The Serene Passing of The Century, by Mine Hand.

[mattknox]

From the thunder and the storm,

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view.

I almost feel like a broken record when I talk about how familiar something is to me.

Sure on some level it’s a cheap cop-out, easy way to establish seniority with my opponent. Make them feel small, make the viewer resign themselves to the most important fight - the one between the ears- is likely over before it’s begun…but sometimes it’s real. Realer than any of the other drama around here.

Serenity, you are so fucking special it makes my heart hurt. When the day comes that I can’t go on, I’ll take solace while suffering through some ungodly sort of PT just so i can get on my knees and play with my grandchildren knowing that for all the bad i’ve done in this industry? I had a hand in cultivating the next generation, and moreso the greatest of that generation once looked to me for guidance.

Which, really, is what you’re doing now isn’t it?

We’ll get back to that, let me make my first point first before I forget it. Between the head trauma and how quickly 50 is running at me? The memory isn’t quite what it used to be. Being here before, seeing you before. Let me ask you something, that TV title? Feels special, doesn’t it? There’s an aura about it, the history and the nostalgia of it all.

My first professional title was a Television title in the FWF…Fantastical Wrestling Federation. British company, where I cut my teeth. Had my first rivalry, met my first wife all that shit. But nothing…Nothing that I experienced there compared to the high of winning that Television championship. It was…well, you know what it was.

Validation. Tangible proof That all that hard work, everything I’d clawed myself toward? It was valid, it was real. I was valid and real.

That title meant so much that I came to IWF just to relive that rush, feel like a young man again with the Television title around my waist. I lived that dream out, but fucked up and caught feelings for the place. The same I have for you, for my children, for anyone i’ve ever taken under my wing. I want to protect it, I want to watch it flourish.

Lead it to where it needs to be, so that it can be its best self.

Please remember that when this is all said and done, Serenity. And know I speak from experience and more? I’m sparing you the full harshness of the lesson I endured.

See, the fate of that title and where we are now? It’s where our stories take on an almost identical feel.

You know Brad Jackson, don’t you?

---

“And that is a 450 splash, see how they go all spinny spinny?” he pointed at the screen of the tablet with his free hand, the other resting on the barely one year old’s tummy helping to keep her upright in his lap “Pop pop can’t do ‘em anymore, but I bet you’ll be able to. Your mama was a prodigy, after all.”

It was a decidedly quiet night in Monterey, in the big old house that once resembled a tomb only he dwelled in, but tonight had decided to look like the family home it hadn’t truly been in nigh-on a decade. In the den, next to a cozy fire built to combat the chilly ocean winds calypso sent to them, was Matthew Knox, legs stretched out save for one knee that was propping a tablet up playing a compilation of random wrestling clips for the young Camryn Hope Roth, his first born grandchild.

The child’s mother, Hope Knox rounded a corner to enter the room. Her icey blue eyes stared up and down the walls of her childhood home, one hand reaching out and brushling along the walls as she walks along.

“It seems smaller than I remember,” she commented, her eyes moving to her adoptive father and firstborn child, an incredulou smile breaking her sharp features up with its softness.

“Wish the same was true for you,” Matthew replied, looking up from the tablet and the infant that had a decidedly keener interest in her teething ring than her Grandfather’s sage career advice “Might mean I was still young, and not dreading what getting up from this floor will feel like.”

She rolled her eyes before joining him on the rug, sidling up and reaching for the infant but finding her father’s hand unmoving and his stare stern.

“Get your own.” he declared flatly, earning a shove on his shoulder before he relented, letting his granddaughter return to his chosen daughter. Hope cooed along with the happy infant as Matthew took the moment to adjust his leg, stretching it back out and wincing at the chorus of pops he felt within. He lifted the tablet, swiping it to the side and staring at the screen intently.

Hope looked away from the bouncing, smiling Camryn to see what had piqued her father’s interest into such an immediate silence. A small, sad smile cracking as she saw a looping clip of Serenity Holmes hitting a double foot stomp off the top rope. For a moment ,the image of the fall he’d just taken at a show for Thunder pro flashed before her eyes. She cleared her throat, settling Camryn into her lap before speaking.

“She’s going to be targeting your neck and shoulders…Everyone saw what Peter Vaughn did, then what El D did. Honestly, I’m not sure who cleared you bu–”

“You worry too much.”

“You don’t worry enough.” she replied in a dry tone, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth as she looked up to meet his gaze, steely and accompanied with a furrowed brow, “You’re tough, but you’re getting older. Eventually something that didn’t give before is going to give.”

“And when it does, I will read those tea leaves like they’re scripture but until then….” he softened his gaze, almost pleading “Can we just enjoy this?” he motioned between them and Camryn. Hope let out a sigh, going to reply before a loud ‘buzz’ cut through the air. She dug her phone from her hip pocket, letting out a sigh and gently handing Camryn back to Matthew who was all too eager to take her.

“It’s Cameron. He probably landed, right back okay?”

“Yep.. .” he drifted off, before calling out to her retreating form “Hey, Hope?” she stopped, turning around, face expectant.

“Tell him hi, yeah?”

A small smile cracked her features, she nodded and answered the phone but he didn’t pay attention to their conversation, returning it instead to the pale blue eyes of his granddaughter who stared after her mother.

“Oh, she’ll be right back…fussy thing. You need to learn some patience..” he lifted her to eye level then, although it didn othing to break her gaze “You’ll end up like pop pop if you don’t..and i’m not tryin’ to be old enough to have to worry about you doin’ what I do..”

He leaned in, kissing one puffy cheek and still getting no acknowledgement. He sighed, shaking his head.

“No sold…more bad habits. I’m gonna need to talk at your daddy about this.”

Life was a mystery to him still. Very few things were certain, but of those certainties right up there with his ability to commit violence? Was the knowledge that he would do anything to guide this child down the right path. Any child really, that would come to him looking for guidance or advice.

Bastard that he was, if he could keep this new generation far from the path he’d taken, and others before him? He’d do it in a heartbeat. Twice as fast to keep them from even getting in the sea of Wrestling, so infested with sharks.

But those who insisted on diving in? He’d do all he could to make them the best they could be.

Even if he had to be at his worst.

---

I’m sure you do. You work for him, in Uprising. Back when iPods were a regular accessory, I had a match with Brad Jackson. There I was, hottest young prospect in the UK defending my TV title against an interloper that put the entire locker-room on notice with their presence. A fuckin spectre that had decided to haunt our home until it got its fill of blood.

I stepped forth first, put up my belt, demanded it was to take place in a cage. I had a statement to make.

I didn’t get through my first sentence.

Brad Jackson beat me until my legs didn’t work. Took my title. Took my validation and walked out. To him, though? It was a strap he didn’t want. He vacated the thing after defending it a couple times, left after stomping out all the big game.

I never got my shot to make that right, but I spent every day after preparing for the day I could. I started winning bigger titles. Learning how to be a better tag team partner, cleaning up sloppy habits I paid no mind to before. That beating by Brad Jackson turned me into the man you see before you today.

But only because of the man i’ve always been.

See, most people would take that experience as a sign that their shine has worn off and it’s time to give reality a try. Step away from this insane sport of ours. People like me, people like Us, Serenity? We take it as a challenge. We dig deep, we grind it out, and we do to every one of them what was done to us.

At least, I hope that’s the kind of person you are.

Because you have come here for the same lesson that Brad Jackson taught me. You’ve tasted the sweet ambrosia of success. The accolades, the cheers, the fear you hear in the voice of whoever is cutting a promo against you that weak…do you hear it now?

It’s starting to get bitter though, isn’t it?

You’ve let the biggest sort of prize slip away after having to share it. That TV title…it’s begun to feel like a weight, no?

Success is a weight around your neck, preventing you from looking any higher. And so, you seek a cure. A new vein of strength for you to mine and draw from to continue your story.

So why not the mentor, and his title? Why not the ever-present Big Name that seems to have issues against  the Action alumni? Pair that with the affection and maybe, just maybe, you get one over on the old man. Especially with the schedule he keeps, and the way his body moves slower with every match.

Get his head while it still has some value, get another belt to add to the list, and instantly make am ark with a new company. It’s honestly the perfect plan and it does not surprise me that your brilliant mind came up with it, Serenity.

I do doubt how much you believe it will come true. I do doubt, myself, that it ever had a chance to begin with. Good as you are Serenity, as much as you know and as great as you will yet be? You’re still not better than me.

The 22nd Century is going to be glorious, of this I have no doubt.

But the 20th is still alive, consuming the 21st and has no issues teaching the 22nd that it is not it’s time yet. I’m not done.

And you’re not the one to stop me.

Or, more plainly and for the T shirt people…

You Can’t Stop Me, Serenity.

I am Raze. I am Ruin. I am the Raven.

The God Killer.

And at Odyssey? Once more, I will be what I have always been to you.

Your Teacher.

….Take a lap.