57 Days

The black ‘89 Pontiac Grand Am belonging to “Godly” Ken Davison rolls slowly down the driveway that cuts through Holy Family Cemetery. The clouds are overcast, draping the graveyard in a dark gray. Ken’s car pulls to a slow stop and after a few moments, Ken steps out, dressed casually in a pair of khakis and an orange polo shirt. He walks over to Crystal’s headstone and kisses it before placing a bouquet of pink carnations on the top. He gently kneels down next to the headstone, leaning his head against it as he speaks.

“Hey. You know, I did. I actually did it. I’ve got that World Championship from Carnage. Now, I’ve gone from Amber Ryan to her stepdaddy. This match, it’s different. At first, it was what I expected. He shows up, announces that he’s using his rematch clause, and he’s challenging me at Chaos 100 for the World Championship. Then, because of some of the young guns shootin’ off their mouths, he steps back and says he just wants the shot at me. He says he wants to avenger Amber for what I did to her. The funny thing is, I can respect that.”

“Another thing; almost no one seems to respect me as a champion. All I hear from most of them is back talk and disrespect. They are like a bunch of petulant children who insist on whining and bitching and moaning until they get their way. What they need to do is get put in their place.”

Ken is speaking quickly, loudly, almost frantically.

“Oh, and Kyra and I are hitting things off pretty well. We’ve had dinner a few times and I’ve come to realize the woman the cameras don’t see is more complicated, maybe intriguing is a better word than I could have ever expected. Not that I was expecting any of this if I’m being honest with you. But that’s what ties all this random shit together.”

“Did I honestly feel like Jack Michaels deserved this shot? Hell no. Do I feel like I deserved this shot at Jack Michaels? Yes. The man held the Carnage Wrestling World Championship for 700 some odd days. The man defended the championship seven times. He is, by all accounts, the standard-bearer of what you should strive to be professionally, even if he is the paragon of imperfection as a person. I realize that Jack says he is fighting for Amber, but I don’t think that’s the case. She’s a big girl who can fight her own battles. I want to fight him for Kyra. It’s because she can’t fight this battle. If this is a one and done as Jack claims, Kyra will never get the opportunity to give Jack the beating that he deserves from her.”

Ken seems to be rambling now, as though he is dancing around something but refuses to come out and say it.

“It’s weird, this feeling. I almost don’t remember what it is like to do something for someone else. I told her that I could do a great, terrible thing for her. I guess it’s time to prove that.”

Ken lets out a deep exhale, and a drizzle begins to fall. Ken looks up and as the rain moistens his face, he disappears into his thoughts. In the farthest reaches of his memories. rain is falling from the heavens, lightning is crashing and thunder is clapping outside as a very young Ken begins to come to.

“Here, let me help you.”

“Where am I?”

That was an interesting question indeed. Young Kenneth Davison was a child of the streets, the son of an absentee father and an alcoholic mother, He fled home to get away from the abuse. Living on the streets, life was never easy. Though he spent most of his days in the library, educating himself to compensate for his lack of formal education, he spent his nights searching for food. Though it was not his usual routine to break into houses to steal food, he saw an open window and felt the pangs of hunger and could not resist. This night, he never got to the food, passed out from exhaustion on the kitchen floor below the open window. As he awoke, there was a young girl, no more than a year his junior, covering him with a warm blanket.

“I don’t want you getting all wet.”

He answered hesitantly. He looked around, confused by his surroundings. The girl’s parents stood in the doorway, but the only thing he could focus on was her.

“Thank… you… What’s your name?”

“Crystal…. who are you and what are you doing in my kitchen?”

Her tone was not that of fear or anger, rather it was more a tone of kindness and curiosity.

“Do you want the truth or a happy lie?”

“Truth.”

“Ken… I guess I can’t lie, I was looking for food.”

“Don’t your parents feed you?”

“No, my parents don’t even know I’m alive. Dad left and mom’s a drunk. I’ve been on my own for about two years.”

Crystal’s mother at that point walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a sandwich, and hands it to Crystal. She, in turn, hands it to Ken.

“Really you don’t have to… Please, just don’t call the cops. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Why would we do that if we haven’t already?”

“But I broke into your house.”

Just then, Crystal’s father interrupts.

“So we’ve noticed. Today happens to be your lucky day, son. Go hop in the shower, I’ll loan you some clean pants and a shirt for the night. They might be big, but they’re clean. You can sleep on the couch. We’ll discuss everything else in the morning.”

Crystal looks up at Ken again. It would be an interesting start to the best and worst days of Ken’s life. She would follow Ken into the world of professional wrestling, but that is another story for another time. Ken is snapped back to reality by his phone vibrating in his pocket.

“Sorry, thought I had turned that off.”

Ken looks down and sees a text from Kyra. It reads “What are you up to?” Ken wipes the phone screen on his shirt to dry it before putting it back into his pocket. As he has done numerous times in the last few moments, Ken takes another deep breath.

“I’ve… I’m…”

Ken stammers, intimidated by the spirit of his deceased fiancee.

“Shit. I’m selling the house and moving to Baltimore.”

Silence. Davison’s face is contorted in an odd combination of confusion and relief.

“Things with Kyra are going well, I think. I feel like this is something… well, I don’t know. I haven’t felt this way since… since…” Davison lets out another heavy sigh. “Since you.”

There’s another pregnant pause. This time, it’s not Ken who breaks the silence.

“It’s about Kendamned time, bro.”

Ken nearly jumps out of his skin as he turns.around to find not only his stepbrother Sean but the entire Pollux clan. Ken’s adoptive father stands with his arm around his wife.

“Son, you have been miserable for too damned long. Crystal would have wanted nothing more than for you to be happy. It’s admirable that you haven’t given up the ghost, so to speak. Crystal loved you more than life itself.”

“And you loved her just as much.” Ken’s mom finishes her husband’s sentence. “You have accomplished everything Crystal had wanted for you professionally. The best way to honor her memory now is to be happy. If that means moving to Baltimore, then you need to do it.”

Ken tries to keep his composure, but he can’t seem to stop the tears welling up in his eyes from streaming down his face.

“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. You know? I feel guilty moving on… like I am disrespecting her memory or something. How the hell am I supposed to let go?”

“Dude, you don’t have to let go. You don’t have to move on. You just gotta keep her in your heart. You’ve done that for the last 23 years, brohan. You can do that now.”

“But…”

“No buts, Ken. We love you too much to see you continue down this path. You’ve alienated Mac, your best friend on God’s green Earth. You’ve done things that you should be ashamed of. You can continue going through life being a miserable fuck or you can pull your head out of your ass. You call yourself “Godly”, well, here is your come to Jesus moment. You might not want to hear it, but Crystal would be ashamed of how you’ve acted.”

Ken hangs his head, the reality of the situation hitting him like a slap in the face.

“Do what you need to do, son. But I want you to remember what we’ve told you. We love you. Now, go be happy.”

Ken’s father steps forward and clasps his hand on Ken’s shoulder.

“Oh, and try to get a place in Federal Hill if you can. It’s the best neighborhood in Baltimore.”

“Thanks,” Ken mutters in almost a whisper. The family surrounds him, wrapping their arms around him in a giant hug.

“We’re sorry we interrupted, Ken. But, we felt you needed to hear what we had to say.”

“You’re right, mom. I needed it. Thank you.”

The family separates and Ken steps out from in between them.

“I’ve got to get going. Movers will be at the house in an hour., and, yes, Dad. Federal Hill.”

The family says their goodbyes, talking all at the same time. Ken begins walking to his car and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He starts feverishly typing into his phone, replying to Kyra. “Out of town. Be back in Baltimore either late tonight or early tomorrow morning. Got a surprise for you.” A sly smile crosses Ken’s face as he presses send and shoves the phone back in his pocket.

The number 57 appears on the screen. The number flips down to 56 like an old fashioned alarm clock. The clock starts counting down… 55… 54… 53… 51…48… the numbers flip faster and faster before finally arriving at the number 0. The countdown fades from the screen and “Godly” Ken Davison fades in. His robes are accented with an orange collar and matching tinted glasses. He begins to speak, calmly and confidently.

“On the day of Chaos 100, it will have been 57 days. 57 days since I won the Carnage Wrestling World Heavyweight Championship. 57 days since Jack Michaels jumped me from behind. 57 days that I have plotted my revenge. It will have been 57 days… 1 month and 26 days since Jack Michaels made the mistake of giving me exactly what I wanted.”

“Allow me to show you and the rest of the world what an ignoramus you truly are. When I entered into that number one contender’s tournament for what was, at the time, your Carnage Wrestling World Heavyweight Championship…”

Davison reaches down and whips the Carnage Wrestling World title belt onto his shoulder.

“Now MY Carnage Wrestling World Heavyweight Championship… I showed that I belong with the best by beating Trent Steel, a former World Champion in his own right. Then, your stepdaughter, ‘Stunt Amber’ bested me and then went on to beat you. I could have stepped back and waited for an opportunity. Instead, I turned that setback into a motivation. My mission statement became clear.”

“Do you remember, Jack Michaels? Do you remember War Games? I don’t remember war games because that opportunity was taken away from me for no reason other than the fact that I was the Baltimore City Champion. Why wouldn’t you want one of the best in the company on your side?”

Davison looks down at his feet for a moment, taking some deep breaths. You can tell Davison still harbors some resentment at being left out of the War Games match.

“Be that as it may, after Amber 2 beat me, I decided that there was only one fitting way to atone for the sins of the past. The path I chose was to dismantle Paragon and take out its members one by one by one by one.”

Davison holds up his hand, four fingers in the air.

“First, I defeated Kyra Johnson in what was the first step in creating the Ultraviolent Goddess we know today. Even in defeat, Kyra showed the world she wasn’t Jack Michaels’ girl. She showed she was not only a woman but her own woman.”

Davison lets his pinky, leaving the fingers held in the air.

“Next, I easily dispatched Eli ‘I’m Not That” Goode. At that point, I realized that what Eli and Kyra needed was someone to support them instead of using them as you did. It took some time, but Kyra came to realize she needed someone to stand with her, not in front of her. Unfortunately for him, Eli was not so smart.”

Davison lowers his ring finger, leaving two in the air. He winces a little, still feeling the effects of JC’s attack.

“Then, you go and decide that after Amber whooped your ass, it’s time to hang up the boots. Fine. It is what it is. That’s one of the many things that separate us, Jack. While you ran away after your match with Amber, just like you did in the two months before your match with Amber… notice a pattern here? While you sat on the sidelines, I was here fighting. I was here scratching and clawing. While I may have used some questionable tactics, the fact of the matter is I was here. I busted my ass to get my shot at Amber and unlike you, I took the ‘Distorted Angel’, clipped her wings, and shoved her halo up her ass.”

“That… that leaves you, Jack.”

Davison grimaces as he lowers his pointer finger, leaving his middle finger in the air.

“The entire reason that I have to run all of this down for you is twofold. First, since you’ve been away, I need to drive home the point that in the end, I accomplish everything I claim that I will do. Secondly, because you’ve shown up TWICE in the last six months. You may be one of the single most self-absorbed people I know. But, I’m okay with that because you, Jack… You are the gift that keeps on giving.”

“You have said here and professed that this was never about the championship for you. Each and every person in this company, that is a fan of this company or is aware of your very existence knows that we should be wheeling you out onto Maury Povich so he can look at you in front of a live studio audience and tell you ‘and the lie detector determined that… was a lie!’ If it wasn’t about the World Title, you would have just stepped up and challenged me like a man. If it wasn’t about the World Title, you never would have used the false pretense of using a rematch clause so you could defend Amber’s honor. However, when the locker room collectively shamed you, called you out on it, you collapsed like a house of cards in a tornado.”

From off-camera, several playing cards fly across the screen, adding effect to Davison’s words.

“When I heard that you were going to do commentary for my match at WAR, the first thing I asked Kyra was ‘What is Jack trying to do?’ You are not as clever as you think. You and I have been doing this far too long for either of us to pretend that this wasn’t your plan all along. I’m not going to pretend that you are doing this for all of the altruistic reasons you’ve been spouting off about. You are not who you claim to be. You have never been the man you claim to be now. Paragon wasn’t about helping Eli Goode to fulfill his potential. Paragon was never about allowing Amber Ryan to get the opportunities that she deserves. And Paragon was sure as fuck never about allowing Kyra to be anything more than a would-be trophy wife.”

“You see, Jack, that’s the difference between you and me. Where you made yourself the focus of every calculated movement you made, I have given of myself. When I defeated Kyra and when I defeated Eli, I offered them the opportunity to stand by my side. I need to say that again. I allowed them to stand by.. my… side. I wasn’t looking to hold Paragon back. No, no, no, no. In fact, I did exactly what I set out to do.”

Davison holds his hand in the air, signally for the audience at home to give him a moment.

“What I have done is elevate every single member of Paragon. I allowed Eli Goode the opportunity to find something deep down in the darkest nether regions of his soul. He tapped into that potential that I have spoken oh so much about. He rose from the pits of hell. Too bad his arms weren’t long enough to box with God. Still, Eli showed that he can be a better wrestler than he already is. Should he ever decide to seek my guidance, I would be glad to show him how to rise to that level, and perhaps more importantly, remain at that level.”

“In our first meeting, Kyra, like Eli had done, also found something deep inside herself. She earned something that you, Jack, will never earn; my respect. She beat me to hell and back and if I am going to be honest, I liked it. That was when I gave Kyra something that you never would give her; that being confidence. While you were off supposedly preparing for your match with Amber, I was here, reminding her that she mattered. It was abundantly clear that she didn’t matter to you and that she didn’t matter to Amber. Hell, at the time, she didn’t matter to me. I gave her the belief in herself that has allowed her to go from a firecracker to an atomic bomb. Fun fact: one that Mac should be aware of as well. Since I defeated Kyra all those months ago, she has yet to lose a match. That is the effect that having a person like myself building her up, as opposed to having a person like you constantly suffocating her, can have.”

“Lastly, we have Amber herself. If there is one thing I am sure you have been watching, it’s been your precious stepdaughter. The reason you went into hiding, like Beatrix Kiddo seeking out Pai Mei for training in Kill Bill, is because you knew you could not beat Amber. When she and I first faced off, I took a woman, a very talented woman, and I motivated her. I added a turbocharger to her proverbial engine. Despite taking two months off to rest your aching bones, Amber took you to your limit and she went from being the future to becoming the present. Then again, if recent history proves anything, it’s that the pendulum swings both ways.”

Davison points at the camera.

“Now that we’ve established the kind of person YOU are, Jack, I once again want to say thank you. When I left off of the Wargames team, it was a slap in the face. I was given a match against Amber, and when I lost, I knew that I was better than Amber. I made it my mission to defeat every member of Paragon. When you retired, you took that away from me. Now, your selfish pride has given that back to me.

“That is what is motivating you. Isn’t it, Jack?”

Davison takes his title belt and lays it at his feet.

“Your pride, however, shows exactly how stupid you are. You want a match where the only way to win is by having someone throw in the towel. I don’t even own a towel. I draw so much heat that I dry off within seconds. Regardless, the point is that you have set a trap that you are going to snare yourself in. After all, I remember Chaos 88. I remember how you came out and cried about how your body could not handle Ultraviolent matches anymore. Allow a query, if you will. What do you think is going to happen during our match? I possess the physical and intellectual prowess needed to cause you permanent harm, yet lack the remorse not to do exactly that.”

“Your pride will be your downfall. You used your rematch clause to get this match. People claimed that it was an attempted gold grab. What it really was was a successful attention grab. You had better recognize that I have heard all of your threats. I have heard of all the whispers in the locker room. I know that now that you aren’t going to challenge for my title, suddenly everyone in the back wants you to tear me down. I know this. I relish being in this position. I have embraced this position. I thrive in this position. The only difference between then is now is I have been validated.”

“What I need to do is not only defeat you but erase you. For myself, for Kyra, even for the people that do not believe in me like Eli Goode and Amber Ryan. I am willing to sacrifice myself for the greater good, as opposed to sacrificing those around me. I am going to hell because I sold my soul to get the opportunities afforded to me. However, I realize one thing. It’s better to have a condemned soul than no soul at all.”

Davison steps forward, asserting his presence.

“Now, here we are at Chaos 100, and it’s the biggest match of your life. Why? Because everything you stand for is on the line. Oh, yeah, the Carnage World Championship, you could have tried to get it back. All you had to do is go through me. But like I said, it’s not about that now. It’s about something more. The things you’ve done, I haven’t forgotten. Well, now it’s my turn! I’m going to make you beg, Jack. You are going to get down on your hands and knees. You are going to grovel and you are going to beg for Kyra’s forgiveness. This time, you’ll be the one who’s humiliated. This time, you’ll be the one who’s humbled. This time, you’ll understand what it’s like to be in someone else’s shadow. And how appropriate…that forgiveness you will grovel for, won’t even be in your own hands. When all is said and done, you will be the victim of your own pride…wallowing, in the muck…of avarice for not money, but attention. You have mine, complete and undivided. Since you are giving me what I want, I will give you what you deserve.”

Davison bows his head and folds his head in mock prayer.

“May Ken have mercy on your soul.”

Davison remains still as the camera fades to black.