've been coasting, Mike. And I hate to inform you that the little wave you've been on will be coming into the shore.
It's the end of the line and when you get there you'll have a decision to make.
So ask yourself, do you have what it takes?
I don't think so and I think when you look in the mirror, Mike, I think you'll agree.
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