King of Pain? Try bearing MY scars!
Jan 16, 2024 20:25:25 GMT -6
kop and lajohnnystylez419 like this
Post by psycho on Jan 16, 2024 20:25:25 GMT -6
It was a cold and snowy January night. The Southern United States had been blanketed by a winter storm and most flights in the region were grounded. Appalachia's highways and byways had morphed into parking lots in a matter of hours: nothing but stranded motorists for miles. Only a fool would be out and about in this mess.
Enter that fool.
A tired, battered, and legally deceased Mike "PsYcho" Price had gotten as far as a kind trucker would take him as he climbed out of the cab somewhere near Knoxville, Tennessee. His ultimate destination was still roughly 700 miles awayL Cape Canaveral, Florida for the LA Kief Memorial Event.
Night of the Ninja: the first NEW pay per view in about a decade. PsYcho mysteriously disappeared from the company sometime prior to that, though. In fact, the dirt sheets reported his death via suicide on New Year's Eve 2012. A closed casket funeral had taken place, a death certificate had been produced, and for all legal intents and purposes, Cyke had ceased to exist.
The past decade had been spent trying to cut through all of the government's red tape: he couldn't renew his driver's license, get a job,open a checking account, or even purchase a wireless plan: all because his Social Security Number belonged to a deceased person. He'd survived in his 60s in much of the same manner as he did his 20s: wrestling in Bingo Halls, National Guard Armories, County Fairs, or anywhere that would book him on a cash only basis. Cyke had toured the entire Northeast- wearing a cheap luchador mask and a set of Waste Management coveralls he'd stolen off an unattended garbage truck in order to work anonymously.
For whatever reason, Jesse Styles and his cronies had made life a living hell for PsYcho: they had raped and presumably murdered his daughter, gotten his son kicked out of college, burned his family home to the ground, and tortured him night and day aboard a small ship off the coast of Havana. When that didn't work, he'd been turned over to The Castros as a political prisoner.
As it turned out, Fidel passed away and Raul learned that Cyke held zero value to The Cuban Government as The United States had zero interest in trading for a dead man.
Which brings us to this cold stopover in Tennessee....
PsYcho walked for several hours in single digit temperatures to wrap up one final task en route to Florida: he had to attempt to make peace with his son.
Cyke knew all too well that the journey ahead was treacherous and that even if he reached his ultimate destination, the worst was yet to come.
LA Kief- a man he'd worked with years ago-had passed away back in the Fall and NEW had booked a memorial event in his honor. Somehow, PsYcho had gotten himself booked at the event against none other than KOP: King of Pain. This would be his opportunity to prove to the entire world that he was INDEED still among the living as well as pay respects for a fallen comrade.
Would he even make it to the event, though? Perhaps he'd find himself frozen to death on some park bench first. Just another John Doe in some random morgue....
Cyke walked on through the cold, frigid night as he approached the home of his only living offspring: Michael "Blitz" Price. Cyke slowly approached the carport when he heard the distinctive sound of a hammer being cocked as he felt cold steel placed to his temple...
"That's a .357 Magnum pointed directly at your skull! I don't know who you are, but you've got 3 seconds to get off my property!"
"Mikey......you'd be doing me a favor! But before you splatter my brains all over the snow, we need to have a talk!"
"DAD?!?!?!"
"Who else were you expecting at this hour? DoorDash??"
"How DARE YOU show up here!"
"Can we go inside and talk?"
"No. Wharever you've got to say, just say it and get the hell out of here!"
"Very well. I'm on my way to Cape Canaveral---"
"Good. There's a launch site there! Why don't you take off to Mars, Neptune, or anywhere far away from me and my family!"
"Look, I know I was a terrible father and it's too late to make amends or even attempt to apologize, but I'm sure you heard of LA Kief's passing."
"Yep. He was a good guy. One of the few bright spots in my search for you was meeting him. What are you getting at?"
"Well, NEW is hosting a Memorial Event for him...."
"STOP. Stop right there! If you're planning on getting in an NEW ring again, do whatever the Hell you want, If you want to go down there and get yourself killed- FOR REAL THIS TIME- then be my guest: just leave me out of it,
"Uh, son? Can you put the gun down?"
"Not until you tell me how you found me and why you decided to show up after all of these years."
"Well, as it turns out, LA Kief wasn't the only person who passed recently---"
"Yeah, Grandma Price died back in August. Of course, you weren't there."
"You're half right. I was there......lurking in the shadows. I slipped in prior to the viewing to say goodbye to mom. Son, maybe I've gone about this the wrong way but I've done a lot of these things to protect you. I know these people won't get to you as long as I leave well enough alone. I'd give anything to just have the life you've got: a steady job, a loving family, and a place to call home."
"You could've had all of that, dad. You chose wrestling."
"I did, and look where it's gotten me: a dead daughter, a son who hates me, and a lifetime of sorrow and regret. Not to mention some bad knees, an aching back, and----"
"SAVE IT! You'll get no sympathy from me! Not after everything you've caused!"
"Look son, I was and still am a fool.....but my mama wasn't. Now, if you'll put the gun down, I've got a little something of hers that may change your life."
"Very well......I'll put the gun down but make no mistake: you are not welcome here."
Cyke reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small key.
"Mikey, as you know, your Grandpa Price was killed in Vietnam back in the early 70s. Anyway, my mother has been receiving some sort of Surviving Spouse pension ever since. She never touched a nickel of that money. Rather, she's had it deposited into a Trust Fund that she'd set up in order to leave to me upon her passing. Because I'm legally dead and cannot claim that money, it automatically goes to my dependents.....which is you. Because it has been drawing interest for about fifty years, we're talking about roughly $250,000. Here's the key to her safe deposit box....
What I need you to do is take this key, get your ass to Amarillo, and go claim your money. You, your wife, and your children will be able to live comfortably off that for quite some time. As for me.....I've got a date with KOP!"
"KOP?"
"Yep, KOP. King of Pain he calls himself. I've met- well "BASURA" met him a few times on the indy circuit. I don't know the guy well and have no real beef with him, but as far as I can tell he's heading down the same road of wreckless abandonment that I traveled....."
"So, you're going down there to talk some since into him?"
"Nope. I'm going down there to honor LA Kief, embarrass Jesse Styles, and prove to the world that I'm still among the living. Then, I'm going to retire in peace. I just want you to collect what your grandmother left behind before things get messy."
"What of KOP, though? What's he got to do with any of this?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all. He just has the misfortune of being in the damned way! Maybe he'll learn something."
Enter that fool.
A tired, battered, and legally deceased Mike "PsYcho" Price had gotten as far as a kind trucker would take him as he climbed out of the cab somewhere near Knoxville, Tennessee. His ultimate destination was still roughly 700 miles awayL Cape Canaveral, Florida for the LA Kief Memorial Event.
Night of the Ninja: the first NEW pay per view in about a decade. PsYcho mysteriously disappeared from the company sometime prior to that, though. In fact, the dirt sheets reported his death via suicide on New Year's Eve 2012. A closed casket funeral had taken place, a death certificate had been produced, and for all legal intents and purposes, Cyke had ceased to exist.
The past decade had been spent trying to cut through all of the government's red tape: he couldn't renew his driver's license, get a job,open a checking account, or even purchase a wireless plan: all because his Social Security Number belonged to a deceased person. He'd survived in his 60s in much of the same manner as he did his 20s: wrestling in Bingo Halls, National Guard Armories, County Fairs, or anywhere that would book him on a cash only basis. Cyke had toured the entire Northeast- wearing a cheap luchador mask and a set of Waste Management coveralls he'd stolen off an unattended garbage truck in order to work anonymously.
For whatever reason, Jesse Styles and his cronies had made life a living hell for PsYcho: they had raped and presumably murdered his daughter, gotten his son kicked out of college, burned his family home to the ground, and tortured him night and day aboard a small ship off the coast of Havana. When that didn't work, he'd been turned over to The Castros as a political prisoner.
As it turned out, Fidel passed away and Raul learned that Cyke held zero value to The Cuban Government as The United States had zero interest in trading for a dead man.
Which brings us to this cold stopover in Tennessee....
PsYcho walked for several hours in single digit temperatures to wrap up one final task en route to Florida: he had to attempt to make peace with his son.
Cyke knew all too well that the journey ahead was treacherous and that even if he reached his ultimate destination, the worst was yet to come.
LA Kief- a man he'd worked with years ago-had passed away back in the Fall and NEW had booked a memorial event in his honor. Somehow, PsYcho had gotten himself booked at the event against none other than KOP: King of Pain. This would be his opportunity to prove to the entire world that he was INDEED still among the living as well as pay respects for a fallen comrade.
Would he even make it to the event, though? Perhaps he'd find himself frozen to death on some park bench first. Just another John Doe in some random morgue....
Cyke walked on through the cold, frigid night as he approached the home of his only living offspring: Michael "Blitz" Price. Cyke slowly approached the carport when he heard the distinctive sound of a hammer being cocked as he felt cold steel placed to his temple...
"That's a .357 Magnum pointed directly at your skull! I don't know who you are, but you've got 3 seconds to get off my property!"
"Mikey......you'd be doing me a favor! But before you splatter my brains all over the snow, we need to have a talk!"
"DAD?!?!?!"
"Who else were you expecting at this hour? DoorDash??"
"How DARE YOU show up here!"
"Can we go inside and talk?"
"No. Wharever you've got to say, just say it and get the hell out of here!"
"Very well. I'm on my way to Cape Canaveral---"
"Good. There's a launch site there! Why don't you take off to Mars, Neptune, or anywhere far away from me and my family!"
"Look, I know I was a terrible father and it's too late to make amends or even attempt to apologize, but I'm sure you heard of LA Kief's passing."
"Yep. He was a good guy. One of the few bright spots in my search for you was meeting him. What are you getting at?"
"Well, NEW is hosting a Memorial Event for him...."
"STOP. Stop right there! If you're planning on getting in an NEW ring again, do whatever the Hell you want, If you want to go down there and get yourself killed- FOR REAL THIS TIME- then be my guest: just leave me out of it,
"Uh, son? Can you put the gun down?"
"Not until you tell me how you found me and why you decided to show up after all of these years."
"Well, as it turns out, LA Kief wasn't the only person who passed recently---"
"Yeah, Grandma Price died back in August. Of course, you weren't there."
"You're half right. I was there......lurking in the shadows. I slipped in prior to the viewing to say goodbye to mom. Son, maybe I've gone about this the wrong way but I've done a lot of these things to protect you. I know these people won't get to you as long as I leave well enough alone. I'd give anything to just have the life you've got: a steady job, a loving family, and a place to call home."
"You could've had all of that, dad. You chose wrestling."
"I did, and look where it's gotten me: a dead daughter, a son who hates me, and a lifetime of sorrow and regret. Not to mention some bad knees, an aching back, and----"
"SAVE IT! You'll get no sympathy from me! Not after everything you've caused!"
"Look son, I was and still am a fool.....but my mama wasn't. Now, if you'll put the gun down, I've got a little something of hers that may change your life."
"Very well......I'll put the gun down but make no mistake: you are not welcome here."
Cyke reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small key.
"Mikey, as you know, your Grandpa Price was killed in Vietnam back in the early 70s. Anyway, my mother has been receiving some sort of Surviving Spouse pension ever since. She never touched a nickel of that money. Rather, she's had it deposited into a Trust Fund that she'd set up in order to leave to me upon her passing. Because I'm legally dead and cannot claim that money, it automatically goes to my dependents.....which is you. Because it has been drawing interest for about fifty years, we're talking about roughly $250,000. Here's the key to her safe deposit box....
What I need you to do is take this key, get your ass to Amarillo, and go claim your money. You, your wife, and your children will be able to live comfortably off that for quite some time. As for me.....I've got a date with KOP!"
"KOP?"
"Yep, KOP. King of Pain he calls himself. I've met- well "BASURA" met him a few times on the indy circuit. I don't know the guy well and have no real beef with him, but as far as I can tell he's heading down the same road of wreckless abandonment that I traveled....."
"So, you're going down there to talk some since into him?"
"Nope. I'm going down there to honor LA Kief, embarrass Jesse Styles, and prove to the world that I'm still among the living. Then, I'm going to retire in peace. I just want you to collect what your grandmother left behind before things get messy."
"What of KOP, though? What's he got to do with any of this?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all. He just has the misfortune of being in the damned way! Maybe he'll learn something."
