Sins of the Father V: Family Ties

[Gerard Angelo]

Sorry for my absence last week, PCW Faithful. Your hero had to attend to some business. And by business I mean finishing up filming of my show “Miami PD”, which you should be watching every Wednesday night at 9pm.

But thats neither here no there. What we need is to address is the fact that ya boy is PCW’s Breakout Star. And you know what I have to say about that?

About. Damn. Time.

It’s about time Gerard freakin’ Angelo got recognized in this company. It’s about damn time I’ve started getting rewarded for going out there week in and week out, busting my ass and leaving it all in the ring. The fans already knew it. But now its time for PCW’s brass to open their eyes all the way and see me for the mega star a truly am.

Now, Return to Glory didn’t quite go my way. I got beat Reverend Dickhead and his lackey Deacon Douchebag. Now I’m very certain I will see those two Bible thumpin’ cocksuckers again in the near future, the only reason I lost was because Justin Michaels is a fuckin’ idiot.

For somebody that’s been around wrestling a long time, you think he wouldn’t fall for the oldest trick in the book, right? Listen, Justin, IF I wanted to hit you, you’d know it. I wouldn’t pussy foot around and pretend to swing at Seromine to hit you. Not my style, homie. So if you didn’t fucking shove me like a little bitch, we easily could’ve taken down those two has-beens. Honestly, I think you’re jealous of ol’ Gerry. It was like you were looking for any little excuse to turn on me at Return to Glory. I mean, I get why you could be jealous. You became the longest reigning North American Champion in history over the weekend, yet that was eclipsed by me becoming the Breakout Star. That you have the title that Grimm wants, yet he still couldn’t help but talk about me when addressing you. Longest reigning yet most irrelevant North American Champion in history. You might as well drop the old “Stormm” gimmick and start referring to yourself as “Jealous” Justin Michaels.

Which brings us to Trauma. Another tag team match. This time “Jealous” and I are in different corners. And this time i have a SIGNIFICANT upgrade for a partner. You don’t get anymore big time then this in PCW in my humble opinion. The man, if you can even call him that, is a living legend. Arguably the greatest wrestler in Pure Class Wrestling history.

The Hangtown Horror, himself.

Phinehas Dillinger.

GRIMM.

Grimm alone is something that a tag team needs to worry about. But Grimm and The Hollywood Hero? Forget about it. It’s a wrap. I just can’t wait to watch Grimm pound Michael’s face into a bloody pulp. I just hope he leaves some for me. But we do have Tyrone Smith to worry about. I don’t really know anything about Tyrone, except that he only shows up every now and then. I’m sorry you gotta team with ‘Jealous” Justin, Mister Crazy Boy, but if you get in my way at Trauma I will slap seven shades of shit outta you. You’ve been warned.

But, Grimm. WHEN you finally take the strap from Justina, maybe you and I can have ourselves a match?

Just food for thought.

====================

The hot Florida sun blazing down on the massive new house that was just purchased by Gerard Angelo. Think of Tony Montana’s but not as gaudy. In the back yard by the massive olympic sized pool, The Hollywood hero is laid out on a lounge chair, dressed in simple red trunks and a pair of expensive hades, letting the sun beat down on his muscle stretched skin. The house was a recent purchase. He figured he should be on the east coast, closer to PCW and his television show. It beat having to fly thousands of miles every week. Work smarter, not harder, right?

In all honesty, it had not been a very good week for Gerard Angelo. His show, Miami PD, had taken a big hit in ratings. Like a starting to become a problem hit. And not to mention Justin Michaels screwed them both out of a big win at the Pay Per View because he couldn’t take an accidental punch to the jaw. Gerry rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses just thinking of it. Of course it was Gerry taking the pin, while Stormm made it out scot free. Something Gerard was hoping to return the favor for this week.

Gerry’s musing are interrupted by the sound of the sliding door to his new home being flung open.

“Wow! This place is freakin’ huge!” said Sean, Gerry’s younger brother. He looked around at the massive backyard and the stone patio that encased the pool area and let out a whistle, no doubt thinking of all the parties he could throw here while his brother was on the road. Gerard rolled his yes behind the unnecessarily expensive sunglasses on his face as his brother went on and on about the house. He loved Sean but his brother only really cared about partying and chasing girls. Thought Gerry couldn’t really be upset with him about that since it basically ran in the family like it was diabetes. Yet Gerard was the one supporting his younger brother financially, putting a roof over his head, while his brother did nothing except party. Sean hasn’t had a job since he worked at In n Out for a day until he quit because he said it would cut heavily into to his free time. He tried his hand at wrestling for a few years but he always had a problem with the work ethic it takes to even be decent at the business. Yet Gerard felt compelled to take care of him since their father never paid them any mind during their childhood and their mother died before Sean entered high school. Not to mention everyone was always more focused on Gerard then Sean while they were growing up. So The Hollywood Hero felt a deep rooted need to give back to his baby brother. Even though he felt as if Sean was starting to take it for granted.

“Gerry?”, Gerard is ripped from his thoughts by Sean standing over him, raising and eyebrow.

“Did you say something?” asked Gerard, trying not to seem guilty like he was thinking awful things about the only family he associates with. Sean doesn’t seem to notice and scoffs at his brother.

“Yeah I’ve been talking to you for like the past five minutes! Did you start smoking pot again?”

“You’re an idiot. What did you say?” Gerard shifts himself so his sitting on the side of the lounge chair, looking up at Sean.

“I asked what happened last week between you and Stormm. I was watching the show. You guys were working pretty well together until Seromine ducked your punch.”

“Yeah, and you’d think Justin would know well enough that it was an accident since he’s suppose to be the guy who lives and breathes ‘rasslin’.” Gerry says with another eye roll. “I’m convinced it’s because he’s jealous of me.”

“Yeah you’ve been saying that all week.” Sean says this with the tone like he’s heard this more times then he can count. Gerard just keeps going on.

“Not even just jealous about me being more important them him, even though he holds the second most important championship in Pure Class. Which he’s basically brought the prestige down to zero now, by the way. I forgot that was even a strap until I saw him walk out with it at the Pay Per View. But I’m fairly certain Michaels is jealous of me because I’ve done something he could never do. I’ve transcended the business like only a handful of grapplers before me have. The fact that I’ve made something out of myself separate from wrestling. That I’m doing this because I want to, I don’t have to like Justina. That when I finally hang up the boots for good, I’m not going to have to go to Comic Con and bully marks into buying my over priced autograph to put a hot meal in my belly. His jealousy stems from the fact that I’m going to be remembered for decades while he’ll be lucky to be the answer to someones trivia question on Twitter. The very most Michaels has to look forward to is maybe that idiot Meltzer will name one of those shitty podcast awards of his after him.”

Sean makes an eyes wide facial expression with a smirk. “Tell them how you really feel, bro.”

“I’m not here to make friends, Sean.” Gerard waves his hand as if dismissing that notion. “I have plenty of friends. I’m here to be the absolute best to ever walk the halls of the PCW Arena. I’m here to be selfish and win every damn title I can grab with my greedy hands. And it doesn’t matter if its ‘Jealous’ Justin or ‘Looney Man’ Smith, because they are both in my way this time.”

“Sean, shouldn’t you be a little more worried about, Smith? Isn’t he like a Hall of Famer or some shit?” Sean asked, trying to change the subject since he knows his brother can get long winded when his pissed off. Gerry just shrugs.

“The man hasn’t been relevant the entire time I’ve been employed here. He comes and goes as he pleases. I’m going to send him on his way again with a swift kick in the ass. I might still be kinda new here, but I’m a bad, baaad, man. I’ve done stuff in wrestling that would make the average man sick to his stomach. This pretty face makes people think I’m soft as baby shit, but that’s why you should never judge a book by its cover. If Tyrone thinks he’s gonna get in my way, then Grimm ain’t gonna be the only one making someone go snap, crackle, pop.”

By this time Gerard is standing up, yelling this almost to an audience that consists of only Sean Angelo and the few seagulls passing over head. Gerard seemed to realize this and stopped, starting to make his way into the house.

“I have work to do. Don’t bother me.” The Hollywood Hero says as he slams the sliding door behind him, leaving a confused and worried younger sibling looking out at the setting sun.

=================

Bill McGrogan was a lot of things. A loving husband and father. A role model. A veteran of the United States Armed Forces. None of those added up to being a weak man. He had a lot of people depending on him. So when he got shot a few weeks ago, in his head he told himself that he would fight the darkness creeping on him with every fiber of his being. It was rough the first few minutes after the shooting since the bullets had hit major organs and he lost a lot of blood when the lady walking home had stumbled across him. When he had gotten to the hospital despite fading in and out of consciousness, he had heard doctors and nurses talking about how it would be a miracle if he survived the night despite their best efforts. It had been a few weeks now. It was a testament to how strong of a man Bill was.

His family, especially his wife Cindy, came to visit him everyday. It was rare if Cindy went home, as she didn’t want to leave he husband of forty-three years side, even though Bill was well on his way to a full recovery. This night though, after about and hour of struggle, Bill sent Cindy home to take a shower and get some rest. His daughter was coming by in the morning so Cindy could sleep in. Bill himself, though he would never say this aloud, wanted some time to himself to think. It had been a while since he had any alone time, between his family and hospital staff constantly attending to him.

The police had ruled his shooting as a mugging gone wrong. It had all the tell tale signs of one. But in the back of Bills mind, he thought it was intentional. He had been taught to trust his gut in the Marines, and his gut was telling him someone wanted him out of the picture. Bill just didn’t know who.

He laid there, staring up at the ceiling, the only sound is the low lull of the television he had left on and the beeping of the heart monitor hooked up the him. As Bill pondered who would want him dead, the handle to his door turned slowly. His trained ear heard the sound and his eyes darted over, but he didn’t think much of it. It was late and it was probably a nurse coming to check on him, think he might be asleep. The door swung open and it was a large man, dressed in scrubs and a surgical mask along with gloves, that Bill had never seen before. The thought that it could be a new male nurse quickly left his mind as he almost immediately felt bad vibes from this man. The nurse shut the door behind him and Bill sat up.

“Who are you?” He asked calmly, even though the heart knottier betrayed him as it began beeping quicker. The large man in scrubs cock his head, as if looking the former Marine Sargent over.

“I am new nurse.” The man said with a heavy accent. “I come bring you pillow, yes?”

“Oh, is that all?” Bill asked, his hand slowly moving across the bed, trying to grab the remote to hit the call button. This wasn’t lost on the man as he quickly moved over to the bed with surprising speed and grabbed the older man’s wrist, to stop him. He stared down at Bill with the cold eyes of a killer and in that moment the man knew his shooting was no accident. The massive man was caught off guard when a balled fist connected to the side of his temple with speed no expected of a man of Bills age and current condition. It causes the man masquerading as a nurse to let go on his wrist, but only so the large, rough, glove covered hand can join its twin around Bill throat, trying to choke the life from his body. The heart monitor beeps wildly McGrogan hands grip the wrists of the mountain of a man, trying to break the death grip he has on his throat. The knowledge that this is futile quickly is learned by Bill as his eyes frantically look around for something to help him. He lets go of one of the wrists to reach out, trying to grab the remote again, but it’s just out of the reach of his finger tips. The assassin sees this and lets go with one hand to slap the remote off the bed. Bill uses this distraction to reach out with his other hand, his finger tips closing around the neck of a vase filled with flowers. He brings it around and slams it against the side of the man’s face, shattering the glass, sending it and flowers every where as water soaks the bed and Bill himself.

The murderous man falls back, yelling and cursing in another language as he clutches the side of his face. Bill takes some much needed deep breaths before he turns over, trying to reach off the bed to grab the remote. He is stopped when he feels fingers grip his salt and pepper hair, yanking him back and almost off the bed. He gets turned around and staring at the face of the man, his masked removed now, blood dripping down his face into his beard, one eye clenched shut as his hands grip Bill’s throat again to throttle him.

“Время умереть, старик.” The assassin says down at Bill, the scent of stale cigarettes almost making him glad he can’t breathe. Bill at this point starts to thrash and kick his legs, doing anything to get the man off of him and save his life. He starts scratching and clawing at the arms of the man, digging in deep enough to draw blood. The man stares down at Bill with an evil, murderous smile as the heart monitor beeps wildly. Bill starts to fade and his thoughts drift to Cindy and his kids, wishing he got to spend more time with them. Wishing he got to see his grand children grow up. Wish he was in any other place then this.

Suddenly his movements stop, and his legs go limp as the hands grip tighter around his throat with boa constrictor force.

The heart monitor stops it’s wild beeping as it becomes and singular, constant sound.

The Russian assassin stands up, admiring his handy work. That’s when the door to the room opens and enters a short, slightly overweight, nurse. She has a smile on her face as she nearly sings when she talks.

“Okay, time to wake up Mister McGro…” She stops in her tracks and stares at the assassin, before looking at Bill’s lifeless body sprawled out on the bed half hanging off. She screams loudly and the Russian runs towards the door, shoving the nurse to the floor forcefully as he sprints down the hall before doctors and security swarm down on the room.