007 (Red Letter Day) [iiW]

but your emotions will never lie to you.

— Roger Ebert

Sunday, June 8, 2014

LARRY GOWAN STOOD IN THE SHADOWS of the rooftop patio's lattice overhang, watching the pint-sized blonde talking to herself, clearly psyching herself up for her upcoming SVW match. For a moment, he was struck by how much she resembled Kitty, even with the golden hair. That realization caught him in a bad way, bringing tears to his eyes— so much loss over the last year and a half. Letting out a soft sigh, he pulled the pair of sunglasses from his eyes and clipped them to the neck of his t-shirt. There was no sense in hiding his emotions from her— he'd known her since 2003, after all. These days, in this business, eleven years were a lifetime.

Nessa Wall leapt off the chaise lounge and promptly collided with him, bringing a soft grunt from between his lips. He absorbed the impact and caught hold of her before she could stumble. "Sorry," he murmured.

Looking up, Nessa met the bloodshot eyes of Larry Gowan— quite literally the LAST person she expected to see. Taking a step back, she glared at him, "have you been standing there the whole time?"

"I… uh…" Gowan looked sheepish, "long enough to hear you arguing with yourself— if that's what you're asking."

Nessa huffed, turning back towards the lounger. On the screen of her laptop, the cursor blinked at the end of a few paragraphs of a blog she would probably never post. The laptop's screen went black as the green symbols of the Matrix code began to trickle down from the top. Gowan's eyes remained on the screen, the black and green blurring into an amorphous blob. "Your latest blog?" He forced the words out, realizing he didn't even know who she was supposed to be facing— every little detail had become so hard to hang onto without Chauncy's constant reminders. He felt like sanity was slipping away, one day at a time.

"Trainwreck that it is, yeah." Her voice held heavy scorn.

"Why didn't you post it?"

"How do you know I didn't?"

He reached into his pocket, pulling out his battered iPhone, "would've received notification since I'm a subscriber and all."

"Oh." She stared at him. "I didn't post it because it's stupid, Larry. It says nothing about Chris Kane or SVW or Leona…"

"Ah." He had no idea who Leona or Chris Kane was, assuming they were her opponents. "Well, I'm sure it was all tied together. There's this rich tapestry of experience and..." his voice caught. He bit his lip, shaking his head.

"Larry?" Nessa's hand was on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Honey, what is it?"

Gowan shrugged, cocking his head as he looked at her, trying to bite back his emotions before he had a complete and utter meltdown— he wasn't so far gone that he couldn't see her distress, either, "you look terrible," he said, "how're you holding up?"

"Not so good," she muttered. "I have to ask you this, not because I'm trying to... get a handle on this whole title challenger business, or because I want to use it to cut a promo..." her eyes slid in the direction of the deserted pool, almost as if she was paranoid that they were being watched.

"Then ask."

"How do you make it over that hump? How do you win all the time?"

Gowan stared at her for a few seconds, his shock giving way to sadness in an instant. Breaking eye contact, he cleared his throat and shook his head. "I get lucky, that's all."

"Bull........" she couldn't bring herself to say it when he had that hangdog look on his face, "why are you here?"

"Because," Gowan replied, "normally I would have gone to Kitty for this but…"

"Oh."

"Yeah." He sighed, shaking his head. "Not that I feel like you're her substitute. It's just…"

"I know, Larry. She left a hole in both of our lives." She paused, waiting for him to tell her what was wrong.

"Chauncy left me."

"He what?" She stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious? You two… you were the poster for…"

"True love— yeah. I got that from Nova too. He was supposed to be in Albuquerque last night. He didn't show. He won't return my calls and I doubt he'll be here tonight. I think it's really over."

"Don't say that," she cautioned.

"It's true, Ness. He deserves better. They all do. I'm going to tell Nick tonight to shred our contract. We're not coming back to SVW. Tomorrow I'll call Willow and tell her to forget it—"

"Don't do that, Larry."

He stared at her for a few seconds and then walked away. If Larry Gowan couldn't make a marriage work, what hope did anyone else have?

She caught up with him at the elevator, grabbing his shoulder and shoving him against the wall. "You can't walk away from this business—"

"Why not?" He pulled his hand from his pocket, thrusting a folded piece of paper at her, "what the fuck else do I have, Nessa? After a few more matches, it's m-moot anyways. I got the reverse Midas touch— everything I get involved with always turns to shit."

The expletives coming from his mouth made her flinch but she dutifully unfolded the letter and scanned it. The paper was rumpled and mangled, the ink faded along the creases although it was still legible enough:

Lawrence,

This has proved to be far more difficult than I'd expected and not just because letter-writing has, by and large, always been more your niche than mine. I find this medium far too impersonal, but I think it's suited for the message this time. I don't want to see your face when I tell you this.

After thirteen revisions, I've got a hand cramp and you're still tossing and turning on this flea-infested bed in this infernal room, utterly oblivious. The sight fills me with a level of revulsion that you likely deserve— regardless, I feel terrible about it. You can't possibly believe how hard this decision has been for me to make but I cannot look at you without seeing the past being paid forward into a future that has no place in it for me. I've tried to give you support over the years. I've picked you up every single time you've fallen and I was cheering you on through the entirety of your three years of sobriety. This certainly isn't about your constant battle with alcoholism nor is it a critique for your weakness. I understand and appreciate that this has never been easy for you.

You lied to me, Lawrence. You broke my trust and that is the ONE thing I can never forgive.

I will continue to make the remainder of the scheduled appearances for the team. Once the contract has been completed, that will end as well.

Goodbye.
Chauncy

Letting out a soft sigh, Nessa lifted her head. "Oh, sweetie... I'm so sorry."

Gowan's chin quivered as he averted his eyes. To his credit, he didn't burst into tears but by the looks of it, he was close. "I don't know what to do," he mumbled, reaching out with a shaking hand to grab the letter back. With his head lowered, he slowly folded it back up before sliding it into his back pocket.

"I know this is probably a stupid question," she said softly, "but have you tried to talk to him? I mean, a letter is just so..."

"It's what I deserved," he pulled away from her, "I got iiW to buy out the remainder of the PCW contract for the KoA so we have bookings through to the end of the year. Beyond that?" He shrugged, letting his head hang with a sigh. "I'm gonna go find Nick—"

"Larry," she grabbed his arm, stopping him from pressing the button to call the elevator, "you don't—"

Saturday, July 23, 2011

"— have to do this." Chauncy said softly, trying for the millionth time to express his concern in the face of the looming danger. "You could just let him pin you and walk away. Nobody will think less of you for that."

"I know," Gowan returned to silence, calmly lacing his boots. Slowly, he tightened them—taking time to make sure they were perfectly taut. "You've said it at least a hundred times, and it doesn't get any less annoying in repetition."

They'd been here for an hour, hoping to get in a little sparring. In that time, LG had done nothing, obsessed with lacing up his boots. The problem was that no matter how many times he tied his laces, he couldn't seem to get them how he liked them. Too loose. Too tight. Methodically, he'd undone the laces and started over from the very bottom, cursing himself with each loop. It only took one look to see that he was already a nervous wreck, with more than forty-eight hours to go before he'd be in the ring with Gideon Navarro, the monster of a man who'd injured Darren Hughes on a whim, just because he could.

"Lawrence, please. This..."

"Stop." He lifted his head, staring at Chauncy for a few heartbeats before letting out a sigh. "It has to happen and we both know it." He returned to the laces, starting over again because the left one was twisted slightly. The simple act gave him time to calm his mind. Visualization of all the moves he knew, running the gamut in his mind. Everything he knew flashed through his mind— counters and reversals. Thrust and parry. Each one echoed in his arms as they tensed, and finally to his fingers as they pulled at the laces. Focus and control. Right now it was the only thing he had going for him besides Chauncy's stalwart and somewhat annoying support.

Chauncy scowled, "he's trying to get beneath your skin, and you've let him!"

"Have I?"

"He called you 'young man'—"

"I've been called far worse by far better." LG replied without looking up. "Water off a duck, Skippy."

"He's all but dismissed you and you're the champion!" Chauncy sputtered in outrage.

"Right, right," he waved his hand dismissively, "those inevitable mind games that guys like him are all for. Frankly, being called young isn't much of a start. Neither is being called a roadblock. Ironic, I suppose, that he seems to think I'm in the way of his vendetta against the company as a whole. I never really understood that logic— Rosewater and Navarro come and try to tear the place apart— leaves nothing but wreckage and where are they going to work now? Seems a bit counterproductive, no?"

"Roundabout logic doesn't count for much against someone who can break you for fun."

"Fe-fi-fo-fum," LG muttered, "I smell the blood of an Englishman." He chuckled, "I suppose if I told you that I'm not up for this banter right now, it wouldn't make one lick of difference, would it?"

"Nope," Chauncy admitted with a wan smile, taking a generous swig of the cold coffee in his travel mug. "It wouldn't because I know you'll drive yourself mad in the silence."

Gowan said nothing for a long moment, instead turning his attention back to his laces. Chauncy set the mug aside, leaning forward, shaking his head. "You don't really need to be running around taking matches you don't have to, Larry." He tried to catch Gowan's eye but LG remained stalwartly focused on his laces, deliberately making an attempt to tune his partner out. That didn't stop Chauncy though, "I know what you're going to say. You're going to say this involves your precious moral high ground, and this means everything to you. You're not a knight, Lawrence. You stopped being one when SAWF closed its doors and we disbanded the tag team—"

"…for life," Gowan replied, "and I hardly think I have to explain my need to eradicate this…" he gesticulated wildly, as if he hoped to pluck the right word from the air, "evil from our midst. Darren Hughes was a decent guy, and a hell of a wrestler. He didn't deserve what they did to him. Valerie doesn't deserve to be on the receiving end of all this vitriol. I am the Undisputed Panda Champion, Chauncy. That means that I'm the franchise face of the company. I'm the one they look up to." Finished with his laces, Gowan stood from the bench and turned to face one of his oldest friends, speaking slowly, "it isn't about them, Chauncy."

"Then what?" he asked Gowan, "what is it about?"

"Purism," Gowan said, holding his head high, "it's about taking back what's ours. It's about letting those creeps know that they can't come in here and steamroll the rest of the company into submission. They can't talk to the owner like she's some..." he trailed off, not sure how to label that behavior, "they need to show respect. Rosewater believes himself to be the King of Wrestling—maybe even the KING of CPW. Accession to the throne, Chauncy. It's about honor."

"And you don't have that?"

"No." Gowan snapped.

"And this… walking into a death trap against Gideon Navarro, knowing that Rosewater is likely waiting in the wings… this is going to get it for you?"

"I don't know." He hesitated, which was long enough for Chauncy to let out a sigh.

"So then why do this? I don't get it. You won the belt legitimately from Belladonna. It wasn't a fluke, Lawrence. You could simply sit back and wait for the next challenger, instead of writing all these little missives, chuntering on about war and revenge. This isn't—"

"No." Gowan walked out to the center of the locker room and looked Chauncy dead in the eyes, "you want to know? I'll tell you. This is about Brad, and all the garbage I let him get away with over the years. This is about fighting back instead of being a doormat. This… is war, because I have had enough. Up to here—" he lifted his hand to his forehead, "Valerie Belmont can suspend Rosewater, but it won't solve the issue. She can beat him inside that ring, and it won't fix the problem. I know that. I've been here before and I know that he will do whatever in the hell he wants to. He'll come back twice as strong. He'll recruit more minions."

Chauncy sighed again.

"What does it matter? When all of us are gone, he'll still be around… but I want to know this, Chauncy… answer a question for me. Do you think when all is said and done, if any of us will be remembered as anything more than victims in this? I cannot and will not just allow myself to sit on the sidelines and do nothing."

Eyes narrowed, the Englishman glared at Gowan, lurching to his feet and stabbing a finger into his chest, "you selfish wanker! This isn't about them, is it? This is about you cementing your legacy, isn't it? This is about your last hurrah!"

LG shook his head, "no. It's not. And if that's what you think, maybe you should just…"

"Just what?"

Gowan fell silent, shaking his head. With a trembling hand, he grabbed his championship belt off the bench, holding it to allow the light to reflect off the gold plates.

Chauncy stared at it hard, stared at Gowan, and then turned away, shaking his head. "Make sure you're not doing it for the wrong reasons," he murmured, bowing his head, "because if you get all wrapped up in this ego game, I'm not sure I've got it in me to pull you out again when you tumble back into the abyss."

Gowan held the belt in his hands, staring at his own reflection in the hammered gold. Did this define him? Staring deeply into his own eyes he could see that familiar spark in his eyes, the willingness to fight for a cause he deeply believed in. Sighing, he looked up, and was surprised to feel wetness on his cheeks. "It's not about me." He said quietly, firmly, "it's about them," but it wasn't quite clear if he was trying to convince Chauncy or himself. "I can be their hero, Chauncy. I have to at least try."