Fix Me.

[Mason St. Croix]

Are you ready Bates? Cause I am. The first go round you were just an opponent, another day at the office and a job I had to do so that I could move on to the next assignment. This time though you’ve spent the last month trying to make me into your enemy and you’ve succeeded.

Well done.

I love being IWF Heavyweight Champion, I’m proud of it and I take the belt with me everywhere I go. I’ll admit I may not have been the best champion I could have been but I feel like I brought a bit of dignity back to it that had been lost on the previous champion. By you making me your enemy though you’ve taken my focus off of remaining the champion and put it on hurting you. I do plan to hurt you, badly, but I also plan to walk out of that cage on Sunday still champion.

You shouldn't plan on walking… at all.

Kristoff you might have a few people convinced with your constant instance that you could have beat me the first time but you chose to get yourself disqualified because I clearly wasn’t recovered from my injury and prepared for you. You haven’t convinced me of shit besides the fact that you can run like a bitch and hit people with briefcases cause that’s a lot easier way out than being dropped on the back of your head with the Ranger’s Way.

Since you’ve taken that out of the equation though by making this match Submission only let’s discuss all the others ways I can beat you.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit, your Triangle Choke has probably won more matches than just about any other submission hold in IWF. You’ve truly mastered it and it’s not a pleasant hold to be locked in, but I guess no one seems to ever notice just because the Ranger’s Way is so effective and I haven’t had a reason or opportunity to use it that I have a pretty bad ass choke hold in my repertoire known as The Reckoning too. I didn’t learn it any wrestling school either, I learned it Ranger Training Brigade. Sunday night at Dangerzone I get to try it out in the ring for the first time.

There’s also the possibility that I will kick, punch, stomp, slap, slam, and toss you all over the ring so much that every inch of your body is weakened to the point that I make you tap out to something as simple as a wristlock. I know that’s unlikely but I do plan to punish you inside the cage in ways that’ll make all those bloody wars you were so proud of having in nCw look like a fucking pillow fight. You also won’t be able to run away which is something you’ve gotten really good at, coward.

Coward or not, I’m fully aware of how dangerous you are Bates. You could very well have beaten me a month ago, but now you won’t. If you haven’t noticed you’ve lit a fire in me the likes of which has yet to be seen inside an IWF ring. I needed someone like you bring that out in me, so thanks for that. It’s like you made out invitations to your own funeral.

Your mind games didn’t work, they just pissed me off. You got the better of me thanks to that briefcase on a couple of occasions but when we were in the ring at Battleground this past week and you tried it you failed, just like you’re going to at the PPV. You’re a very intelligent guy, you like to use that brain of yours to one up your opponent but that brain won’t do you a damn bit of good when it’s running out your ear.

This ends on Sunday, Kristoff. I’m going home with my belt and you’re going back to the office to tell your boss that you’re a fucking failure as a wrestler and at life.



George St. Croix sat on the couch in the living room of his historic Savannah home. The football game he was watching on the extremely large television obviously wasn’t going the way the highly decorated veteran Army Ranger wanted.

“Come on ‘Dawgs!” George shouted. “Damn refs always screwin’ us over.”

George tossed the remote down on the coffee table and slumped back on the couch, dejected and frustrated at his teams misfortune. He watched in disgust for a few more moments, occasionally shaking his head before finally reaching down and hitting the power button on the remote. Just as the TV went a dark a knock the door was heard. George stood up and walked over to the door and opened it, through the glass storm door he looked down to see a young African-American man sitting in a wheel chair smiling up at him.

“Can I help you?” George asked as he opened the storm door.

“I sure hope so, General St. Croix. My name’s Walt Jenkins and I served in Afghanistan under your son Mason. I heard he was staying here, is he home?”

“He’s asleep.” George stated, looking down at his watch. “I need to go wake his ornery ass up though.”

“No… you don’t have to do that, sir. I can come back another time if he’s sleeping.”

“It’ll be alright, he’s been asleep for close to 14 hours. He had a little “incident” yesterday and had to get some stitches in his hands and they gave him some mild pain killers that knocked him out pretty good.” George trailed off. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this, I’ll just get him for you.”

Walt smiled and nodded his head, “Thank you, sir.”

George turned and walked down the hallway towards the bedroom where Mason was sleeping and slung the door open startling Mason awake.

“Wake up boy, “ George demanded. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Mason rolled over and wiped the sleep from his eyes.

“Erica?” He asked.

“Hell no! You didn’t hear any gun shots did ya?” George said, only half joking.” It’s some kid, said he served with you in the desert. ”

George went back in the living room and sat down. Mason stood up and threw on a plain white t-shirt to go along with the black nylon shorts he was already wearing. He made his way to the front door and out onto the porch where Walt sat in his wheel chair. Mason tried to hold back the emotion of seeing the young soldier sitting there missing one of his legs but couldn’t as a single tear escaped and rolled down his cheek before he quickly wiped it away.

“I’m so sorry Walt.”

“Don’t be.” Walt responded. “It happened just about a year ago and I’ve come to terms with it; I was doing my job and serving my country. I knew going in that something like this or even worse was possible.”

“That’s a hell of an attitude to have; you always were a bright guy.” Mason extended a hand to Walt who gladly returned the handshake.”It sure is good to see you, what brings you to Savannah?”

Mason sat down on the old white wooden porch swing and Walt rolled his chair around to face his former commanding officer. The two had become great friends after Walt joined Mason’s unit in Afghanistan during his last two years as a Ranger.

“A girl believe it or not.” Walt said with a chuckle. “She was my nurse when I got back to the states, and I fell for her hard. She took a job at one of the hospitals here so I moved out here with her. We got a baby on the way too.”

“Man that’s great. There’s nothing in the world like being a Dad.” Mason stated proudly. Walt looked him up and down and from the 5’oclock shadow and then some that had formed on his normally well groomed face to the dark circles under his eyes it was plain to see that Mason was under a great deal of stress.

“How bout you? You ain’t looking too hot Mason. That shit you were doing last time I saw you messing with your head?”

“Huh?” Mason questioned, looking confused. “The last time I saw you was the morning of my discharge hearing.”

“Na man, I saw you about a month before my accident. It was around January of last year.” Walt said with certainty. “My unit brought a truck load of prisoners to the compound where you were working for the Feds. Don’t you remember? You didn’t really say anything, basically just a smile and a nod. It was like you weren’t allowed to talk.”

Mason stands up and walks to the edge of the porch and looks out into the distance trying to but he didn’t remember. He turns back to Walt.

“I can’t remember anything. I’ve lost the last two years of my life, everyone thought I was dead. I’m having these visions and nightmares; it’s literally driving me insane. Sometimes I black out completely. ” Mason takes a long pause before asking, “What was I doing there?”

Walt looked up at Mason and could see the desperation for knowledge on his face.

“Are you sure you want know? Some things we forget are better left forgotten.”

“I’ve got to know so that I can try to piece my life back together. Please, Walt...” Mason begged.

“You were torturing people Mason.”

Mason turns around again and looks up at the sky as a lump forms in his throat. He now knew where he’d been for those two years and what he was doing there. The next question was why?

“It’s going to be alright though.” Walt said. “We both came back broken Mason. Mine’s on the outside and with a little metal and plastic they say I can be fixed. You’re broken inside and with the right people around you, some time, and some answers; you can be fixed too.”

“I hope so…”

Fade to black.